“Please,” I said to whoever might be listening—God, the universe, the Ghost of fucking Christmas Present. “Please let me find her. Please let me get there in time.”
The words disappeared into the white void outside, swallowed by a storm that didn’t care about second chances or broken hearts or fathers who’d already buried one person they loved.
But I kept driving anyway, searching for a white SUV in a sea of blinding white snow, for the woman I’d let go because I thought it would save her.
Some part of me would always be looking for her, ready to drive into the storm of the century if she needed me. We’d filed papers, divided assets, moved to different states, but we’d never really figured out how to stop loving each other.
At least I hadn’t.
The wipers groaned against the ice, and I leaned forward, peering through the small, clear patch I’d scraped, looking for any sign of her.
Then, through the white, a flash of twisted metal where the guardrail should have been.
My heart stopped.
My brain, numbed by an hour of staring into nothing, almost dismissed it as another phantom—like the dozen false alarms before. I hit the brakes harder than I meant to, sliding sideways before the tires found purchase against the ice-covered asphalt.
And there, less than ten feet from where I stopped, sat a white SUV with New York plates.
It had gone through the guardrail at an angle, taking out twenty feet of metal barrier before being stopped by a massive pine tree. The front end was accordioned, steam still rising from the exposed engine block.
How long had she been here? Minutes? Hours?
“No, no, no—” The words ripped from my throat as I threw myself from the vehicle, not even bothering to shut off the engine. My boots slid on the ice, nearly sending me down, but I caught myself against the guardrail—what was left of it. The wind drove icy snow into my face, and I had to shield my eyes just to see where I was going.
The driver’s side door of the SUV was jammed from the impact, the frame bent inward. The window was still intact, but a layer of ice made it impossible to see if she was still inside. My gut told me she was.
“Kelsey!” I yanked on the door handle. Nothing. Not even a budge. “Kels, can you hear me?”
I braced my foot against the back door and pulled harder, using all my weight. The metal groaned but held. My hands were beyond numb, gloved fingers slipping on the ice-covered handle.
“Come on, you piece of shit.” I repositioned, got both hands on the handle, and pulled with everything I had. Something in my shoulder popped—an old rodeo injury roaring back to life, but adrenaline had taken over, and I wouldn’t stop until I got it open.
The door shrieked as it gave way, opening maybe eighteen inches before catching on the bent frame. It was enough.
Inside, the deployed airbags hung limp like deflated ghosts. I shoved them aside, my stomach turning at the sight of Kelsey’s body slumped sideways, her seatbelt the only thing keeping her upright.
Blood. So much blood, I couldn’t tell where it was coming from. It covered her face, matted her hair, soaked through her pale pink sweater.
“Kels?” My voice broke on her name. I squeezed through the gap, contorting myself to fit, and reached for her with shaking hands. “Baby—open your eyes.”
She groaned, the most beautiful sound I’d ever heard. Her lashes fluttered, the deep green eyes I’d fallen in love with at seventeen finding mine through the haze of pain and confusion.
“Teddy?” she whispered, her ice-cold fingers brushing against my wrist as I checked her pulse. “I—I crashed.”
“Yeah, baby. I can see that.” My hands moved over her, trying to find the source of the blood.
“Pretty sure I totaled it,” she mumbled, her voice thick and slurred. “Never gonna let me rent a car again. Blacklisted. Is that a thing?”
A laugh that was half-sob escaped my throat. She was trying to joke. Even now, bleeding and hypothermic, she was trying to deflect with humor.
“That’s what insurance is for.” My hands shook as I brushed her hair back, blood smearing across my palm. A gash near her hairline was still bleeding freely, but head wounds always bled like a bitch. What worried me more was how cold she was, her lips tinged blue, body shaking.
The windshield had a spider web of cracks I hadn’t noticed before, and a gap at the top where it had separated from the frame. Snow was drifting in, already accumulating on the dashboard. The engine was dead, so there was no heat.
How long had she been sitting in the cold?
“Baby, look at me.” My voice cracked, and I had to swallow hard before continuing, “I need you to stay awake, okay? Stay with me.”
