Page 8 of The Wrong Drive

A tear slips down her cheek again. I recoil at the sight. She might be better off dead. I run my tongue over my bottom lip, as Gunner inches closer to her, his tail wagging with unease…orsomething else?

“No,” I warn him, and he stops a foot or so from her.

“I’m really sorry for bothering you.” Her voice breaks, and she looks away from me. “It’s been such a shitty day. I can maybe try to get unstuck, if you’ll just let me?—”

I shake my head, cutting her off from speaking.“No.”

“Okay, well…” She lets out a dry, bitter laugh. “Will you justdowhatever you’re going to? Because the way I see it, I’ll either die by that .308 you have, or I’ll die in the elements.”

“So, you’re not a total idiot,” I mumble under my breath.

“What?” Her voice is abrasive to my ears. I don’t like it. I don’t think I like her.

My rifle is still pointed at her chest. I could just shut her up indefinitely, but something about her grinds my instincts to a halt. I know if I pull the trigger, I might spend days, if not weeks, unable to shake her cold, wounded expression. It’s happened before.

I don’t want it to happen again.

Fuck, what a dilemma.

She takes an audible breath, and then pushes off the tree. The movement has me in motion before I even realize what I’m doing. She lets out a cry as she falls to the ground face first, the butt of my rifle sending her there.

Okay. Temporary fix for now.

I use my boot to roll her over, and now that she’s unconscious, Ireallysee her. She’s at peace momentarily, and I’m sure if she knew who I was, she’d be wishing I’d extend that peace right into eternity.

“What should we do?” I turn to Gunner, who shivers at a blast of sharp wind. I feel nothing in the cold. I went numb a long,longtime ago, and maybe a stronger man would’ve ended it before it ever went this far—but something keeps me here.

Maybe I just enjoy the misery.

A migraine thumps in my skull, and I sling my rifle back over my shoulder. Bending over, I scoop the woman into my arms. The closeness of her body is strangely warm against mine, even with the outerwear between us… But then again, maybe it’s the fact I haven’t had a living person this close to me in almost a decade.

I swallow the feelings that follow that reminder. I keep my chin up as I trudge through the deepening snow. I pushed it staying out here this long with her. If someone is really on their way, they won’t make it.

But they might call in search and rescue. I’ll have to keep an eye out.

As I carry her back toward the cabin, I glance over my shoulder. I’ve never had someone show up here searching for anyone. I’m so far off the beaten path, I rarely have trespassers.

“Come on, Gunner,” I call back to my dog. “We need to get her settled and then we’ll pay the truck one last visit.” I have no idea what I’m supposed to do with her—or whatgetting her settledreally means. I’ve never taken someone home before.

My eyes cast downward on her face again. She’s kind of pretty. I don’t know that I see people that way anymore, but she fits some sort of standard of beauty, I suppose. I can easily say that her only makeup is the mascara smeared across her cheeks. Her freckles add to her appeal, splattered across her skin like paint on canvas. I stare at her a few moments longer, zoning out on her soft features.

Maybe I just haven’t held a woman in so long, I’m enthralled by the smallest details. However, there was a time in my life when I drank beer, slept around, laughed for the hell of it, and was…normal.Now, I’m forty years old.

Anddefinitelynot normal.

I kick open the door and enter my cabin, my escape from the real world. The fireplace is blazing, and I stomp the snow off my boots after shutting us all inside. I cross the hardwood floors to the couch and dump her off, taking her in once more.

Maybe I should tie her up? Or get her out of the wet clothes?I drop my neck warmer and rub the unruly stubble on my jaw as I contemplate for a few moments. No answer comes immediately, and so I spin on my heels to head back out into the blizzard to retrieve her things.

Thirty minutes later,I drop her bags by the door, once again eyeing her on the couch. She’s still out, and that’s a little concerning. I brush it off though and lock up the front door. The elements are worsening, and if someone was out looking for her, I know they aren’t now. It’s too dangerous for search teams to dispatch, and they’d have to travel a hundred miles to even get here. This isn’t a touristy area.

No one is coming for her. For now.There’s a strange air of excitement with that conclusion, but I don’t know why. I don’t like people. They never last long around me, anyway—even if I want them to. I frown at that, and kick my boots off this time, leaving them by the door. Gunner is somewhere inside, probably snoozing in my room. I strip out of my parka and hang it on the rack by the door, and then slide out of my coveralls as well.

I’m left in my black sweatpants, henley, and wool socks as I creep across the floors to check on the woman invading my space. I clench my jaw as I take in the serene way she’s laying there. I don’t know if she’s just that fucking tired, or if I knocked her out a little too hard. I have things I could give her to keep her out…

That would probably be for the best until I make up my mind.

I mean, I can’t discern the severity of her concussion, and if she just doesn’t wake up, well… That’s out of my hands. She’s the one who trespassed and got stuck. It’s not like I baited her here or something. My gate was shut for fuck’s sake.

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