Page 12 of One Pucking Wish

He looks up from his phone with what can only be described as a grimace. “Um, I’m not taking any more rides today, ma’am. The roads are too bad. Plus, my girlfriend is waiting for me.”

“Please?”

“Aren’t you leaving? Why do you want to go back?”

“I have to take care of a problem at the bar. They’re leaving.” I motion toward the plane. “And I’m going to be stuck here if you don’t. Please, Julien? I promise to leave you an amazing tip.”

“Fine. Get in.” He tightens his grasp on the steering wheel.

“Thank you,” I say as I slide into the back seat. “You’re the best.”

I internally take back that last sentiment as soon as he starts driving. His car is fishtailing all over the tarmac. It’s only been a couple of minutes since I last left this car, but it feels like the snowfall has tripled in that short amount of time. “Julien, are we going to be able to make it?” I ask, knowing that his answer holds no bearing because regardless of what he says, he’s my only option.

“Oh yeah. Piece of cake.” He nods as he takes a corner, and the car thumps against something hard, sending me flying in my seat. At least this time, I’m pretty sure it was the curb.

Any annoyance I have toward the weather, Julien’s driving ability, or my present situation transforms into anger for Gunner freaking Dreven. After all, this is his fault—all of it.

As Julien drives toward town, the feeling that I’m going to die here in Vancouver, Canada, becomes stronger. I should be flying back to Michigan, where my condo and warm bed await. Instead, I’m practically off-roading through this snowstorm in a vehicle that has no right to be driving in such weather on my way to clean up the mess of an adult hothead. Truthfully, if it wasn’t my sole job to keep the team on the good side of the press, I’d let Gunner rot in a Canadian jail cell.

“Just a couple more kilometers, ma’am,” Julien calls back, wearing an easy smile that certainly doesn’t befit the situation.

His reassurance does little to ease my nerves. The ride back to the bar seems twice as long as the ride to the plane. I press my hands to the back of the seat in front of me in an attempt to keep steady as we bounce and swerve over what I can only hope is the road. I stare at a singular piece of lint on my skirt, focusing on the cream-colored speck in an effort to block out the weather outside. Outside these car windows is nothing but a furious flurry of snow. Raging white snowflakes and a sea of nothingness beyond are all that can be seen. I have no idea how Julien keeps the car on the road, and I’ve realized falling into a state of total avoidance is my best bet.

Looking out the windows made me feel as if I were trapped inside a violent snow globe being shook by a crazy person. It caused my heart to beat at a level that made me feel as if I were having a heart attack despite knowing it was anxiety. Breathing deeply and focusing on the lint while ignoring the outside world is my survival tactic at this point.

Julien starts shouting, and my body presses against my seat belt, momentum wanting to whip me to the side as the car speeds across the earth in a way I know the driver is not controlling. They say the moment before you die moves in slow motion, and visions of your life flash before your eyes. For me, this isn’t entirely true. Time slows, and I’m very aware we’re about to crash. Yet no nostalgic visions of my life surface. I expect a few of the good memories I had with my mother to come to mind, but they don’t. At the very least, I should be thinking about Tucker—the love of my life—and some of the beautiful times we shared…but nope. Good times in college? Friendships? The taste of a pumpkin spiced latte? Anything?

No.

I’m about to die, and all I can think about is Gunner and how I’m never going to get the chance to tell him how much I hate him. His stupid ass is the reason I’m in this predicament, and I can’t even yell at him about it. Not only is he going to be the cause of my death but images of him have stolen the highlight reel of my life that’s supposed to play. He can’t be my last thought. The summation of my life is so much more than keeping him in line. Isn’t it? While rage-inducing, thoughts of Gunner Dreven are also a reminder in my final moments that I failed. I couldn’t keep him in check.

A thousand questions and doubts surface. Maybe there is no beautifully touching string of memories because my life wasn’t beautiful or touching. It was cold and routine. I tried so hard to be successful and not be anything like my mother, and now, all I have to show for my life is a failed attempt at babysitting a grown-ass man.

My entire body clenches, waiting for impact, and Julien makes a sound resembling a rooster’s cock-a-doodle-doo. I’m lifted off my seat, the belt pressing against my thighs before I fall back and hit the side door with a thud.

And then…we’re still.

I breathe in deeply, waiting for more. But nothing comes.

Slowly, my muscles unclench, and I open my eyes. Hesitantly, I look out the window. The furious snow globe effect is still in full force, but I’m no longer moving.

“We’re alive?” The question leaves my mouth.

Julien laughs. “Of course we’re alive. We just slid into a ditch. You’re a dramatic one, eh?”

We slid into a ditch? I replay the motions of the last few seconds, and that reality computes. “We’re in a ditch?”

“Yeah.” Julien scoffs. “We’re in a ditch. Slid right off the road. It was to be expected really.”

“What?”

“Have you looked out the window, ma’am? These aren’t the best driving conditions. Just lucky we made it this far. No worries. We’ll just walk the rest of the way.”

“I have to walk the rest of the way?” I repeat his statement. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Not at all. It’s not that far. In fact, this was a good place to land. My girlfriend’s house is a block behind us, and the bar is a couple of blocks in front. Not a problem.” Julien zips up his coat and removes his keys from the ignition.

My toes move inside my heels, a reminder that walking through this storm in my current footwear is the definition of a problem.

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