Page 2 of The Wrong Drive

“Maybe just talk to him,” Catie says softly, probably hearing my sniffling now. “And then just come home. You can spend the holiday with us if you don’t want to face your family right now.”

“Yeah, okay,” I mumble, turning down a gravel road.

The destination will be on the right in twelve miles.

“I’m almost there though. I’ll let you go.” I sniffle again, and then clear my throat as Catie and I hang up. It won’t do my any good to be upset when I arrive—even if I’d love to crash my truck right into the side of his family’s fancy getaway cabin.

The radio continues to blare, and I reach forward and punch the knob, turning it off. I’m not in the mood to hear anythinganymore. I focus instead on the winding road, knowing good and well I’d be lost if it weren’t for Apple Maps. I’m tempted to pick up the phone and call Adam, confronting him right now about everything, but God knows what that might lead to—and thereissupposed to be snow moving in.

I need to just get there first.

I force long, deep breaths for the next ten minutes, and as I come to an intersection, I stop, taking in the desolation once again. I’m used to the middle of nowhere, but this is unfamiliar territory, and uneasiness slips up on me as the snow swirls around my truck.

It’ll be fine. I’ll just leave when the weather clears.

Unless he apologizes? Maybe Aaron got it wrong?

I let that thought run around my mind, just long enough for me to realize that the GPS is still stuck on the twelve miles to go.

Oh shit.

I furrow my brow at the screen, sweeping up my phone and checking service. It’s minimal, but I do have a bar. Biting down on the inside of my cheek, I unplug my phone from CarPlay and pull over to the side of the road. I fumble with it, exiting out of the directions and trying to reload them.

“What the hell,” I grumble under my breath as my phone screen freezes—and then won’t reload anything at all. I glance up, and as I do, my heart does a flipflop in my chest. It’sreallycoming now, and the visibility is suddenly minimal at best. I flip on my wipers as I try once more with my phone, growing more desperate.

Come on. I don’t want to have to call Adam.

But with my attempts working to no avail, I pull up my boyfriend’s phone number. I hit the call button and prepare myself for what’s to come.

“Hey babe, are you almost here?” His tone is painfully jovial, and I wish I could reach through the phone and punch him right in the freaking face.

“Yeah, I was—Iam,” I say, staving off the emotions with my current predicament. “I’m only like fifteen minutes away, but my GPS isn’t working for whatever reason.”

He chuckles. “Not surprised. The service is hit and miss out here. Where are you?”

“Uh, great question,” I sigh, pushing my hair out of my face again. “I made a turn onto a gravel road, and then it said I had twelve miles to go—I didn’t get the road name or anything.”

“Okay, so just clock it on your mileage. The gate is on the right-hand side of the road, and I think I left it open since it’s snowing. But you need to hurry. The weather is going to shit—and quick.”

I shift my half-ton truck into drive again and continue onward, grimacing as I break the news. “I’m honestly not sure how far past that point I’ve gone. I don’t know if I can rely on the mileage.”

He groans. “So you have no idea at all? What’s the last road you passed?”

I cringe. “…I don’t know.”

“Figures. So… Um, well,” he pauses. “If you’re on the county road, you should just continue west. Maybe start counting your miles now. The layout is kind of weird out here. There’s not a road every mile. When you get to the next intersection, tell me the road number, and I can help you get here.”

“Okay. It’s really snowing,” I say, biting down on my lip nervously as the wind whips around my truck.

“You’ll be fine,” he grunts with little empathy. “Worst case scenario put it in four-wheel drive and keep going. You’re close enough to make it.”

“Yeah.” I swallow the nerves pummeling me as the weather seemingly worsens with every passing second. I drive at a steady speed, ignoring the unnerving crunch of the snow under my tires. I can drive in mud or a downpour of rain, but snow and ice are not my forte. I’m from Oklahoma for heaven’s sake. It doesn’t snow all that much, and when it does… I just stay the heck home.

“Have you passed anymore roads?” Adam’s voice chimes in my ear.

“No,” I answer him flatly. “Though, I’m not sure I could even read the sign if I did.”

“You’re going to have to try and read it, Em.”

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