Page 51 of Offside Attraction

“I’m sorry. I can’t see the road. My brain can’t take anything else in,” she blurted.

Jordan spun to the window. Big fat flakes swirled outside the glass. She was driving. She’d said as much a few seconds ago, but it hadn’t registered. “Where are you?” he asked.

Rhonda’s breath came fast and shallow through the phone. “I don’t know. I passed the signs for Airdrie. I think? I don’t know—” Her voice broke. The visibility didn’t seem awful outside his apartment complex, but storms had a tendency to break a bit further north.

"Rhonda, listen to me. I want you to take a deep breath. Can you do that?" Jordan's voice was steady, his training taking over. "In through your nose, out through your mouth."

“The tires are slipping!”

“Breathe.I want you to ease off the gas. Gently. Let your car slow down on its own. Don't slam on the brakes, just let it coast." Jordan's grip tightened on the phone. "You're doing great. Just keep your hands on the wheel, and look as far ahead as you can. Try to focus on any taillights or road signs. Anything that can give you a point of reference."

Rhonda sniffed. "I can't see a damn thing! I’m going to pull over.”

“Rhonda, you have to wait for an exit or a pull out. You can’t?—”

The line clicked dead. Jordan stood in stunned silence, staring at his phone. He glanced down at his hockey bag, then pulled a hoodie from the hooks next to his closet, and stalked out of the room.

He grabbed his keys, shoved his feet into his boots and grabbed his winter coat and a toque, then ran out the front door and into the howling wind.

Chapter

Sixteen

Rhonda

Rhonda satin her car with the engine running, the hazard lights blinking against the swirling snow. Her brain had drowned out the rhythmic clicking five minutes ago. The storm had come out of nowhere, a white curtain drawn across the highway, and now she was parked on the side of the road, praying she wouldn't get rear-ended by a semi. She wasn't religious, but this felt like the appropriate time to dive in.

Her hands trembled as she adjusted the heat. She inhaled, which only made her think of Jordan. She shouldn’t have hung up, but her brain couldn’t handle another modicum of input. She felt like an overloaded outlet ready to trip the breaker.

Rhonda exhaled and scanned the car. She had a flashlight in the glove compartment. A first-aid kit under the passenger seat. A half-empty water bottle in the cup holder. And the damn bag of salt and vinegar chips.

She reached for the chips then grabbed a pen from the console and stabbed the plastic. Once would’ve done it, but just in case, she drove the pen in a second time and tore it open. She shoved a couple of chips into her mouth and crunched, the tangy vinegar burning her tongue.

After a few minutes, she’d settled enough to talk to Tina. There would be no hot tub therapy for her tonight. She brushed her fingers off on her jeans and dialed.

Tina answered on the second ring. "She lives!" Someone laughed away from the speaker. “Seriously, we’ve been texting you for the last hour. Where are you?”

Rhonda closed her eyes and blew out a breath. "I was on my way, but I got stuck in this storm."

"I thought you were supposed to get here by, like, three?”

“Yeah, well. I left a little late.”

“I mean, you couldn’t have known. Everyone here was saying we likely wouldn’t get any snow.” Her voice got quiet for a second. “Anne says it’s already up to three inches on the patio.”

Rhonda stared at the fogging windshield. “I’m sorry, I’m the worst.”

“You’re not the worst.”

“I’ve made you reschedule twice.”

Tina scoffed. “Well, when you put it that way . . .”

Rhonda laughed. “Tomorrow?”

“Done. But you have to shovel the path to the hot tub?—”

“And tell us everything about the guy in the chat!”

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