I twist toward the window, debating whether to try climbing out or maybe even breaking the glass, when headlights flash through the rain blinding me for a split second.
A truck. Big. Older model. Mud-splattered and dented in that charmingI’ve seen some shitkind of way.
It screeches to a stop just ahead, wheels skidding on the edge of what used to be a road.
Before I can do more than blink, a figure jumps out—tall, broad-shouldered, wearing a beat-up Carhartt jacket and a cowboy hat pulled low over his face.
He splashes toward me like he doesn’t even feel the cold, reaching the car in seconds. I see him yank at the driver’sside door, grimace, then disappear from my view. No! He can’t leave!
“Come back!” I yell, my breath coming out in puffs of fog.
A heartbeat later, he’s at the passenger side, bracing against the current.
“Don’t panic,” he says, voice low and calm, like this is just another Monday. “We’re getting you out of here.”
“Working on not panicking,” I reply, voice shaking more than I’d like.
He jerks the door open with a grunt. The sudden rush of water nearly knocks the wind out of me as it soaks through my clothes. Before I can react, his arms are around me, hauling me out like I weigh nothing and not the two-hundred fifty pounds that I am.
The wind hits hard. The creek is louder out here, roaring like it’s angry I got away. I shudder as water splashes on me, soaking my clothes even more. I’m really regretting my outfit choice because these leggings and t-shirt are doing nothing to keep me warm. And the jacket? Might as well have left it back in the car.
The man carries me through the freezing mess back to the truck and sets me down gently on the passenger seat. I’m soaked, shivering, and trying to pretend I don’t feel like a drowned cat.
He slams the door shut, jogs around, and climbs in beside me.
“You okay?” he asks, glancing over.
I still can’t see much of his face since the collar of his jacket is flipped up.
I nod, teeth chattering as I hold my hands in front of the heater. “I think so. You, uh, always make dramatic rescues, or is today just my lucky day?”
He huffs a breath but says nothing. Instead, he keeps his eyes locked on the road ahead, knuckles tight on the wheel as we take off.
Fine by me. If we’re going swimming again, I’d at least like toseeit coming this time.
“Buckle up,” he says, voice low and steady.
There’s something about it—gravelly, unbothered, and somehow familiar—that sends an unexpected prickle down my arms. I tell myself it’s just the cold. Definitely not the voice.
I snap the seatbelt into place and glance down at my legs. Then I laugh. Short. Bitter. Almost unhinged.
“Guess these boots weren’t as ‘functional’ as the online reviews claimed.”
My brand-new white leather cowboy boots complete with delicate little blue flowers stitched up the sides are absolutely ruined. Waterlogged. Caked in mud. One heel’s already breaking off.
He glances sideways at them.
“You worethoseto Broken Heart Creek?” he asks.
“I was going for local flair,” I shoot back. “Clearly, I overshot.”
This time, he actually lets out a soft chuckle.
“You here to see Phern?” he asks casually, eyes still on the road.
“I, uh, got lost,” I lie. “Think I took a wrong turn somewhere and ended up here.”
He hums. “Ah. Let me guess. You watchedYellowstoneand now you’re out here trying to find your very own Jamie.”
