Molly
I’m still staring at the car.
The front bumper is inches from where that press guy had been standing. Inches. If Eric hadn’t swerved at the last second, if he hadn’t somehow forced the steering to respond when the brakes didn’t…
God.
Eric is already out apologizing to the man, explaining something about brake failure. The guy looks shaken but alive. Alive. That’s the only word that keeps repeating in my head.
I step forward slowly. My legs feel unsteady, like they don’t quite belong to me. My heart is still beating too fast, like it hasn’t realized we stopped moving.
We were almost here. Just seconds away from pulling in normally.
And then the brakes didn’t work.
They didn’t just feel weak. They didn’t respond at all.
I don’t even know how Eric managed to stop the car. One
