Snow completely obscures what should have been a relatively easy route to the hospital, turning the once treelined scenic road into one from my nightmares. The white flurry changes the basics of a route I’ve had ingrained in my mind since getting the job, but where there should have been gravel drives leading up into the mountain, there is nothing but white. No gates to deter tourists, no signs to indicate a bend. No streetlights to give me a clue as to where I am, and how far away the hospital should be.
If I wasn’t screwed before, I certainly am now.
I grit my teeth and try to follow the natural bend in the road, but the ice is thicker out here thanks to the roads not being as popular this time of year. Even though Coop made sure the truck was prepared for the storm, it still slides against the icy bitumen.
A gust of wind slams into the body of the truck. My hands grip the steering-wheel to keep steady, but the force of the wind rips away my control of the vehicle and takes me down into the forest lining the mountain road.
The car slams into the base of one of the old trees. My head snaps forward, colliding with the steering-wheel. The sound of crunching metal and the squeal of tires echoes in my ears as the world around me goes dark.
THREE
NOAH
It doesn’t take long for me to realise there’s something wrong.
My chest tightens with rising panic, something I haven’t felt since the fire. I slow to a crawl as I inch along the winding road that most of us mountain dwellers take to our cabins. The snow up here is thick, heavy, and coming straight off the mountain itself.
At first glance, it doesn’t seem like there’s anything out of place. The road is usually a lot busier in the summer and autumn months, since it’s also one of the few entry points up to the trails. But it’s rarely used in winter except by those of us living here. Some locals tend to take it when desperate, but even then, they’re a lot more cautious about the passage.
So, what the fuck is going on up here?
I slow as I approach the bend where my private road up to the cabin lies, something in my heart screaming at me to stay alert. Maybe it’s the saviour complex coming out in full; the firefighter in me still likes to play hero, even if there is no longer a hero living within me.
The truck halts as I slam my breaks. The white flurry of snow barely obscures the dark smoke rising from the body of a baby-blue truck wrapped around the base of a large pine.
My heart stops, and I’m moving before I realise what I’m doing. I would know that truck anywhere.
It doesn’t take me long to wrench the door open, finding her lying unconscious, already bruising from the impact. I pull a pocketknife from my pocket, slice through her seatbelt, and as gently as I can without a neck brace, I pull her out.
Sophia, sweet, gentle, Sophia. Cooper’s sister. The woman who nursed me back to life—who gave me a reason to live.
I feel myself spiralling into a panic, though it’s not as bad as the harsh reality slamming into me.
Reality that I need to save her. Protect her. Except we’re all but trapped up here.
Sophia makes a sound as I set her into my truck, but she doesn’t do anything else.
I’ll do anything to help her. Doesn’t matter how.
Least I can fucking do after she saved me.
“Fuck.”I slam my satellite phone down onto the dresser, listening to the radio static taunt me. It hits the corner before bouncing off the wood and onto the floor, the entire back of the device crunching with the impact.Fuck. I broke the damn thing, not like it was working properly to begin with.
Now, our only way of communication is dead. I scrub a hand over my face, the static suddenly cutting off.
When I glance over at the bed, I find her watching me, eyes glassy, the bruises beneath them too vivid a colour against her normally pink skin. Dark hair hangs limply around her face, a face that had been burned into my memory since the fire.
The nurse who gave me strength during the worst year of my life. The woman who sat with me when no one else could, who went with me initially to the larger hospital in Denver and stayed those first few days while I recovered in the burns unit.
My friend’s little sister, the brightest star in the storms of my mind, the only person whose smile couldpull me out of the fog my depression drags me through.
“You’re awake,” I say, stupidly, as her eyes—brown, like the wood of the cabin and the forest surrounding us—rake over me.
Her lips part, but she doesn’t speak. Instead, her eyes flutter shut, like she’s about to pass out again.
I move to her side immediately. I’m not a doctor, but I’d spent enough time with the paramedics at the firehouse to know I can’t let her fall asleep again, not when she could have a concussion. I don’t even know the extent of her injuries yet, other than her bruised nose, eyes, and swollen wrist. I need her awake—fuck, I need her to be okay.
“Sophia, I need you to stay with me,” I say as I kneel beside the bed, ignoring the pain in my side where the healed skin from my burns pull tight in protest. “I need you to tell me where the pain is.”
