Page 109 of Broken By Silence
Her thumb brushes my cheek. “You didn’t choose who lived, Archer. You just refused to let someone else die.”
I close my eyes, breathing her in. “If I could go back?—”
“You’d still jump,” she finishes for me. “You’d still save me.”
I open my eyes. “Yeah. I would.”
“Then stop punishing yourself for it.”
The wind picks up, tugging at her hair. She looks like she belongs here—wild, untamed, beautiful. The same girl I pulled from theocean three years ago, only now she’s stronger. I stare at her, words caught somewhere between my chest and my mouth. “You think Luke would understand? That I couldn’t?—”
She cuts me off with a gentle shake of her head. “I think he’d tell you to stop torturing yourself. That you did exactly what he would’ve done.”
The wind tugs at her hair, and I reach up to tuck a strand behind her ear. “I miss him,” I say quietly.
“I know,” she whispers. “But you honor him every time you live. Every time you let yourself be happy. Every time you love.”
I lean down and press a kiss to her forehead, holding it there for a moment longer. The ocean hums around us, a quiet heartbeat, and for the first time since that night, the air doesn’t feel heavy. “Happy birthday, Lottie,” I whisper.
Her smile is small, watery. “Not yet.”
“Then I’ll say it again next month,” I promise. I take her hand, fingers threading through hers. “You saved me, too, you know.”
“We saved each other… thank you for saving me that night, Archer,” she says softly.
The waves crash close to our feet, cool spray dusting our jeans. Luke’s name still echoes in my mind, but tonight it doesn’t sting. It settles. Like something I can finally set down. “Let’s go home, baby.”
The drive homeis quiet are first. The windows are cracked, the faint smell of the sea drifting in as we drive away. Lottie hums along softly to the radio, some slow, old song that used to make Luke roll his eyes while we were in training. Her fingers are linked with mine where it’s on the gearshift, and every now and then, she glances at me with that small, tired smile that lets me know she’s ready for bed.
The road winds along the cliffs, and I ease it around a corner. I should feel lighter after tonight. I should feel free, but the guilt still sits on my chest… but I feelokaysomehow.
But then, headlights flare in the rearview mirror. I squint, adjusting the mirror. “What the fuck are they doing?”
Lottie glances back. “They’re pretty close.”
I nod, easing the car towards the shoulder to let them pass, but they don’t. The lights stay bright, and the car gets too close.
My pulse starts to hammer. I press my foot down a little. The engine hums louder, but the car behind us matches the speed.
Then it surges forward.
“Archer!”
The impact slams into us. The steering wheel jerks in my hands. Tires screech against asphalt. I fight to keep control, but the back of the car fishtails.
Another hit—harder this time—and the world tilts.
Glass shatters. Lottie screams. The car spins, metal screaming against gravel and guardrail until everything explodes in white noise and pain.
Then… silence.
My head lolls forward, the taste of blood in my mouth. My vision swims, dark around the edges. Somewhere beside me, Lottie’s breathing is ragged, panicked.
“Lottie…” My voice is hoarse. I can’t move my legs—pinned under the dash. The smell of gasoline fills the air.
“Archer—” Her voice breaks into a sob.
I blink hard, trying to clear the blur from my eyes. Headlights. A door slamming. Heavy footsteps crunching on glass. Then someone’s tearing her door open.
