The lug nuts were stubborn, requiring more force than she expected. Cold seeped into her hands, stiffening her fingers as she worked, but she didn’t stop.
“Need some help with that?”
The voice came from behind her, calm and quiet enough that she didn’t startle. Hannah turned, wrench still in hand, to see a man standing a few feet away. He must have come around the bend in the road, though she hadn’t heard any footsteps or a vehicle approaching. Tall and broad-shouldered, he carried a stillness that seemed to echo the mountain itself. Rain dampened his dark hair, but he didn’t appear bothered by it.
“I’ve got a flat,” she said, which was obvious. “I can manage.”Probably.
He nodded, not stepping any closer. “I’m sure you can. But this rain isn’t going to ease up anytime soon, and it looked like those lug nuts were giving you some trouble. They can be stubborn, especially in the wet.” He gestured lightly toward the wrench. “I’m Caleb Thornberg. I live nearby. I could help if you’d like.”
Hannah considered the offer. And the man making it.
She wasn’t used to help being offered without expectation.
Life rarely offers you a free lunch, one of her foster moms once warned her. Hannah had found those words to be mostly true.
She glanced back at the tire, then toward the stretch of road ahead. If she turned him down and couldn’t get the wheel loose, she might be stranded longer than planned. And he was right, the rain didn’t look like it was going to ease, and in a couple of hours it would start getting dark.
When she looked back at Caleb, he was still waiting. No impatience. No pressure. Just rain dripping from the brim of his jacket as he stood there, giving her space to decide.
It came down to logistics. She could keep working alone in the cold and rain, or accept help that would make the job quicker.
Hannah exhaled slowly.
“Hannah Rigby,” she replied, then held out the wrench. “I got three of them loose, but that last one’s being stubborn.”
He took the wrench without comment, kneeling beside the tire. His hands were large but moved with precision, applying steady pressure until the final lug nut gave way. Most men would have taken over the entire job, but Caleb simply loosened the nut and then stepped back, returning the wrench to her.
“Thanks,” she said, taking the wrench back.
She finished loosening the last nut, then braced herself and pulled the wheel free. The tire came off with a thud. It was heavier than it looked, but she managed to set it aside. Rain soaked into the knees of her jeans as she maneuvered the spare into place, lining up the bolts by feel.
Caleb stayed close enough to help but didn’t take over as if he trusted she could cope. When the wheel slipped slightly, he steadied it with one hand, holding it in position while she tightened the first lug nut.
“Got it?” he asked.
“Yeah,” she said. “Thanks.”
They slipped into natural coordination after that, tightening the nuts in sequence, lowering the jack inch by careful inch. When the car settled back onto solid ground, Hannah tightened the bolts fully, giving it a firm tug to check that it was secure.
Only then did she straighten, rolling her shoulders and wiping rain from her face.
Caleb nodded, glancing along the curve of the road disappearing into the mist. “The road gets trickier up ahead. Where are you headed?”
“Slateford,” Hannah replied. “I’m starting a new job.”
“You’re pretty far off course for Slateford,” he observed, his tone neutral, almost conversational. “And this weather’s supposed to get worse. There’s a garage in Bear Creek... about fifteen minutes from here. They’d be able to take a proper look at your car. Check the tire and get you a replacement spare.”
Hannah thought this over as she packed everything back into the trunk, grateful when Caleb lifted the damaged tire for her. It made sense to go and get the car checked. But she was already behind schedule...
Safety first.
Another of her life lessons. Because when you were alone in this world, there was no one to call for backup. No mom or dad on the other end of the phone to come rescue you or tell you what to do.
She straightened slowly, her hand resting on the edge of the trunk. Her fingers slid along the metal, the familiar weight and shape grounding her as she studied the wheel. She knew this car intimately—the way it sounded when it idled, the slight pull on steep hills, the clutch that caught just a fraction earlier than it should.
Something was off. Not dramatic. Not obvious. But wrong all the same.
“It doesn’t feel right,” she said, more to herself than to him. “The angle’s wrong. Like it’s sitting crooked.”
