Read an Excerpt

April 14, 2011

Killing him was unavoidable.

Noah saw the fat squirrel plop off the curb and lumber like a sumo wrestler across Ox Road. The animal reached the center line before doubling back into the path of Noah’s gold 2006 Dodge Dakota.

“Dude!” Noah shouted above the thuds and clunks. He yanked the wheel to the right much harder than he intended. First he thumped the squirrel, then he hopped the crumbling low curb, before finally hitting a woman riding a bright green mountain bike.

He was pale and mumbling a few of his mother’s replacement swear words as he jumped out of the truck. “Are you OK?”

The woman, lying some five feet from the front right corner of the truck, rolled onto her back, one foot stuck between the bike’s rear tire and the chain. Her hand went to a bleeding raspberry on her left cheek. One temple of a cracked pair of Oakley sunglasses poked out from under her bike helmet.

“Are you all right? I am so sorry. I totally did not see you.” He pulled his cell phone from his pocket and dialed 911.

The woman unhooked her helmet below her chin and tossed it to the side. “Oh, really?” she said. She struggled to remove her backpack from both shoulders. . . . She sat up, braced herself with her palms flat on the sidewalk, and looked up at the sky. “Really God? Today? Really?”

Noah sat near her. “Take a deep breath. I feel so terrible. My gosh. Really terrible. The ambulance should be here soon.” He stuck his hand out. “I’m sorry, I’m Noah Cooper. I didn’t get your name.”

“When exactly would you have gotten my name? Before or after running me down?” She rubbed her hands together, dislodging tiny pebbles, before shaking his hand. “Rachel.” She held his hand firmly an extra beat before adding, “And you nearly killed me.”

“Yeah, sorry, I realize that.” He pointed to the lump of sumo squirrel in the road. “I was avoiding him.”