Untouched A Cedar Cove Novella

still the no-hope kid of two messed-up losers who had no business being parents in the first place. I’m still stuck in some nothing small town, working three jobs to keep us all afloat. Still doing everything I can to make sure my younger siblings don’t wind up like me.
    Shit.
    I grab my cellphone, already feeling a rush of guilt as I dial my little sister. “Hey, Brit, you OK?”
    She answers sounding pissed, but I don’t blame her. “I’m fine. What happened to you?”
    “I’m sorry I didn’t make it back like I said.” I lean my head back to rest it against the seat, closing my eyes against the harsh glare of morning light. “Is everything OK there?”
    “I don’t know,” Brit drawls. “There was a party, I wound up crashing at Keira’s.”
    “Brit!” I exclaim, angry. Ever since she turned fifteen, she’s been pushing hard at the few rules I try to lay down. “What did we say about your curfew?”
    “I don’t know why I have to go home if none of you do.” Brit replies, and although her voice is petulant, I hear a tremble in it.
    Damn.
    “Mom didn’t come home?” I ask, and I know the answer, even before she replies.
    “Nope.”
    The guilt gets worse as I imagine Brit alone in the house, waiting for Mom to stumble through the door in Lord-knows-what kind of a state. No wonder she went out partying rather than wait up all night for someone who might not come home. “What about your brother?” I ask.
    “Ray Jay bailed in the morning, said something about a friend in Mobile.” Brit is silent for a second, then adds in a small voice. “Can you get some cereal on your way home? There’s no food in the house.”
    “Sure,” I promise quickly, “I’ll pick up some groceries before I head to work. And, I’m sorry, OK? I should have called.”
    “Whatever.” The sullen tone is back in Brit’s voice. “I’m heading to the beach with some people later. Don’t wait up.”
    She hangs up, leaving me feeling like the worst damn brother in the world. Brit likes to talk tough, but I know that under everything, she’s still just a kid. A kid who shouldn’t have to deal with this shit, not if I can help it.
    I quickly call my boss back at the bar and let him know I picked up the supplies he ordered, then I start the engine, and hit the road back to Cedar Cove. It’s an hour’s drive, and I throw on a mix CD full of angry rock songs. Even though the noise makes my head pound even harder, I need the noise—anything to drown out the guilt and shame trailing me, every mile I put between myself and last night’s meaningless conquest.
    It’s a cloudy day, and as I head onto the coastal highway, it starts to rain: a grim drizzle, spattering against the truck windows. Despite the weather, summer season’s already started, and soon the road home will be packed with tourists and their rental cars, heading out to enjoy the small beach town for a few weeks. For now, it’s empty, save me and the car up ahead: a beat-up old Civic driving fast above the speed limit. I ease back and follow behind in lane, letting the music rattle through my brain, trying to numb the dirty, sleepless morning-after feeling itching in my veins.
    I shouldn’t have done it. The bar, the booze, the girl. None of it. I’ve been there so many times before: a different place, another girl, and it always winds up the same, with me sneaking out the morning after, feeling like a piece of shit excuse for a human being. I don’t know why I keep trying, when I know how it’s going to end. I guess I still have this hope, that one of these days I’ll find it: that elusive escape. Some moment of peace. A way for the world to make sense—and someone who understands it.
    Understands me.
    The music goes silent at the end of the mix, leaving my thoughts way too loud. I reach over to find another CD.
    Suddenly a bang sounds from the road.
    What the--?
    I look up in time to see the car in front spin wildly out of control—skidding on the wet highway, heading straight back towards me.
    I yank the wheel around, swerving with everything I’ve got. Time slows as the other car skims past, just inches from the truck. I feel a shot of adrenalin racing through me, hanging on the edge as I desperately try to control my spin. I can see the passengers in the front of the other car as it careens past, but I can’t make out their faces. Then the truck hurtles off the road and I slam to a stop in a bank of sand and mud.
    Silence.
    I catch