How Does 'Collide' End?

I just finished reading 'Collide' last night, and that ending left me staring at the ceiling for hours—it’s the kind of finale that lingers like a stain you can’t scrub off. The book builds up this explosive tension between the two main characters, Garrett and Riley, whose love-hate dynamic feels like a lit fuse from the start. The final chapters throw them into this brutal confrontation where secrets unravel like loose threads. Garrett’s betrayal isn’t just emotional; it’s tactical, rooted in his family’s vendetta against Riley’s. The climax happens at this abandoned dockyard, rain pouring down like the universe itself is weeping, and Riley—who’s spent the whole novel toeing the line between vengeance and vulnerability—finally snaps. She doesn’t kill Garrett, though she could’ve. Instead, she leaves him kneeling in the mud, gutted by the realization that his lies cost him the one person who ever saw through his armor. The last scene is Riley driving away, the city lights blurring behind her, and you’re left wondering if she’s free or just running. The ambiguity is genius. No neat bows, just raw human messiness.

What sticks with me, though, is how the author plays with parallels. Earlier in the book, there’s this moment where Garrett jokes about colliding cars being the only way they’d ever stop fighting. The ending mirrors that: their relationship crashes, but it’s Riley who walks away from the wreck. The epilogue hints at Garrett trying to redeem himself, but it’s vague—just a newspaper clipping about him donating to a shelter Riley once mentioned. No reunion, no forgiveness. Just two people shaped by the collision, forever marked. It’s not a happy ending, but it’s satisfying in a way that feels true to the story’s grit. If you’re into romances that taste more like blood than sugar, this one’s a knockout.