Page 1 of My Savior Valentine

1

WILLOW

The mountain roads wind endlessly as I make my way through Hope Peak in my rental car. Red and pink hearts adorn every storefront, and couples stroll hand in hand, their laughter carried on the crisp winter air. It’s a stark reminder that Valentine’s Day is just around the corner. Well, I guess I’ll be celebrating it alone this year.

As I leave the town behind and ascend into the mountains, my phone starts to buzz. I glance at the screen. It's Mom. I hesitate for a moment before answering.

"Hey, Mom."

"Willow! Are you there yet? How's the drive?" Her voice is full of concern.

"I'm almost at the cabin," I assure her, navigating a particularly sharp turn. "Just a few more miles."

"Are you sure you're okay, sweetie? I know things have been tough lately..."

I sigh, gripping the steering wheel tighter. "I'm fine, Mom. Really. I just... I need some time away from everything, you know?"

There's a pause on the other end of the line. I can picture her worried expression, the way she's probably twisting her wedding ring like she always does when she's anxious.

"I understand," she says finally. "But promise you'll call me if you need anything, okay? I'm here for you, Willow. Always."

I smile despite myself. "I know, Mom. Thank you."

The signal starts to crackle, and I know I'm losing reception. "Hey, Mom? I'm gonna lose you soon. I'll call you back in the morning, okay?"

"Okay, sweetheart. Be safe. I love you."

"Love you too, Mom."

The line goes dead, and I toss my phone onto the passenger seat with a frustrated sigh. My eyes flit back to the road just in time to see a sharp curve looming ahead.

Shit.

I yank the wheel to the right, but it's too late. The rental car veers off the road, tires skidding on the icy asphalt. I brace myself as the vehicle slams into a tree with a sickening crunch.

For a moment, I sit there, stunned. My heart races in my chest, and my hands shake as I grip the steering wheel.

Then, the anger hits me. I slam my palms against the wheel, cursing under my breath. This can't be happening. Not now, not again.

I take a deep breath and force myself to assess the situation. Gingerly, I open the car door and step out into the cold. The wind bites at my exposed skin, and I quickly zip my coat up to my chin. I survey the damage to the car, my heart sinking with every dent and scratch I see. The front bumper is crumpled, and the hood is bent awkwardly. There's no way this thing is going anywhere.

I kick at the snow, sending a spray of white powder into the air. Of course this would happen to me. It's just my luck. I'vespent the past year trying to piece my life back together, and now this. Frustration builds inside me, threatening to spill over.

I glance up at the sky, noting the heavy gray clouds that hang low over the mountains. It's not snowing yet, but I know it's only a matter of time. I need to figure out a plan, and fast. I can't stay out here in the cold, not with night falling and a storm on the horizon.

I dig my phone out of my pocket, praying for a miracle. But the screen remains stubbornly blank, mocking me with its lack of signal bars. I hold it up, waving it around like a mad woman, but it's no use. I'm well and truly stranded.

With a heavy sigh, I start trudging down the mountain road back toward town, my boots crunching in the snow. The cold seeps through my coat, chilling me to the bone. I shove my hands deep into my pockets in an attempt to keep them warm.

As I walk, my mind wanders to the events that led me here. The injury that ended my career, the months of grueling physical therapy, the depression that followed. I thought coming out here would help me clear my head and give me a chance to start fresh. But instead, I'm stuck in the middle of nowhere with a wrecked car and no way to call for help.

I'm so lost in my thoughts that I almost don't notice the sound of an engine approaching. I glance up, squinting against the glare of headlights. A truck is making its way up the mountain, its tires churning up snow as it goes.

As it gets closer, I can just make out the words painted on the side: "Hope Peak Mountain Angels." I can't help but scoff at the name. Mountain angels? Who names a rescue service that? I bet they're just a bunch of adrenaline junkies looking for their next thrill.

But as much as I hate to admit it, they might be my only chance to escape this mess. I take a deep breath and step into the road, waving my arms to flag them down.

The truck slows to a stop, and the driver's side window rolls down. A man leans out, his face obscured by a thick beard and a knit cap pulled low over his brow.

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