Page 122 of Wish You Were Mine

We ducked back around the corner. Anyone inside may still be able to see us, but we’d be partially hidden by the trees. I raised the radio to my lips and reported our findings to Connor.

“I’ll touch base with Nate.” His electronic voice was startlingly loud in the silent forest. “He’ll send someone out.”

“We need to go,” Summer murmured. “This doesn’t feel right.”

I ended the conversation with Connor, and we hurried up the trail together to the Ute. She unlocked it with trembling hands and climbed in.

“Are you all right to drive?” I asked.

“Yeah.” A breath rattled between her lips. “Just give me a minute.”

I rounded the hood and got in. She hadn’t started the engine yet, so it was almost as cold in the car as it had been outside. Summer slotted the key into the ignition and turned it.

Nothing happened.

She tried again. The engine turned over once and then died.

Nerves gathered in the pit of my gut. As she tried a third time, her hands were shaking.

“It’s probably just the cold,” I said, despite my misgivings.

She huffed. “I’ve never had trouble getting it to start in the cold before.”

I pulled the radio back out of my pocket. “Connor,” I said into the device.

“Report,” he barked back.

“Summer’s Ute isn’t working. We’ll need a lift out of here.”

“The police will bring you back when they come around to check the building.”

“Thanks.”

I dropped the radio onto my lap and turned to Summer with a reassurance on the tip of my tongue. Unfortunately, at that moment, a gust of wind buffeted the Ute, throwing us both forward. I caught myself on the dashboard, wincing as a pain shot through one of my wrists.

“Are you okay?” I asked Summer, who’d hit her face against the steering wheel. Blood flowed over her lips and dripped off her chin. “Fuck.”

I searched the glove compartment for tissues but found only a wad of unused napkins. I passed them to her, and she balled them up and held them against her nostrils.

“Can I?” I asked, reaching for her.

“Yeah.”

I felt along the length of her nose with my thumb and forefinger as gently as I could. “I don’t think it’s broken. Hopefully the bleeding won’t last long.”

“I really don’t—” Another gust of wind tossed us forward, cutting her off mid-sentence. I clutched the seat and Summer braced herself, taking most of the impact with her shoulder.

“Buckle up,” I called over the shrieking wind. “This could get dangerous.”

Snow pelted the window, falling so thickly, I couldn’t even see the gap through the trees anymore. The world was a wall of white.

She struggled to pull the belt on while keeping the napkins in place, so I helped, looping the belt over her shoulder and beneath her arm. I clicked my own into place just in time for the Ute to rock forward again.

An ear-splitting crack almost stopped my heart. I met Summer’s eyes and together, we looked over our shoulders just as a massive tree thumped against the earth only a few feet behind the Ute.

Summer screamed.

My heart raced and I grabbed her hand. I stared in disbelief at the massive trunk. It was half the height of the vehicle and spanned the full width of the road.

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