“Perfect,” I mutter. “Just perfect.”
My dad’s voice echoes from years ago.Always get a vehicle that can handle the terrain, Jodi. Don’t be like those fools who think any car will do.
Yeah, Dad. You win.
I should’ve checked the forecast.Reidprobably did. He’s the type of man who is always prepared.
My chest pulls tight, because the only thing worse than disappointing my parents is the thought of disappointing him.
I sit there in the quiet car until my breath stops fogging in front of me. Until my hands stop shaking. Until I accept what I should’ve admitted last night.
He’s mine.
I want to knock on his door and apologize and kiss him until he forgets I ever said something so stupid.
The only thing keeping my ass planted in the seat is the thought he might not want to see me.
I close my eyes, inhale, exhale.
“I’ll try anyway,” I murmur. “I won’t mess this up again.”
Climbing out of the car, my boots crunch in the snow as the first pink edges of sunrise bleed over the Hope Peak Mountains.
Looking up, heart in my throat, I see someone coming toward me through the snow.
Broad shoulders. Dark jacket. Determined stride.
Reid.
Coming forme.
Reid
The snow came down hard after midnight. Hard enough that by dawn the parking lot looks like someone dumped the whole damn north pole on top of it.
Pulling on my coat I step outside, the cold biting my face and ears. I don’t know what I expect to see out here. Maybe her car buried under an avalanche. Maybe nothing at all.
What I don’t expect isher.
She’s standing beside her Civic. It’s half-buried, windshield frosted over, and unable to move an inch. Leaving has always been easy for me. I pack up, point the truck toward the next town, and don’t look back. Staying is what scares me. Staying means letting someone see me when there’s nothing to fix, nothing to prove, nothing to hide behind. But when I look at Jodi, snowed in and trying so hard to be brave, I know I’m done running.
“Jodi,” I call out as I cross the lot.
She startles, snapping her head up, breath forming a pale cloud in the early morning air.
“Reid.”
“You weren’t seriously going to try driving this thing down the mountain.”
“It’s not. I wasn’t—” Her eyes squeeze shut. “I wasn’t going to leave yet.”
The way her voice carries softly, slightly broken hits me low and hard. I feel like an ass for snapping at her. For lashing out.
Even if she doesn’t want me, I still want her safe.
I fold my arms, just to keep my hands from reaching for her.
“What are you doing out here? It’s too cold and you still don’t have a damn coat, Jodi.”
