Page 59 of My eX-MAS Emergency

“Please go check on Aunt Calista. You know how crappy her car is. What if she got stuck somewhere? Or what if she was in an accident?”

Tristan was sick, thinking of the last scenario. “I’ll call the police chief to see if there have been any accidents reported.” The chief was a longtime patron of the store, and a friend.

“Okay,” she whined.

“Just get ready for school and I’ll be there as soon as I can.” It surprised him they hadn’t canceled school yet. With students able to attend school online now, they usually opted for that route when it snowed more than a few inches. “And, Quinn, I’m sure Calista’s fine,” he said, trying to make himself feel better too.

“Call me right back,” she begged.

“I will.” He hung up and immediately dialed Craig, the police chief.

“This is Craig,” a deep baritone voice answered.

“Hey, man, this is Tristan.”

“Tristan, what’s up? You still sore that I beat you in our last round of golf?”

It still ate at him, but that wasn’t important now. “Come this spring, we’ll have a rematch.”

Craig chuckled.

“Listen, I need a favor. My niece is worried about her aunt, Dr. Monroe.”

“Ah. Your ex.”

“Yes,” Tristan tried not to sound annoyed. The town had a long memory. Especially the police department.

“What has she done now?” he teased.

Tristan stretched his neck from side to side, trying to maintain his composure. “Nothing,” he gritted out. “She’s not answering her phone and she should have been home by now. I’m just wondering if there have been any accidents reported near the hospital or in the area.”

“With the snow, I’m sure there have been, but I’ll check for you. What kind of car does she drive?”

“Silver Honda Civic. Probably ten years old.”

“All right. I’ll see what I can find out.”

“Thanks, man.” Tristan hung up and finished dressing. He wasn’t going to wait around to hear from Craig. All he could think about was finding Calista. Even though he knew there was probably a rational explanation for why she wasn’t answering her phone that didn’t include her lying hurt in a ditch. She was more than likely still at the hospital. If that was the case, he would offer to take her home. She shouldn’t be driving her car in this weather. He doubted she could even make it up Stella’s drive.

On his way into town, Craig called to inform him no one had reported any accidents involving a Honda Civic. It made Tristan feel partially better. But what if she really was hurt and lying in a ditch somewhere? The thought made his throat constrict. So many regrets ran through his mind. If she was all right, he decided he was going to take her in his arms and show her exactly what she meant to him. He couldn’t stand the idea that he may never get to hold her or kiss her again.

The roads were a mess, snow packed and icy. Even with his truck in four-wheel drive, he had to go slow. Each minute that ticked by was agonizing. He tried calling Calista several times, to no avail. Each call when straight to voice mail.

Where the hell is she? The snow fell furiously, giving his windshield wipers—as well as his heart—a workout. It seemed to take hours to get to the hospital. Thankfully, Quinn’s school had decided to take everything online because of the weather. At this point, he didn’t care if he made it into the office today. All that mattered was finding Calista.

He swallowed hard when he carefully turned into the hospital parking lot. The snow was coming down so hard now; it covered most of the cars in the employee section of the lot. Just as he was getting ready to stop and run into the hospital, he saw Calista walking out, her head down with her hair blowing in the wind, an annoyed expression on her beautiful face.

Tristan had never been so happy to see someone in his life. He pulled over to the curb, put his truck in park, and jumped out. He did his best to run to her against the snow and wind. “Calista,” he shouted.

She looked up and squinted through the snow. “Tristan?”

He lunged for her and pulled her to him, the snow bathing them in white. He kissed her head and breathed several sighs of relief.

“What are you doing here? Is Quinn okay?” she asked, panicked.

“She’s fine.” He held her tighter. “We were worried about you. You were late and didn’t answer your phone.”

“It was a crazy night and I forgot to plug my phone in and the battery died,” she responded, muffled against his chest before pushing him away and wildly looking around. “You shouldn’t be here.”

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