Emma's expression is sympathetic as she lowers her phone. "Jake says at least a week, probably more. Every plumber in the county will be slammed with emergencies."
"But..." I press my fingers to my temples. My truck's still broken down near his cabin, all my belongings locked inside. No apartment, no vehicle, no plan. "Where am I supposed to stay?"
"Hotel's full with the ski crowd," Emma says. "I'd offer my place, but my cousin's in town with her twins..."
"She'll stay with me."
Dean's words land like thunder in the wet silence. I turn to find him watching me, expression unreadable.
"Dean..." Emma's warning tone makes him straighten.
"Got a perfectly good guest cabin. Already know she doesn't snore." His attempt at humor falls flat as our eyes meet. "Unless you'd rather find somewhere else?"
Somewhere else. In a town where I don't know anyone. Where I just arrived in his truck, wearing his clothes, trailing scandal like perfume.
"You're sure?"
He nods once. Decisive. Final.
"First things first," Emma says, her grin entirely too knowing. "Let's call Miller's Towing for your truck, get those boxes somewhere dry. Jake's got some storage units behind the real estate office."
"I can handle the tow," Dean says. "Got a friend at the garage who owes me a favor."
I think about my carefully packed life, sitting in my broken-down truck on a mountain road. About spending another night inDean's guest cabin, this time on purpose. About small towns and scandals and fresh starts that look nothing like I planned.
"One week," I say, more to myself than them. "I can handle one week."
Emma's laugh suggests she knows better. "Honey, in Wylde Mountain? A lot can happen in a week."
The way Dean's watching me, I'm starting to believe her.
"I'll make the calls," Dean says, already pulling out his phone. He steps away, voice low as he arranges things with whoever owes him that favor.
Emma helps me mop up what water we can reach, her vintage dress somehow staying pristine even as she wrings out towels. "Storage unit's yours as long as you need it. Jake keeps a few empty for emergencies."
"Does this town have emergencies often?"
"Honey, we're at the foot of a mountain. Everything's an emergency or nothing is." She winks. "You'll learn."
Dean returns, keys jingling. "Miller's sending his son out for the truck now. He'll meet us there, tow it to Pete's garage. Pete says he can look at it tomorrow morning."
The efficiency of small-town connections is both comforting and unnerving.
We pile into Dean's truck again, retracing our path up the mountain. The morning sun turns everything into crystal, ice still clinging to trees despite the rising temperature. It should be beautiful. Instead, all I can think about is how quickly life can freeze and shatter.
My truck sits exactly where we left it, looking forlorn against the pristine snow. A blue tow truck is already pulling up, a gangly teenager jumping out.
"Mr. McKnight," he nods, all business despite his age. "This the one?"
While they handle the logistics, I unlock my truck and start gathering the essentials I'll need. Clothes. Toiletries. Laptop. The manuscript I've been pretending not to work on.
"Need help?" Dean appears at my elbow, making me jump.
"I've got it." But my voice wavers as I look at the boxes. My whole life, packed up and categorized. "Actually... maybe with the heavy ones?"
We work in silence, transferring boxes from my truck to his. The tow truck driver – Jack, according to his cheerful chatter – hooks up my vehicle with practiced ease.
"Dad's place is the blue building behind the hardware store," he tells me, handing over a card. "We’re the only truck rental place in town, we were looking for you to arrive yesterday." He glances at Dean. “But no charge for the tow or extra night of course. See ya’ around!”
