Page 53 of The Rookie
The sun is setting just ahead, reminding me that I’m mixing dangerous situations here. Driving in the dark for the first time and in the snow? This isn’t the best choice I’ve ever made, but it’s the only one that feels right.
I pull my coat tighter under my chin and reach for the heater, cranking it all the way up. The truck sputters and coughs up nothing.Perfect. Looks like I’ll be freezing for the next hour.
Maybe it’s the cold, or maybe it’s because I’m finally off of the Tate property, but my feverish thoughts begin to clear.
What am I doing? What if I can’t get the truck all the way to the airport? What if I get stranded out here when the sun goes down and have no way to keep warm? What if no one knows I’m gone and I freeze to death?
Flashes of me, blue-lipped and shivering in the middle of nowhere, fill my mind. I’m such a fool. I should turn back. I should never have—
The front left tire hits a big bump hidden by the snow, rocking this old rust bucket to the side. I whip the wheel to the right, trying to realign the wheels, but they don’t respond. Instead, in one horrifyingly real moment, the truck slides off the road straight toward the drainage ditch.
A scream bursts from me as the truck dips into the ditch with a thud, knocking me against the steering wheel with the force of it.
Once I catch my breath, I struggle to change gears, putting the truck into reverse, and slam my foot on the gas, pleading with fate to throw me a bone. Instead, what I get is spinning tires, gaining no traction in the snow and mud. I try again and again and again, tears welling in my eyes.
What am I supposed to do? I’m nowhere near the airport, and who knows how far from the cabin I am.
In a moment of desperation, I put the truck in neutral and climb out, stumbling down a few feet into the muck to try to push the heap of metal out with brute strength. But I’m not built like a hockey player. I’m built like a damn hockey stick.
Well. I’m officially stuck.
I climb back into the truck, shivering in my now waterlogged clothes. With shaking hands, I pull out my phone to confirm what I already expected—no signal. Classic Lost Haven.
Numb inside and out, I turn off the truck and lay my head against the wheel. Tears fall steadily down my cheeks, and for the first time since I arrived here, I’m really, truly, utterly alone. And thank God I am, because there’s no one to hear me cry.
I let it all out—all the anger, the frustration, the sadness, and let myself completely fall apart.
• • •
I don’t know how long I sit there before I hear the faint crunch of footsteps in the snow. I look up and over my shoulder, momentarily blinded by a flashlight shining through the back window.
Which is worse, freezing to death, or getting murdered by some lunatic who preys on women stranded on country roads? I haven’t yet decided when a familiar voice calls my name.
“Summer?”
Logan’s deep, gravelly voice fills me with the sweetest relief I’ve ever felt.
Whipping the door open, I half fall out of the truck and into his arms. He crushes me against his chest, those bulky arms holding me closer than anyone has ever held me. I breathe him in, letting his warmth spread through my freezing limbs. When we finally pull apart, he cups my cheek and looks down at me, his eyes brimming with worry and hurt.
“Are you okay?” he asks, scanning my face and body, checking for injuries. Knowing someone cares this much about my well-being is like a drug.
“I’m okay,” I say as I sniffle. “Just dumb.”
“You’re not dumb,” he says firmly, correcting me. “You just did a dumb thing. There’s a difference. Come on, let’s get you out of the cold.”
“What about the truck?”
“The guys and I will come and get it tomorrow morning. Believe me, no one is trying to drive down these roads tonight. Well, except for you. What was your plan, anyway? To leave the truck in the airport parking garage?”
I wipe some snot from my nose, laughing through the tears. “I’m so sorry, Logan. I wasn’t thinking.”
“It doesn’t matter,” he says softly, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “We can talk more when we’re back home. Let’s get you there soon before you freeze.”
Home. The word wraps around me like a blanket, and I realize just how fitting it is. Lost Haven really has become home. A home I was trying to run away from. But I guess one more night can’t hurt.
Logan reaches into the bed of the truck and pulls my duffel bag out with one strong arm, and I grab my laptop bag from the passenger seat. He offers me the other arm to lean on as we make the trek back to the cabin. I didn’t make it very far, turns out, so the walk isn’t too bad, especially with Logan’s giant footsteps paving the way. We don’t talk, but I can feel a very important conversation brewing between us.
Logan leads me back into my cabin and gets to work building a fire. Once it’s roaring, I stand just inches away from the woodstove, letting its radiant heat begin to defrost me.
