“Good, now let go of the rope and let yourselflovehim. If that’s where you’re headed, of course.”
I take a shaky breath. “It is,” I rasp.
“Good, I can’t wait to meet him.”
I huff. “He knows Auntie and Uncle.”
“I figured. Paxton isn’t that big,” she says.
I laugh. “No, it really isn’t.”
“Are you going to be okay?”
She’s right. Maybe I need to let go of the rope.
“Yeah, Mom, I think I’m going to be alright.”
After we hang up, I finish giving my extra flowers water, count the till, and grab my stuff to go home. I go out the back, kicking the door shut, and a crack of thunder startles me, and I drop my keys. The sun is setting, and I can see the clouds rolling in. We haven’t had a huge summer storm here yet, but I can smell it in the air. This is going to be a bad one.
Hurrying to my car around the corner, another crack of thunder explodes, and as if God unzipped the sky, a deluge of rain pours down, soaking me to the bone.Of course.
I get to my car soaking wet, and it’s raining so hard I can hardly see, so I sit for a minute, hoping it calms down long enough for me to get home. While I sit there, I wonder if I should call Cooper and tell him the news.
“I need to make a decision.” I tell myself. But I have to admit, I’m struggling to let go of the rope.
The rain finally lets up, and I head home. The sky is dark, and it’s only late afternoon.
As I head out of town, the rain picks up again, lightning bursts in front of me, and thunder cracks. The high winds come out of nowhere, whipping against the car. I turn the music down so I can see better, and my hands tighten over my steering wheel, trying to keep my car on the road.
I’m driving slowly, but a couple of trucks blow past me as if we’re not trying to get through a torrential downpour that I’m beginning to think could be a tornado, but I didn’t hear the sirens in town.
It’s hard to see, but I’m a couple of miles from home, so I push it a little harder, trying to get to my driveway.
Then suddenly headlights aren’t to my left. They’re right in front of me. A cross between disbelief and panic flood through me, and survival instinct kicks in. I veer off the side of the road even though I can’t see it, and my tire dips. I scream feeling the whole car dip into the ditch on the side of the road, and all I can do is brace for impact.
The car crashes against the side of the ditch and stops. Adrenaline pumps through my veins as I heave for air, and gradually open my eyes. The car hit something, but not hard enough to deploy the airbags.
I'm okay, it’s okay.
The seatbelt bites into my chest, and I realize I’m leaning forward because the car is at an angle. But the problem is, I don’t know what’s in front of me. It could be the ditch I’ve driven past, or it could be the drop into the ravine. Rain pelts on my car, and I take a deep breath, listening to the rhythmic sound of it to calm myself down.
My chest hurts, my heart is pounding so hard, and the seatbelt burns against me. I’m not normally a quick to panic kind of person, but I’m doing everything I can not to.
“Breathe, Mae. Think, breathe.” I keep repeating to myself.
I don’t know who to call except the Hayes.
Leaning across the seat, still belted in, I reach down to the floorboards to get my phone. A whimper bursts from me as the belt digs and my phone is just out of reach. I grit my teeth and push a little harder, barely grabbing it with the tips of my fingers, and I feel the car move a bit. I scream holding the phone tightly in my hand.
“Okay, okay, you’re okay.”
I find Cooper’s number and dial it.
“Hey, stubborn,” he says, and my heart calms with the sound of his voice.
“I need your help,” I say, as calmly as I can, brushing over the fact my voice cracked and I know he heard it.
“What’s wrong? Where are you?” he asks.
