His clothes are soaked with his own blood and he’s getting colder by the second. He’s dying. Alex’s hand, twisted over the driver’s seat to reach him, feels so warm, but it’s getting harder to squeeze back.
“Just hang on, kid,” Alex keeps shouting at him every time his eyes close.
Sean knows the car is going fast, far too fast to be safe, but that’s not what scares him. He feels like he’s floating, like he’s already left his body. The only thing keeping him anchored is that rough hand gripping his.
Faces flash through his mind like signposts on the road. His father, wracked with concern; Winston’s mixture of shock and admiration after he pulled the trigger; the smile of that pretty, redhaired girl after he gave her his ticket. But the car is moving too fast, leaving everything and everyone behind.
All he has now is Alex, strong and warm and driving like a demon to save him.
“Hang on,” Alex shouts, so Sean does, just for a little longer.
Corinna flips back the curtains one more time. It’s only been 40 minutes but it feels more like four hours.
“Where the fuck is he?” Winston fumes as he paces. Fortunately, he’s too upset about Sean to put the moves on her. He curses her, curses Alex for getting them into this. He tells her Sean’s his brother and if anything happens to him, he’ll kill Alex. She doesn’t doubt him.
She still stares out the motel window, not really listening but mentally filing away everything he says.
“He’ll be back. Sean will be fine,” she says evenly and he stops pacing.
“How do you know?” he shouts. She turns to look at him, her glare an unspoken order to keep quiet. The last thing they need is the attention.
“Because I trust him,” she says simply. “And you should too.”
Winston sneers in reply, but he stops pacing. He sinks down on the bed, his head in his hands.
Corinna doesn’t leave the window.