Page 298 of Come Back to Me

“I know.” He drags me in for a one-armed hug. “You should head home, Theo. It’s snowing. They said a blizzard will be heading our way soon enough.”

“Managed to figure that out for myself, Colt.” Still, I shoot him a sheepish smile. “Thanks, bud.”

“Don’t mention it. Saw you on my way home. Zee’d have my balls if I left you out here to freeze.”

Despite his teasing, I can see the concern.

It’s been six months since Bea was chased away from town by her bastard ex-husband.

Six fucking months since my life came crashing down around me and the future I’d been planning disintegrated.

Six months since Dove Bay got her out of town and gave her a new life.

Now all that’s left is a fake grave where she’s ‘buried.’ But it’s just proof that she left me behind too.

“Want a lift home?”

“No,” I rasp. “I’ll be fine.”

“Heard about that argument your dad had with the principal of Our Lady of Sorrows at The Coffee Shop.”

“About the property limits?” I rub my chin. “Gives him something to focus on that isn’t Mom.”

The boarding school has always been a nightmare neighbor. The last thing Frobisher steers want is a goddamn hockey rink in the middle of the prairie.

I love hockey as much as the next Canadian, but goddammit, I’m as sick as Dad is of these out-of-towners flashing cash around and thinking they can do whatever the fuck they want.

“How is Elena?”

“Accusing the toaster of having an affair with the TV.”

“Jesus.”

“Yeah.”

“We should get going, bud. They’re predicting the same conditions as the Storm of ’92.’”

We part ways, mostly because he won’t leave until I do. Then, when I’m on the road, I can tell he’s not going to stop following me until I make it to my family’s ranch.

I turn off just so he’ll leave, then I wait, watching him in my rearview mirror so I can turn back and head down Clemens Lane and drive the fuck out of here.

Twenty minutes from home, conditions change. The blizzard Colt mentioned hits. And that’s when I see the car, the taillights blazing red like demonic eyes through the white wall in front of me.

“Shit,” I mutter, pulling as close to the vehicle as I can.

Jumping out of the cab, I rush to the driver’s door and knock on it. Frightened eyes stare at me, darting back and forth in fear until she glances at my jacket and her shoulders sag.

She opens the door. “You work for Colt Korhonen?”

“I do, ma’am. What happened?”

“These damn Fairweather snow tires failed me again! I crashed into a pole?—”

“Are you okay?!” I scan her for any visible injuries, trying not to notice how beautiful she is.

“Yes. I was crawling along. It’s quite embarrassing really.”

“A pole, ma’am?”

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