“I don’t know, Dad.” She looks like she’s going to cry. “I’m sorry.”
Holt wraps an arm around her shoulders and pulls her tight. “Twenty minutes,” he says. “Thirty tops.”
Twenty minutes.
In this storm. In that ridiculous SUV she drives.
Fuck.
My chest tightens. “I did this,” I mutter more to myself than anyone else, turning for the door.
“Dad! You can’t go out there.”
She reaches for me, but Holt stops her.
He knows.
I don’t have any other choice.
I have to go after the woman I love.
Before I lose her for real.
Lilly
The tires spin searching for grip that isn’t there.
I knew the moment I pulled out onto the mountain road that it was a bad idea.
But staying was a worse one.
I need to get away. The only way I’m going to get through this is by putting as much space between myself and Luke as possible. I need to get off the mountain.
The faster the better.
Not that I’m moving fast.
Not in these conditions.
I can barely see past my hood. It’s like the entire mountain has been swallowed by the storm.
Snow is blowing sideways across the windshield, the wipers working overtime are falling behind, leaving streaks of ice that distort what little I can actually see.
I lean forward over the wheel, squinting into the white, my hands aching from the death grip I have on the wheel.
I shouldn’t be out here. This is crazy.
Every instinct I have is screaming at me to stop, turn around, and go back to the safety of Tessa and Holt’s cabin.
But I can’t bring myself to do it. Not after the way Luke looked at me and told me to leave as if I were nothing.
And the hushed voices of my friends talking about the whole thing, like they understand something I don’t.
The reminder of it all tightens the knot in my chest until it’s hard to breathe, but I push through it and force my attention on the road.
I only travelled down to town with Luke a few times over the last few weeks, and I don’t know the road the way I’d like, but it feels like I must be getting close to the final turn that leads out to the main road. From there, I can go to the pub and wait out the worst of the weather.
“Just keep going,” I whisper. “You can do this.”
