For a second, she froze like she didn’t understand. Then her hands fumbled over the controls, and a moment later the low rumble cut out.
Good, I thought grimly. At least now she won’t be breathing in poison while I figure this out.
I slogged through knee-deep snow to the back of the car and crouched, shining my flashlight beneath the bumper. My gut twisted. The tailpipe was completely buried in hard-packed snow, sealed off like a plugged artery.
“Damn it,” I muttered. If she’d kept running that engine much longer, she would’ve been inhaling carbon monoxide without even knowing it.
I kicked the snow away until the metal pipe was free, my lungs burning from the cold and exertion. Then I circled back to her door. I tried to open it, but it was locked, so I pounded on the glass.
“Unlock it!” I yelled.
A shaky click answered me, and I yanked the door open.
A rush of stale, trapped heat hit me first, thick with a faint acrid edge that made my stomach twist. Then the storm air slammed into us, icy and brutal, like a wall of knives.
Sara flinched, curling in on herself. Her lips were pale, her cheeks blotchy with cold, and tears clung to her lashes.
“Come on,” I said, crouching low and reaching for her. “We need to get you into my truck.”
Her teeth chattered so hard her words broke apart. “I… I tried to dig it out. Tried to push it free, but I… I couldn’t feel my fingers or toes anymore.”
I swore under my breath. Her clothes were soaked, jeans stiff with half-frozen water, and her boots were caked with ice. She must’ve been outside far too long, fighting a battle she couldn’t win.
“Shit.” I stripped off one glove and took her hand. Her skin was like ice. “You should’ve stayed in the car.”
“I couldn’t just sit there,” she whispered, voice thick with exhaustion and frustration.
“I know,” I said, softening my tone even as anger at the situation burned through me. Not at her, never at her, but at the storm, at her fear, at the fact that she’d been out here alone. “I’ve got you now.”
Before she could protest, I slid an arm under her knees and another behind her back, lifting her easily. She was too light, her body stiff from cold and strain.
The wind howled as I carried her through the snow, taking care to keep every step deliberate and steady.
“Hang on, Sara,” I said, my voice a promise against the storm. “We’re almost out of this.”
The second I had her buckled into my truck, I slammed the door and jogged around to my side. Snow was coming down so hard now that it felt like the storm was trying to erase the whole mountain.
Sara sat stiff and silent, her hands clutched in her lap. Even with the heater blasting, she trembled like the cold had gotten inside her bones.
The tires gripped in four-low, slow but steady, and I let out a breath when her car vanished behind us in the swirling white.
“You scared the hell out of me,” I muttered, my knuckles tight on the wheel. “You could’ve…” I cut myself off. No point in saying what we both already knew. She could’ve died out there.
Her voice was barely audible over the hum of the heater. “Lucas…?”
I tried not to let the surprise that she remembered my name show. “Yeah?”
“Thank you.” The words wavered, as fragile as she looked.
“Don’t thank me yet,” I said gruffly. “We’re not out of this storm.”
The truck crawled up the mountain road, snow piling on either side like walls closing in. She stayed quiet, which I didn’t mind. She needed to rest, to feel safe, and I needed to keep us both alive.
I kept my focus locked on the narrow tracks ahead, hands steady on the wheel while my pulse hammered. Sara sat curledinto herself in the passenger seat, silent except for the occasional shaky breath.
The storm pounded against the truck like it wanted to rip us off the mountain. I knew this road like the back of my hand now. Three months of living and working up here had taught me every bend and every rut, but even that knowledge didn’t make me cocky. One wrong move, and we’d join her car in a snowbank.
Finally, a faint glow pierced the swirling white ahead. The ranch lights.
