“Uh…” I try the engine again and listen to it gurgle, click, but not turn over. “My truck died.”
The truck I sent to the mechanic three weeks ago to double-check was safe to drive. The truck they assured me would get me through another winter so I can safely deliver my baby without worry.
The truck that is now definitely dead, right in front of my driveway.
“It’s okay,” I say, smoothing a hand down my hair. “I’m right outside my house.”
It’ll be cold as hell, but I can get in there. The snow might be thick and falling fast, but if I’m fast…My gaze darts to the bagsof groceries and my last-minute supplies. There is no way in hell I’m getting myself and all these bags safely into the house.
Another cramp hits, and I curse under my breath. “I’ll be okay,” I breathe, more to myself than my friends on the other end of the line.
Yeah, I’ll be okay. I’ll survive this snowstorm, cut electricity, and being alone…
I hate Willow Ridge winters.
THREE
SAWYER
My cell buzzes, drawing my attention away from the snow-packed street and the ever-darkening sky. My gaze darts to the screen, stomach twisting when Noah’s name appears on it.
Under my breath, I curse and pull over. The call ends abruptly before I can pick it up, but as soon as my gloved hands curl around the device, he calls again.
He wouldn’t call unless it was an emergency.
“Yeah,” I say, picking up the call. The other end is already fuzzy with static, the connection failing.
“Emergency,” he says, sounding tense. “A woman’s truck has broken down. She’s nine months pregnant, and the power is out on her street. She’s close enough to her house that she can get in, but without power…”
My stomach sinks, thoughts flashing back to the woman at the grocery store. So round, she looked like she was ready to pop. Heart pounding, I switch the cell to my other ear and pull onto the street.
“Where is she?” I ask.
“Down Saint View Street,” Noah replies, his girl talking quietly in the background. Maybe to the pregnant woman, though I can’t hear anything over the static in the background.“We would go ourselves, but we’re too far. I figured you’d still be close to town.”
I press my lips into a firm line, trying to ignore the pressure building in my chest. “Yeah. I’m close.”
Maybe I should have approached her at the store. Maybe I should have told her to get back in her truck and get the hell out.
“Skye says she’s going to get out,” his girl says, panic filling her voice. “I’m trying to convince her to wait. She’ll be alone.”
There’s something about the way she saysalonethat triggers something within me. I’ve been alone my whole life. Never thought twice about it once I escaped the foster system and found my way here.
But there’s also never been someone who hascaredwhether or not I was alone, so hearing her panic come through from the other end of the line makes my chest hurt in a way that’s unfamiliar to me.
“I’m going to get her,” I promise, heart pounding. “Don’t worry.”
I pullup by the old, worn truck, stomach sinking as I take in the same vehicle I’d clocked less than an hour ago outside the grocery store. Now it’s buried beneath so much snow, I can’t even be sure.
My gut says it is, and the woman inside…
Fuck, I can’t see her.
I brave the cold and jump out of my truck, shivering immediately as I take in the flurry of ice and wind darkening the surrounding landscape. One of the nearby houses looks almost dystopian with Christmas lights blinking in and out, while the nearby motel looks abandoned and shut down.
Slowly, I make my way around the woman’s truck and check inside. Blue eyes I knew I’d get lost in meet mine, relief pouring through that one look. It’s a look that twists something within me, that has my heart crashing frantically against my ribs. And it dredges up something I’m not used to.
Clearing my throat, I pull her car door open and offer my hand. “Let’s go,” I say, keeping my gaze locked on hers.
