Page 132 of Break Point
“I’m right here,” he says. “Not going anywhere. Ever.”
I throw myself into his arms and clutch him hard against me, uselessly hoping I could carry some of the weight pressing down on him. But I can’t. And even if such a thing were possible, his stubborn ass wouldn’t allow it.
“Is Madison …?” I ask, my voice muffled against his chest.
“She’s alive,” he says.
“Is she okay?”
“Madison was sitting right behind me,” he says, his voice tightening.
“When the car rolled, my seat collapsed backward into her. Pinned her leg between the frame and the backrest. She couldn’t move. She was screaming.”
He goes quiet, staring at the floor for a long moment, jaw clenched so hard it trembles.
“God, Bells, she was screaming, and I couldn’t do anything to help her. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t reach her.”
He buries his face into the crook of my neck, needing the closeness. Needing to ground himself.
“I still hear it sometimes. Even when I’m awake.”
I flinch. Hard. But I reel it in and try to be strong for him. Strong enough to hold us both without breaking down to pieces.
“And your shoulder?”
“I got slammed into the door so hard it tore my shoulder apart. The seat belt saved my life, but it nearly ripped my arm out of the socket. And when the windshield shattered, some of the flying glass cut straight through my face.”
I run my fingers gently down the scar slicing his eyebrow, shaking my head in denial, refusing to imagine the scene he’s describing.
“My dad … he didn’t make it,” Henry finally says, his voice breaking. “He took the worst of it on his side. He was probably gone before the car even stopped rolling.”
“I’m so sorry.” I cup his face and stare at his beautiful, broken features. I kiss his brow. His cheek. Let my hands slide around his neck and pull myself into another hug. “I wish I’d known sooner.”
We stay like that, suspended in time, nothing but the frantic beating of our hearts and our uneven breaths filling the space between us.
“We should’ve hailed a cab. Grabbed the L or a fucking bus,” he grits out, squeezing me tighter against him. “And we didn’t. I trusted him to do thisone thingfor me. Forus. And that trust got him killed. All because of me.”
“You are not guilty of anything, Henry.” I pull back just enough to see his face. His jaw is clenched so hard it trembles.
“Oh, I am.”
“No, you arenot.”
He looks away and bites his lower lip like he might chew it off.
“I’m responsible for ending Madison’s career, too.”
“Madison’s career?” I whisper.
He nods once.
“She was a ballet dancer. A damn good one. She had just been offered a spot at Juilliard before the accident.”
He drags a hand down his face, as if trying to erase the memory.
“Her leg was crushed with multiple fractures. She can walk now, but dance the way she used to? That’s gone. I took that from her.”
“No, you didn’t,” I say. “You didn’t cause this, Henry. Your dad was sick. He made the choice to get behind the wheel. This was an accident. A horrible, tragic accident, but it was never your fault.”
