His skin was cold, but his hold was unyielding.

“The crash,” he said, his breathing shallow.

“It wasn’t an accident.”

“The police said you lost control on the wet road,” I said.

“They said you were driving recklessly.”

Ethan shook his head slightly, a grimace of pain crossing his face.

“I was driving home from the city,” he whispered.

“The rain was heavy, but I knew those roads by heart.”

“I hit the bend near the cliffs, where the guardrail is rusted.”

“I stepped on the brakes.”

“Nothing.”

“The pedal went straight to the floorboard.”

He paused, swallowing hard, his throat dry.

I reached for the water glass on the nightstand, but he didn’t let go of my wrist.

“Listen to me,” he gasped.

“I saw a car behind me.”

“A large black SUV.”

“It kept its high beams on, blinding my mirrors so I couldn’t see the driver clearly.”

“But it rammed my rear bumper.”

“It pushed me over the edge.”

“I saw the headlights illuminate the guardrail just before I went through.”

“The SUV stopped at the top of the cliff.”