I’m pulled out of my thoughts when I realize the light flurries that have been falling for the last couple of hours are no longer light; the snowfall coming down around me now is thick and heavy. Little white drifts are building up beside the highway and along the center dividers. Glancing at the clock, I realize that I’ve still got several hours of driving ahead of me. I swallow thickly when I look at the sky and realize it’s no longer steely gray. It’s much darker and the clouds look like they’re about to burst open.
Taking a breath, I try to chase away the little seedlings of panic trying to take root. I’m not alone. There are plenty of other cars on the highway, and I’m sure the roads have been cleared. I mean, this is Canada, for god’s sake. If there’s one thing they probably know how to do properly, it’s clear snow, right?
In the next half hour, I go from nervously reassuring myself that I’ll be fine, to absolutely white-knuckling it. Traffic has slowed to barely a crawl, and I can hardly see the taillights of the vehicle in front of me.
Shit, shit, shit. What am I going to do? I have a fear of being in a situation where I can’t contact anyone or call for help. When we were young, Reed and I were in a serious car accident, and I still bear some trauma from the experience. We were stuck in our overturned car at the bottom of a ditch for what felt like hours, and I’ll never forget the feeling of knowing, just knowing, I was going to die. In reality, we’d been rescued pretty quickly, even though it did not feel that way to either of us.
Sitting in the car, snow falling so hard, the only thing I can see is a wall of white. The tendrils of panic creep up my spine and curl their way into my chest. They wrap around my lungs, making it hard to take a deep breath. I know how to ward off a panic attack. It’s been a long time since I’ve had one, but my training comes back to me like riding a bike. I continue breathing as deeply as I can, and try to count five things I can see, hear, smell, and touch. Reconnecting with my senses helps me stave off the panic, and within a few minutes I can feel my heart rate slow down.
After we’ve been completely stopped for a while, I see the red and blue lights of a police car moving slowly toward me. It pauses briefly every few minutes and then approaches again. Thank god, at least they’re giving us information. Hopefully, they’ll have good news, and we won’t be stuck here long.
As they approach my car, I roll down the window for the bundled-up cop walking alongside the cruiser, holding one of those giant flashlights.
“Evening, Officer. Please tell me you’ve got some good news about the road?” I say, fighting to keep the nerves out of my voice.
The guy laughs. “Sorry, son. I wish I had better news for you, but we have to shut it down. We’ve already had two serious accidents, and the weather’s gonna get a whole lot worse over the next few hours.”
“Well, crap,” I say with a grimace. “What are you all suggesting people do?”
He offers me a sympathetic smile. “Well, you’ve got two options: you can turn around and head back toward the coast, or you can stick it out here for the night and hope they can open the road in the morning. If you want my personal opinion, though, I think that’s pretty unlikely. This storm feels like a big one.”
“Aaargh,” I say eloquently, leaning my head against the steering wheel. My visions of a relaxing couple of days with friends fading away and being replaced by unpleasant images of a long drive back to the coast in terrible conditions.
“Honestly, son, my recommendation is to turn back. My guess is the road’s gonna be closed for a few days.” He smiles kindly. “I wish I had better news for you.”
I smile ruefully, thanking him as he heads toward the next car.
Dammit. What the fuck do I do now?
I should probably take the cop’s advice and start heading back, but before beginning my hellish drive, I decide to indulge myself in a little pity-party. I grab the phone to call Reed so I can bitch and complain at him for a bit, and also let him know I’ll be back at his place sooner than planned.
After updating him on my current predicament though, instead of the expected laughter, I get a tense-sounding silence.
“Reed, you know I’m not pissed at you, right?” I ask. “I was just fucking around. It’s totally my fault I left late. I just felt like whining and thought it would be funny to blame you.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know,” he says. “But Dylan and I’ve been checking the news. The weather office just issued some kind of crazy weather warning I’ve never seen before. They’re telling people to get inside and batten down the hatches. This storm is huge, and it’s going to hammer the hell out of the whole Pacific Northwest for the next two or three days. Hurricane-force winds are going to be felt way farther inland than ever before. Road conditions are horrible already and they’re getting worse fast. I’m worried about you being out there at all.”
“Well, shit.” I lean my head against the steering wheel again in frustration. “That’s not exactly what I was hoping to hear.”
Chapter 6
MATT
I’montheroadMonday morning, venti caramel latte in hand, my SUV packed to the gills with everything I could need. I was reluctant to accept the offer of a few days alone at a luxury mountain cabin owned by my friend and number two guy at the company, Hunter Davies, but as I head out bright and early, I have to admit I’m looking forward to it. It’s been a long year, and but my divorce from Michele is finally done, and Hunter convinced me to ‘honor my experience’ by taking a few days to reset myself. Hunter’s a little more hipster than I am, but I have to admit, after the last few years of ‘go go go’, I’m ready to take my brain out and just exist for a few days. Their cabin is on the Canadian side of the border, nestled in the Rocky Mountains. Apparently there are no neighbors within sight of the place so it’s completely private (a feature Hunter’s new husband, Penn, made sure to impress upon me. He also made sure I knew that the hot tub is completely private, so swimsuits are optional). I brought everything I could imagine wanting, since I know I won't want to leave once I get there. Being a hermit for the next few days sounds remarkably good.
Around lunchtime, I pull into a gas station to fill up and grab some peanut butter cups because even though I’m not religious, I’m pretty sure it’s against one of the commandments to take a road trip with no road snacks. The clerk smiles as he’s putting my haul into a bag. “I hope you’ve got good snow tires on your car. It’s supposed to turn real nasty out there,” he says as I hand him my credit card.
“Oh, is that right?” I ask, and he nods.
“They’ve been talking about it for the last couple of days. Massive storm expected. They say it’s gonna shut everything down from north of here all the way down into the states for the whole week. So you need to drive real careful and make sure your tires are good, eh?”
“Good thing I brought enough supplies to last me a month, then,” I laugh.
“With the way this storm is shaping up, you might need it all.” He grins at me. “You drive safe now,” he calls as I walk out the door and I reply with a wave of thanks.
A couple of hours later, my GPS leads me up a winding mountain road that feels more like logging track than the route to an enclave of luxurious mountain homes. But after a few minutes, I come around a sharp bend to find one of the most beautiful views I’ve ever seen.
“Whoa,” I say out loud. Hunter wasn’t kidding when he said the place was like a resort. The main house is an A-frame style building, the yellow color of the enormous cedar logs contrasting beautifully with the green metal roof. It definitely looks more like a fabulous chalet than a little mountain cabin.
