Oh, holy mother of God, yes. I was in a high-stakes game of Operation—only instead of avoiding the edges, the object was not to rock the car—I slid my hand into my purse, grasped my phone and, slowly pulled it close enough to peer at the screen.
No service.
Please, no. Oh, please please please, God.
Eyes squeezed shut, I swallowed back a fresh bout of hysteria.Don’t shake, don’t move a muscle. Think, dammit!
Okay. I opened my eyes again, blinked.
No bars right here, but if I could get out of the car and walk—never mind thesestupidshoes—I could find shelter. Or one measly little bar. Enough to get a text out. Or an emergency call. Something.
Sucking in a big, shaky breath, I reached for the handle, pulled, and pushed. Wouldn’t budge.
Oh, hell.
Fueled by desperation, I hit the unlock button, jolted at the sound, and tried again.
Nothing.
I can’t die.There’s too much I haven’t done. Too many promises I’ve made myself.
And what about Gran? She couldn’t handle another shock.Oh, God, please someone, help.
Eyes wide now, the inevitability of it turning everything crystal clear, I stared up. Granny Evans would spend Christmas alone, worrying about me.
Something shifted above and I shut my eyes only to be assaulted by images of my body, smashed and ruined, at the bottom of this ravine. Wherever the hell this place was. I couldn’t even picture it on a map. And for some reason, not knowing where I was about to die made it all worse.
A scuffing noise, gritty like dirt on a road, made me open my eyes.
Was that a person up there?
2
Micah
Ieyed the car, wedged between a four-foot rock ledge and a young lodgepole pine. Christ, the asshole was lucky.
It was tempting to let him fend for himself, considering where he’d built his stupid McCabin. Damned thing was an eyesore.
I took a few steps closer, over ice-slicked asphalt, before looking over the side. Shit. Didn’t look stable. I’d need to climb down.
Yanking off my gloves, I eyed the night-dark rock face. I could get down this, no problem. Getting another person up, however…
No point worrying right now.
I let my legs drop over the side, hands gripping the edge, found a quick foothold, and shifted my weight. Another shift, another foothold, one hand, then the other. Piece of cake.
We’d see how it’d be with whoever was in that car.
Couldn’t be the new neighbor. Rich dudes didn’t drive Volkswagens. Probably line 4 in their stupid handbook, with an asterisk pointing to allowed vehicles: Audis and Suburbans and Kawasaki motorcycles. Fucking Jeeps.
Something moved below, with a sound of grinding metal. Damn thing was about to go.
I picked up my pace. My foot hit the first tuft of grass and I dropped, then quickly walked the last few feet to the car.
“You okay in there?” I called out, my voice over-loud in the ice-shrouded quiet.
A woman’s voice sounded from inside, the words unclear.
