Broken Loop

Chapter Twenty-Eight: Loop #12 - Highway Plunge

Wind gusted, and Jade's hair whipped across her face. She swallowed hard, unable to speak.

"I'm not... letting you do this," Aiden panted.

She shook her head, tears slipping. "I can't..."

He surged forward, grabbing her ankles as she teetered. Gravel spattered down the cliffside. The world pitched sideways.

"Hold on!" he rasped, arms burning.

Her breath caught. He wrapped both arms around her torso, yanking her back over the rail in one violent motion. She hit the hood with a thud, kneed him in the chest by accident, both of them sliding down toward the bumper. They crashed to the ground, heads whipping, hearts pounding.

Aiden drew in a ragged breath: "Get away from the edge."

Jade lay tangled in his arms on the hood, the car's sloping surface tilting toward the chasm. She sobbed, hot and ragged.

He pressed her back against his chest, cradling her head. "I'm here," he whispered. "I'm here."

Her sobs rattled through his ribs. The guardrail above their heads rattled in the wind. Each wave's roar was an echo of her sobs, a reminder of how close she'd been to forever silence.

He slid off the hood and rolled onto the gravel, dragging her with him. They landed on the asphalt's edge, backs scraping grit. He grabbed her hand and yanked her upright.

"Inside," he ordered, voice fierce with desperation. "Now."

She nodded, unsteady. He half-supported, half-shoved her back into the car, closing the door. He went around to the driver's side, yanked the key from the ignition, and pocketed it.

The car sat teetering inches from the cliff's edge, one front tire half-dangling. A moment's misstep would send it—and them—into the grey jaws below.

Aiden's panting filled the small cabin. He steepled his fingers against his forehead. "This is it," he murmured. "No more loops."

Jade slumped, forehead pressed to the steering wheel, body shaking. She removed her hands from the wheel and let them fall to her lap.

He climbed in beside her, braced his foot against the passenger door, and faced her. His eyes burned with tears he wouldn't release. "Listen to me," he said softly. "You almost... you almost took it this time."

She lifted her head, jelly-legged. Her eyelashes trembled with tears. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

He pressed his hand to her cheek. "I know." His voice cracked. "But no. No more sorrys." He paused, took a rocked breath. "You deserve to live."

She closed her eyes, tears spilling. "I'm scared."

He exhaled, pressing his forehead to hers. "Me too. But I'll stay scared with you. I promise."

She sank back in her seat. He climbed out, yanked the driver's door open, and retrieved his cell phone. The last loop had faded the watch's glow, but this time he didn't care about magic—he cared about her life.

He called 911: "I need help—scenic overlook off Highway 1. A woman in emotional crisis. Please, send an ambulance and a crisis team."

His voice shook. Jade watched him from the passenger window, tears staining her cheeks.

Within minutes—impossibly fast on a rural highway—a patrol car's lights pulsed red and blue, strobes flashing across the rocks. A paramedic van rolled up behind; a crisis-counselor car idled further back.

Aiden hopped out, waving them over. The paramedics leapt out and rushed around the car. The counselor approached, notebook in hand, eyes soft.

Jade opened her door with trembling hands. A medical technician placed a hand on her back. "Let's step away from the edge," she said kindly.