Page 7 of Love Me Fierce

I carry him down the center of the median, the cold snow creeping up my pant legs, until we’re outside the circle of lights from all of the vehicles.

Turning my back to the wind, I set Mateo down but keep his back close to me, creating a tiny bit of shelter. We manage to get his jeans tugged down. The wind at my back is like ice picks, pricking the bare flesh at my ribs and making me shiver and huff. While Mateo gets busy, I give the scene a quick glance. Already the firefighters are working on the other side of the truck to extract Tucker. The cop is kneeling at my front tire, the metal snow chains flashing in the bright lights.

Mateo giggles. “It makes yellow.”

I press my cold lips to the top of his silky head. His lighthearted take on life in this moment is another example of why I’m the luckiest mama on earth. I may only have him, but he’s enough.

“Do you think the pooliceman knows Daddy?” Mateo asks.

Chills shoot down my spine. “No. Not all cops know each other. Even when they work in the same building.”

Mateo doesn’t reply. I make a note to follow up with him on this subject later.

When we get back to the car, the cop has not only affixed my snow chains, but he’s cleared my windshield of snow too.

“Thank you,” I call out over the wind.

I open the back door and help Matty inside. His Crocs track in snow, but we’ll just have to deal with that later.

“Get buckled up, okay?” I tell him while helping him unzip his coat. He can do it himself, but I’m all about speed right now.

When I close the door, the cop is there. He’s blocking the wind just enough so that I can take a deep breath without it feeling like I’m inhaling razor blades. There’s so much warmth coming off him, like he’s got a heater on inside his thick black coat. He’s wearing insulated leather gloves, the finger pads pale from use, like he’s no stranger to this weather or emergencies that require using his hands.

“Just need your contact info,” he says over the wind while removing a small notebook and pen from his chest pocket. He slips off his left glove and tucks it under his arm, then flips his notebook open and clicks on the pen.

I rattle off my phone number and address. I’ve had to use it so much in the last few weeks that I’ve got it memorized.

“Is this your current residence?” he asks, the pages of his notebook flapping in the wind. From somewhere inside his coat comes a burst of radio chatter. He reaches in and turns the knob down.

“Yes.”

He glances up, and for the first time, our eyes lock.

It’s too dark for me to get details, but the look of curiosity on his face is unmistakable.

I stare him down. I’ve told him everything he needs to know. If he wants more, that’s too fucking bad.

“Thank you,” the cop finally says. “For calling this in and stopping to help.”

“Of course.”

He tucks his notebook back into his pocket and slips his glove back on. “Drive safely.”

I jump into the car and shut my door. My frozen fingers feel wooden, and my breaths are shaky and fast, but Mateo is safely buckled, so I get the car into reverse and gently press on the accelerator. The chains now hugging my tires bite into the snow and I ease backwards. As I pass the cop getting into his SUV, he slips off his cowboy hat and slides behind the wheel, revealing a head of thick dark hair.

I reverse through the gap between the cop’s SUV and the medic rig, the cop’s headlights illuminating my profile. Is the cop watching me? Do I look as flustered as I feel?

I never did get his name.

It feels weird backing onto the highway, but it’s deserted, and I creep into the lane and shift into drive.

The ambulance is already backing into place, its headlights swinging around, lighting up the snowy road and dancing flakes. I ease down on the accelerator, and we pull away from the scene.

Ahead, the road extends straight, disappearing into the darkness. There are no other tire tracks to follow, so I use the guardrail as my guide. The chains make a loud humming, but the car feels much more solid with them on.

The bright lights from the accident scene get swallowed by the night. No other cars approach from either direction as we drive. The next mile marker emerges from the darkness.

FINN RIVER 21

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