Speed—one of the things I love.
The rush of adrenaline it brings does it for me.
But if this kid is mine—he’s mine—then I’m going to have to change things, especially the way I live.
The drugs have to go. The drinking has to stop.
I’ll get clean.
Go into rehab if I have to. Do whatever is necessary.
I feel a rush of excitement, something I never thought I could feel at the thought of having a child.
Johnny Cash’s “You Are My Sunshine” comes on the radio. Turning it up loud, I hum along, my fingers tapping on the wheel.
This is it. Right here, my life is going to change. I’m going to change everything for him.
Storm is my reason to be a better man.
God, Mom and Dad are going to be so excited when they find out they have a grandson.
I bring my cell to life, looking at Storm’s picture again. I rest my cell on the top of the steering wheel, staring at him.
Screw not calling Jake.
I’m on my way to the airport. It’s not like he can stop me anyway. I have to talk to him about this. I need to tell someone, and he’s always the first person I want to tell the good stuff to.
Clicking off Storm’s picture, I bring up Jake’s number. I’m just about to hit dial when I see a flash of something up ahead in my peripheral vision.
A dog.
Fuck.
It all happens so quickly. Hitting my breaks, I swerve to miss the dog. My tires lock up and I clip the curb. My car spins out, hitting the barrier, and I go straight through.
Fuck no.
The car feels like it’s flying.
Then, down.
Down.
And I know this is it.
I’m going to die.
I’m going to fucking die.
I’ll never get to meet my son.
I never got to tell Jake or my folks about him.
I never got to meet my son.
A tear rolls down my face as I watch the ground coming fast toward me.
I shut my eyes—