Broken Loop

Chapter Twenty-Eight: Loop #12 - Highway Plunge

Jade nodded and rose—leaning on Aiden's arm as she stepped across gravel. He guided her to a safe zone behind the guardrail, where he slid to his knees and wrapped arms around her once more.

The paramedics assessed her—heart rate rapid, but no physical injuries. The counselor knelt, soft voice: "Hi, Jade. I'm Kelly. Talk to me. What brought you here?"

She lifted her head, eyes red-rimmed. "I... needed... a way out." Her voice cracked like porcelain.

Kelly nodded. "Thank you for being alive and still talking." She glanced at Aiden. "You're her brother?"

He swallowed. "Yes."

Kelly looked at them both. "You did the right thing calling us."

Aiden exhaled. "Thank you."

She turned back to Kelly. "I'm sorry for dragging him into this."

Kelly shook her head. "You're safe now. That's what matters. We'll get you help."

•••

They rode in the ambulance to the nearest ER—no lights, no sirens, a quiet crawl that let adrenaline drain away. Aiden held Jade's hand, offered quiet sips of water, and whispered steady reminders: "You're safe. You're loved."

In the hospital's private room, Kelly introduced Jade to a psychiatric nurse and a social worker. Aiden hovered in a wicker chair, heart lodged in his throat. The nurse asked Jade to recount her feelings; the social worker offered resources: crisis hotline, a women's support group, emergency planning. Aiden nodded, scribbling notes for follow-up.

After Jade signed consent for treatment, Kelly pulled Aiden aside. "You okay?"

He exhaled. "Scared."

Kelly nodded. "That's good. It means you care. Let her rest now."

He watched her wheel Jade's gurney down the hall—Jade pushing with one trembling hand, eyes fixed straight ahead.

Alone in the room, Aiden sank onto the hospital bed's edge. He pulled the pocket watch from his pocket—its crystal face dark, the brass cold. He pressed it anyway. No glow.

He closed his eyes. The loops were over.

•••

Night settled outside, though the corridor lights never dimmed. Aiden pulled his jacket tighter and settled into the wicker chair. He drew Jade's overnight bag onto his lap and rifled through its pockets: a notebook, her laptop, a fresh charger, a folded Polaroid of the oak swing. He slipped the photo into his journal—proof of their first shared memory, a beacon against the darkness.

He opened the journal to a new page and wrote in violet ink:

> Loop #12: Highway Plunge—May 3, 2025 > Jade climbed over the guardrail at milepost 24, drowning in despair. I chased her, braked with sheer will, and dragged her back from the brink. No watch. No magic. Only love.

He let the words settle.

He thought of every loop before this—every time he'd pressed the crystal, rewriting fate at the expense of memory. Each time, he'd believed he was saving her. Tonight, he'd saved her through action, through presence, through refusing to let magic absolve him of responsibility.

He closed the journal, tucking it beneath his arm. He pressed the pocket watch back into his pocket—an inert heirloom, a reminder of power he no longer needed.

•••

At 2:33 AM, a nurse peeked in. "Mr. Hartman?"

He rose, closing the door quietly behind him.

"She's resting," the nurse said, smile gentle. "Vitals normal. Psychiatric consult in the morning."

He nodded. "Thank you."

She left, and he stood in the hallway's quiet glow, breathing in the sterile air. He considered walking out now, leaving her in safe hands, but something held him there. He pressed the nurse-call button.

Moments later, the curtain rustled. Jade, still pale, peeked out.

"Aiden?"

He smiled—tender, relieved. "Yes."

She rubbed her eyes. "You stayed."

"Wouldn't leave you."

She sat up, blanket slipping from her shoulder. He crossed and helped her adjust the sheets.

In the hush, words felt small. He knelt beside her bed, pressed his forehead to hers. "I love you."

She closed her eyes. "I love you."

He inhaled the scent of her hair—lavender shampoo and something faintly of salt air. He realized love alone couldn't fix everything, but it was the only tool he truly trusted.

•••

Before dawn, Aiden found the reflection lounge—a quiet room with low chairs and muted lamps. He sank into a seat and thumbed through his grandmother's green-leather journal, tracing entries that spoke of balance and sacrifice. He paused on the page after the final ritual:

> "The watch's power is inert once a heart holds its own life. No more loops. Only love and days to come."

He closed the journal and pressed it to his chest.

Outside the window, the first hint of light threaded the sky. A new morning—no loops needed, no magic to bind them. Only raw presence.

He rose and returned to Jade's room. She lay asleep, chest rising and falling in gentle rhythms. He slipped the watch and journal into her overnight bag, zipped it shut, and placed it on the chair.

He tapped the time: 5:59 AM. Tomorrow would begin in one minute.

He sat beside her bed and took her hand, breathing in the fragile peace of her slumber. In that light—pale, trembling, hopeful—he understood at last: the greatest loop they'd ever lived wasn't around time but around love's endless return.