Page 4 of Twins for the Mountain Daddies

Another gust of wind slams against the car, rocking it just enough to spike my pulse.

"Stay steady," I whisper, as if saying it out loud might make it true.

The next notification buzzes—then cuts off mid-vibration. The GPS voice stutters, then goes silent.

I frown. "What the?—"

Glancing at the screen, I see the dreadedNo Serviceindicator blinking in the corner. My stomach knots. No notifications. No GPS. Just me, the snow, and a whole lot of winding road, with no idea what turn to take next.

I snatch up my phone, tapping the screen like that’ll magically bring the signal back. Nothing. The map is frozen, my little blue dot stuck somewhere in the middle of nowhere.

"Great. Just great."

I return the phone to its place, squinting through the windshield as if sheer will can clear the weather.

Focus on the road. That's all I need to do. If only I knew where I was going.

"Come on," I urge the map, tapping the screen so hard I’m surprised it doesn’t crack. It flickers back to life, a route highlighted, yes! Noooo! It's searching again.

"Useless piece of—" I cut myself off. No use getting angry at technology when nature's the one throwing the punches. Life certainly has a way of kicking me when I’m down. Yay for me!

"Should have printed maps like in the old days," I joke to myself, but there's no laughter.

I steal another glance at the GPS. Searching...still searching. I take a deep breath, and my hands tighten on the wheel, but that doesn't stop the creeping panic.

"Work, damn it," I mutter, jabbing at the screen with a finger that betrays me by shaking.

My eyes flick up just in time to see the bend. I jerk the steering wheel, heart slamming against my ribs. For a second, the car obeys, aligning with the road like it knows this dance better than I do.

Then it happens. Of course, it does. This is me, Ivy Blake, we’re talking about here. Queen of Disaster. Princess of Poor Decisions.

There's a slick patch of nothingness under the tires, a sheen of ice that sends my car into a wild spin. The tires spin uselessly, the back end fishtails, and my stomach drops. Gravel spits out from beneath the wheels as the car skids too far, too fast. For a heartbeat, everything tilts—my world, the road, my damn luck.

I overcorrect. Big mistake.

My breath catches, a frozen knot in my chest. The world tilts, a dizzying swirl of white snow and dark asphalt and trees. So many damn trees.

"No, no, no, no..." It's a mantra, desperate and useless, torn from my lips.

I fight for control, the wheel slipping beneath my palms, every muscle tensed for impact. But the car has other ideas. The tires catch, lurching the car sideways, and before I can even curse. It veers in a stubborn, deadly slide toward the edge.

This is it. This is how I die?—

A jolt, a crunch of metal and snow. The car shudders to a halt, wedged at an angle that spells the end of this haphazard journey.

For a long moment, I can't move. Can't think. My heartbeat thrums in my ears, a reminder that I'm still here, still alive. Not sure if that’s a good thing yet. Or a lasting thing, given the fact that I’m halfway up a mountain and I haven’t seen a house or business or another person in several miles.

"Okay," I whisper to myself, a shaky laugh bubbling up. "Okay. You're okay, Ivy."

I'm not off the mountain. Not yet. But for now, I've stopped falling. But, of course, life isn’t done shitting on me.

Let’s add a little whipped cream to that shit sundae. Maybe even a little cherry for decoration.

A sudden jolt. The engine sputters, coughs—then dies.

The quiet is deafening. No hum of the heater, no robotic GPS voice, no notifications, just the sound of the wind howling through the mountains.

Panic slams into me like a freight train. I press the start button, fingers stiff with cold. Nothing. No rumble, no reluctant chug. Just silence.

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