Page 25 of Accidentally Amy

Amy:I’m fine.

I went into the hall and grabbed some towels from the linen closet and a hoodie from the dryer.I’m headed that way already so it’s NBD. Just drop me your location.

Amy:AVP Blake cannot give me a ride. I’m almost there so no worries. Thanks, tho.

I don’t know why, but my stress was through the roof as I pictured her out in the storm, all alone. I texted,Mr. Chest is going for a drive, not Blake. Tell me where you are.

After the longest thirty seconds of my life, she texted back.

Amy:You know that Burger King that’s right off the interstate on Dodge?

Me:You’re at the BK?

Amy:I should be there in ten minutes.

Me:Where are you this second?

Amy:Walking on the side of the interstate, somewhere between the Dinker’s exit and Dodge.

I wasn’t sure where she lived, but that BK wasn’t too far from my place.

As soon as I pulled out of my parking garage, it was impossible to see through the deluge, even with my wipers on high. I couldn’t believe she was walking in that. Why hadn’t she called someone? I squinted when I got close to where she said she was, slowing and trying to see a person through the rain and the darkness.

And then I saw her.

It was exactly like she’d said.

She was walking on the side of the interstate, a dark, huddled figure barely visible on the freeway shoulder. I threw on myhazards and slowed, rolling down my window so she could see it was me and not some creeper as I stopped beside her.

“It’s me—get in!” I yelled.

I couldn’t see her face through the rain, but she must’ve seen all she needed, because she ran to my car. She threw open the passenger door and looked ready to jump inside, when she stopped short. She looked down at the seat and said, “I’m soaked. I don’t want to ruin your leather seats.”

“Get in,” I bit out, wanting to grab her arm and jerk her into the dry car. “They’ll be fine.”

She got in and slammed the door, and as she sat, I saw just how drenched she was. Her hair was dripping and her clothes were saturated and her face was wet as she wiped it with wet hands. She was shaking—her body was literally racked with tremors—and I reached between the seats and grabbed a towel.

“Oh, my God, I love you so much,” she breathed, taking the towel and rubbing it over her head before just wrapping it around her like it was a blanket. “Thank you.”

“No problem,” I said, wishing she’d stop shivering so violently. “I brought a dry hoodie, too.”

“I’m fine,” she said around chattering teeth. “My apartment is on Fiftieth and Sullivan.”

I put the car in gear and pulled onto the road, distracted by the way she was shivering. So much so that I said, “You’re soaked to the bone. You should take off your wet shirt and put on the hoodie.”

I expected a smart-ass comment, but she was clearly in the throes of hypothermia, because all she said was “Keep your eyes on the road or I’ll kick your ass, Chest.”

“You got it,” I said, merging into the other lane. I cranked up the heat, ignoring the shirt removal that was going on in my periphery. Obviously she was so cold she no longer cared about privacy, because she wasn’t even trying to duck down or hide herself from other vehicles’ lines of sight. Not that anyone could see anything, between the darkness and the downpour.

“Turn at the light,” she said, pulling the hoodie over her head. “And then take your first right, onto Price Avenue.”

“Got it,” I said, hitting my turn signal as I slowed for the turn.

“My building is the redbrick fourplex, way down on the corner; it’s about a block.” She pulled her hair out of the hoodie and leaned forward to hold her hands up to the dashboard vent. “I didn’t want you to come, but I’m so incredibly happy that you did.”

“Why didn’t you call someone?” I asked. “I can’t believe you didn’t just sit in your dry car and wait for help.”

“I tried my cousin and he didn’t answer,” she said, putting her face scant centimeters from the vent. “And I wasn’t that far from home.”

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