Free The Time Traveler's Boyfriend by Annabelle Costa

whisper, taking his hand in mine. Please don’t die. Please …
    I hear sirens in the distance. And then I hear something else, a familiar whooshing noise. And I realize that I’m seconds away from disappearing. “Nobody move him!” I warn the people surrounding him, but even my voice seems to be fading.
    I release Adam’s hand and back away from the crowd. There are so many people around, but nobody’s paying much attention to me when Adam is half-dead on the street. I grab onto a blue mailbox and crouch down as the world starts to spin. I feel sick, so sick … and then …
    I’m gone.

CHAPTER EIGHT
     
    Adam’s living room comes back into focus. I stand still as long as I possibly can because I don’t want “something bad” to happen, but as soon as everything seems steady, I collapse onto the floor. I retch somewhat unattractively, but at least I don’t throw up this time. I guess I already emptied my stomach.
    I lift my head and see that Adam is next to me. He’s alive—thank God! Thank God, thank God. I was so scared that he … well, I don’t even want to think about it.
    And he’s still in his wheelchair, which comes as both a relief and a deep disappointment. I look up at his face and see the same lines around his eyes, the same gray hairs, but something is different about him somehow. I can’t quite put my finger on it. “Claudia,” he says, wheeling over to me. He puts his hand on my shoulder. “Are you okay?”
    I nod, getting unsteadily to my feet. I look around the room. Everything looks exactly the same as when I left, right down to the yellow mustard stain on Adam’s ratty couch. All the same. Yet I look back at Adam and I still get that sense he’s different somehow, but I still can’t say what it is. It’s driving me crazy.
    Adam looks up at me, shifting in his wheelchair. “So, um, what happened? I thought you were going to stop me from walking in front of that taxi?”
    “No,” I say. “I was supposed to keep your bike from getting hit by a taxi. And I did.”
    Adam stares at me. “What are you talking about? My bike? I wasn’t on a bike.”
    “You were ,” I insist. “That’s what you told me. Keep you from getting on a bike so you wouldn’t get hit by a car. And I did!”
    “What?” Adam blinks at me. “You … I never …”
    We stare at each other for a minute, then Adam looks down at his legs. “Maybe,” he says, heaving a sigh, “you can’t change the outcome. Maybe the future is unchangeable.”
    I don’t know what to say to that. I mean, I did what he wanted me to do. I risked my life going through a goddamn wormhole so he’d be able to walk again, and now he’s saying that it didn’t matter? That there was no way I could change anything?
    “But I did change things,” I point out. “You were supposed to get hit on your bike and … I changed that part.”
    “Fantastic,” Adam snorts. “I’m still fucking paralyzed.” He rubs his face, as if trying to push out the reality of what’s happening right now. All his hopes were apparently pinned on this time machine and fixing what happened to him all those years ago.
    And that’s when I realize what’s different about Adam. He’s always been a bit lackadaisical about shaving, to the point where I’ve rarely seen him without some degree of beard growth on his chin. Now he’s got about a day’s worth of stubble, but even through the mix of gray and brown hairs on his face, I can see a two-inch scar running along his jawline.
    Without thinking, I reach out to graze the scar with my fingertips. Adam jerks away from me, frowning. “What are you doing?”
    “That scar …” I murmur. “How did you get it?”
    He furrows his brow. “What are you talking about? I broke my jaw when the taxi hit me. I told you that.” Adam blanches as the realization dawns on him. “Are you saying that before you went back, that scar wasn’t there?”
    I nod.
    Adam’s eyes turn glassy. “My jaw was shattered,