Page 3 of The Wrong Drive

“I know,” I snap back at him. “I will.”

“You’ll be fine,” he hums with an air of annoyance. “Just keep driving and take a few deep breaths. It’s going to take a little bit for the roads to get unmanageable, and I have plenty of supplies here for us to wait out the blizzard.”

“Blizzard?” I echo him, surprised. “I thought you said it was just supposed to just snow.”

“Yeah, it’s Colorado, honey. Just drive.”

Keeping Adam on the line, I grit my teeth as press down on the accelerator. As I do, the back end of the truck spins out, and my heart jumps to my throat.Slow and steady wins the race.My palms begin to sweat, and I reach forward and turn down the heat in the cab.

At least the crappy weather is a distraction from the conversation we’re going to have when I get there.

“See anything?” he asks again.

I squint into the snow. “Um, it looks like…” I catch sight of what looks like a side road off to my left, but it’s nearly impossible to read the sign. Still, I squint, attempting to read the blur. “Ugh… Thirty-six, maybe?”

He’s silent for a second. “Hang on.”

I swallow hard. “Please tell me you know where I am.”

He huffs. “Of course, I do. I’m just figuring how much further you have to go. I don’t usually come in that way. I take the highway all the way to the turn off.”

“Why did my GPS bring me this way?” I think aloud, my voice tinged with my inner panic.

“It’s probably shorter, but the road sucks through there. It’s fine though, you only have about a mile and half to go. Start paying attention to the dash.”

“Right,” I glance down and then reset my trip to make sure I don’t miscount. “Got it. What’s the entrance look like again?”

“Black gate on the right side of the road. You can’t see the cabin from the road or entrance. It’s a fairly long drive, but you should be able to make it. If not, I’ll come get you.”

“Yeah, I should’ve left earlier,” I mutter as I watch the tenths of a mile tick by. “I should’ve just have come with you.”

“You’re the one who had the writing workshop, Em.”

I roll my eyes. “And you’re the one who wouldn’t wait for me.”

“Really?” he spouts off in a condescending tone, one that’s become a regular occurrence. “I told you I’d wait, and you said not to worry about it. I can’t read your fucking mind. I don’t have superpowers.”

“Yeah, sorry.” I swallow the hurt and notice as my trip hits 1.2 miles. “I should be getting close.”

“Great.”

I take a deep breath, and to my right, I see an entrance with a large black metal gate—but my heart sinks. “I thought you said the gate was open.”

He’s silent. “Is it a black gate?”

“Yeah, surrounded by trees,” I note through the whipping snow.

He sighs. “I may have shut it last night when I got in. It’s just out of habit. My parents don’t like it left open. You never know who might drive up. The isolation out here attracts strange people sometimes.”

My shoulders slump as I slow down and turn into the entrance. “I’ll open it then.” Snow is already creating drifts and I grab my parka from the passenger seat, psyching myself up for the brutal cold. I wriggle into it and leave the phone on the console as I sling the door open.

The wind slaps me across the face as it catches my door. “Holy crap,” I groan, forcing it closed before trudging to the gate. With freezing hands, I fumble with the dummy locked lock. I unwrap the chain, hanging it off to the side. I slide the bolt style bar, and push against the metal pickets to swing the gate inward. It gives with a wretched squeal, and I shove it open enough for my truck to fit through.

My feet are already freezing, and the bottom of my jeans are wet from the snow. I jog back to my truck and climb in, shaking off the cold.Forget this. Maybe Idon’tlike the snow.

I smash the gas as I pick up the phone. “I’ll be there in a second.”

“Sorry I didn’t open it. But I swore it was open.” His tone actually contains some remorse, and while it’s not a lot, it brings a little relief.

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