And damn it… I was tired of being the woman who had to be so damn strong all the time. Just once, I wanted a man who’d refuse to let me change my tire because he didn’t want my hands dirty. Was that too much to ask for?
The truth was… I was lonely. Friends and family could only fill so much space, and I didn’t have many of those. There was still this quiet, aching part of me, this corner of my heart that wanted to be someone’s first choice. Their priority. Their reason.
Would that fix everything? No. I wasn’t naive.
But maybe it would convince me I wasn’t just passing through someone else’s life, waiting for my turn to matter.
It wasn’t like this heaviness came out of nowhere. No… it had roots.
Once upon a time, I’d thought I was in love. High school sweetheart, the whole cliché. Only he wasn’t sweet. He was controlling, manipulative... abusive. Smiles in public, threats in private. The kind of guy who wanted me to look perfect, act perfect, be perfect. Because anything less made him look weak.
We’d even been engaged. God, I’d been stupid.
I caught him cheating. Walked right into the proof. I thought I’d finally get to breathe free and call him out for what he was. But he twisted it, smooth as sin, and somehow, I ended up the liar. The unstable one. The girl who couldn’t keep her man.
Around here, rumors fly faster than the truth.
By the time I could speak, the story was already written, and my role was set. People don’t call me names to my face, but I hear the whispers when I walk into the store. Feel the stares when I fill up at the gas station. Too many looks that saywe know what you are.
And maybe that’s the worst part. On some days, I almost believed them. That deep down, I wondered if I really was the villain in my own story.
But he wouldn’t let me go. He still had this grip on me, constantly crawling back in private with promises he’d change, swearing he’d be better if I just gave him one more chance. Every no I gave him seemed to twist something darker in him, like he couldn’t stomach the rejection. He didn’t just want me back; he refused to accept that I could deny him.
That morning, it had all come to a head. He’d cornered me outside the grocery store, all false smiles for the people walking by, but his hand clamped hard on my wrist where no one could see. He whispered the same tired lines about how he still loved me, how we were meant to be, how I’d regret pushing him away. When I yanked free, his expression snapped from charming tovenomous in a heartbeat. I knew then that he wasn’t just trying to win me back anymore. He was punishing me for leaving.
By the time I got in my car, my hands were shaking so badly I could barely hold the wheel. I didn’t know where I was going, I just knew I couldn’t stay. Not with his eyes burning holes in my back, and certainly not with the weight of his threats clinging to me like smoke. The mountain road had felt like the perfect escape, a place where even his reach might not follow. But it didn’t matter where I went, he would show up. He always did. It wasn’t about love. It was about ownership.
The sky darkened, not just from the sinking sun, but from the heavy storm clouds rolling in, thick and ominous. Snow came down heavier now, thick flakes blurring the road into nothing but white streaks. The storm the radio had warned about all morning had finally caught up to me.
I tightened my grip on the wheel, leaning forward like squinting would somehow clear the windshield better than the wipers that were struggling to keep up. My little car groaned with every incline, tires slipping on the patchy snow and ice underneath.
“Please don’t do this,” I whispered, pressing harder on the gas. The wheels spun uselessly, and the engine whined in protest.
The tires caught for a second, just long enough to give me false hope, before they slid again and the car lurched sideways into the drift that had been building along the shoulder. The crunch of snow against the undercarriage sealed it… I wasn’t going anywhere.
“Shit.”
I slammed the gearshift into reverse and floored it again. Nothing. Tried rocking it forward, praying for traction. Still nothing but the grind of rubber against packed ice.
“Come on,” I groaned, shoving the door open and stepping into the storm. Snow hit my face like sharp little needles, and the cold cut straight through my jeans. I braced my shoulder against the frame and tried to push. The car didn’t budge. My boots slipped, and wet snow soaked into my socks.
Defeat crawled up my spine.
I dropped back into the seat, chest heaving, and stared at the gas gauge. Half a tank, maybe a little less. Enough to run the heater for a while… but not until morning. Not even close.
I knew the rules. Stay with the car. Wait it out. That was the smart thing.
But what happened when the gas ran out? When the heater clicked off and the cold seeped in? My little sedan wasn’t built for survival.
The snow was falling harder now, heavy and relentless, and the world outside my windshield was already fading into white. If I wanted to find shelter, I’d have to decide soon.
A half-memory tugged at me. Something about the Cardosa Ranch being tucked up this way. Not that I’d ever been there, but even in my darkest moods, the whispers about that place carried weight. And if this was that road… maybe I was closer to shelter than I thought.
Or if I headed back down toward the state park reservoir, they had cabins. Either way, it would mean leaving the thin safety of the car behind.
Not something I was willing to do.
I was reckless, not stupid.
