Page 10 of From the Wreckage
I squeeze his shoulder as I walk by. “I’m lucky. I have the best dad in the world.”
“Don’t forget it,” he calls after me.
“Never,” I yell back as I head out the door.
“I’m headinginto town to the nail salon after my shower,” I say to my dad after breakfast. “Need anything?”
He shakes his head. “Nope.”
“Okay.” I get up from the table. “Breakfast was delicious. Thanks for making it.” I kiss the top of his head. “I’m gonna shower.” As I walk away, I give him a teasing grin over my shoulder. “You’re looking a little grayer, Dad.”
He laughs. “That’s what having a daughter does to you.” Then he points a finger toward the hallway. “Get your ass in the shower. Stop harassing your ole man.”
I laugh as I salute him and take off, laughing as I head down the hallway.
Before I get in the shower, I check my phone, frowning.Joey still hasn’t responded to my text.
I shrug, then check to make sure the water is warm enough before getting in.
Seems weird.
Or maybe I’m just being paranoid because I can’t stop thinking about a hot, broody man in a black truck. Not to mention the guy on the bike.
Wonder if he’s the same man?
When I getout of the shower, my dad’s voice comes through the door.
“I’m heading to the garage. I told Jim I’d take a look at his bike. I’ll be back in a few hours.”
“Okay. See you later, Dad.”
The front door slams as I head to my closet. I dress in a pair of jean shorts and a black tee, then grab my black flip flops.
Heading back to the bathroom, I dry my hair and apply some lip gloss, mascara, and blush. Then I grab my purse and keys, sliding my phone in the outside pocket as I go. I lock the door behind me, then head to the Mazda CX my dad bought me. It’s a used 2020 model, but it has low mileage. I rub my hand over the dashboard when I get in. It’s perfect for me.
I start it up, then back out of the driveway onto Harbor Point Road. Grabbing my phone, I pull up a playlist of my favorite songs, then toss it in the center console. I crank up the air since it’s a warm, muggy day, bobbing my head to the beat of the music.
I turn onto Pinecrest Drive, the forest thick around me. The SUV moves gracefully along the winding road. Sunlight beams through the trees, and I open my center console to grab my sunglasses to shield me from the glare. My fingers close around them, and just as I lift them out, my eyes flick back to the road. A brown blur bolts out of the trees.
“Shit!”
I slam the brake, swerving hard, tires screaming against the asphalt. Another deer bursts out right behind the first.
There’s no time.
The sickening crunch of steel colliding with muscle and bone shatters the air. My SUV jolts like it’s been punched, my body slamming forward. My forehead cracks against the steering wheel before I’m whipped back into the seat. Pain explodes across my skull.
The car shudders to a stop, the smell of burned rubber and something metallic flooding the air.
I sit there, shaking and dazed. My ears are ringing. The copper tang of blood fills my nose.
I reach up with trembling fingers, wincing as I swipe at the warm trickle sliding down my forehead.
The rearview mirror shows a bloody gash splitting my skin. I cringe, swallowing down a surge of nausea.
That’s when a black truck skids to a stop on the other side of the road. The driver’s door slams, boots pounding against the pavement.
My door is wrenched open, and suddenly he’s there. Dark hair. Scruff-shadowed jaw. Warm brown eyes locking on mine.
