The snow is already piling up outside, wind howling like it’s got teeth.
The road down the mountain is narrow and winding, half-plowed at best.
Fifteen minutes in good conditions.
This is not that.
I don’t care.
I slam the truck door and fire up the engine, tires already fighting for traction. As I pull onto the road, I punch in her number—the one she wrote on her application.
The one I saved to my cell without letting myself think too hard about why.
It doesn’t connect.
No ring. No voicemail. Nothing.
My grip tightens on the steering wheel, knuckles whitening as the wind rocks the truck.
My heart is pounding hard enough to feel in my throat, breath coming sharp and fast.
Hold on, Baby Girl.
I’m coming.
CHAPTER 18
WILLOW
Darkness slams down hard and absolute after that initialpop.
I know something is wrong.
I finish rinsing quickly, heart thudding, then grab my phone and use the flashlight to guide myself out of the shower. It’s still warm inside the cabin for now, but I know that won’t last.
I need to move. Fast.
I dry off, pull on clothes with numb fingers.
Thick tights under my pajama sweatpants.
A thermal.
A sweatshirt.
My windbreaker over everything.
I twist my damp hair into a towel and dry it best I can. Then I braid it quickly, fingers clumsy but practiced.
I hesitate, phone in hand.
Call someone? Or handle it myself?
I decide on the latter.
I can’t ask someone to come out in a storm just because the generator went down.
I pull on a stocking cap with the McCrae logo stitched on the front.
