Page 1 of Close to My Heart

1

SUTTON

“Where are you?” Wes’s concerned voice filled my car.

The ice pelted the windshield. My fingers gripped the steering wheel so hard, my knuckles ached. I’d turned off the radio a while ago, not wanting to be distracted.

The road to my best friend Wes Calloway’s house was slick, but there was nowhere else I wanted to be.

The road was empty because most intelligent people were home with their families on Thanksgiving night or hadn’t ventured out.

But I’d needed to see Wes. To hear him say that my grandmother’s ultimatum was crazy, and I shouldn’t entertain it. I needed his comforting presence tonight more than ever.

Over the years, the Calloways’ home had become a respite for me after the holiday meals with my family.

Dinner with my family tended to send me into a tailspin. Wes and his family grounded me, bringing me back to the present.

I felt safe at the Calloways, and I needed that warmth wrapped around me like a blanket on a night like tonight. I couldn’t go back to my empty house. Not after the bomb Grandma had dropped at dinner.

“Sutton. Are you still with me?” Wes barked over the speakers.

“I’m on my way to you.” My mouth was so dry, but I didn’t dare lift my hand from the wheel to drink from the water bottle sitting in the cup holder.

“It’s freezing rain. The roads are slick.” As a Department of Natural Resources police officer, Wes had access to the same radio updates as his police officer brother Teddy, who was sure to be with him at dinner tonight.

“I know.” I didn’t like the tremor in my voice. I prided myself on being strong.

“You should turn around and go home. It’s not safe.”

Wes was straitlaced, always seeing things in black-and-white. Safe or dangerous. Always my port in the storm.

From the moment we met under the slide on our school’s playground, we’d been friends. He was always there to protect me from a bully or help me when I fell on the playground. And I needed him now.

I flexed my fingers, not letting go of the wheel. “I’m almost there. There’s no point in turning around now.”

“I’ll come get you.” Wes’s voice was hard and didn’t leave any room for argument.

“You shouldn’t be out in this,” I said, realizing how ridiculous I sounded.

“And you should?” Wes’s tone was incredulous.

I kept my eyes glued to the road in front of me while I willed my small car to say on the road. Every time it slid to the side, I pulled it back by sheer will. But I wasn’t sure how much longer I could stay in control

It felt a little like dinner with my family. The tighter I held on, the more out of control I felt.

Wes growled over the line. He was overprotective on a good day. But when someone he loved was in danger, he lost his cool.

“I’m okay,” I said gently, even as the sweat beading on my forehead told me a different story. “It helps to have your voice on the line.”

“If you slide, steer into it, don’t slam on the brakes.”

“Wes. You’ve told me this before.” And it was the mantra that had gotten me through the last few torturous miles.

“It’s different when you’re experiencing it.” The line fell silent, and I wondered if he was running his hand through his hair or gripping the back of his neck. “I’m coming to get you.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“How far out are you?” His voice was tight.

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