Page 2 of Snowed In with Four Firemen
“Emily, you don’t have to do that.”
“Do what?’
“Take things in stride. That’s what you always do. You’re the bravest person I know, but sometimes it’s okay not to be okay.”
I remember what Whit told me when I found out.“I did it because you were a frigid bitch.”
I sigh. I know I can be a little uptight at times, but that’s because I’m self-reliant. A couple of Hailey’s other friends offered to drive with me up to the Lodge, but I declined the offer. I needed the ride to clear my head, get a fresh perspective. I already knew Whit was coming. He had texted me last week, first telling me that he had a new girlfriend he would bring to the wedding. And a few days later to ask me if I wanted to be his plus one.
Maybe I should have just driven up with someone.
“It’s okay. I can handle my cheating ex at your wedding. It’s about you and Sam, not me and Whit. I’ll just avoid the drama.”
Hailey sighs with relief, but there’s still a hint of worry in her voice. “I know you can. But if it gets too weird, Jace can keep you company. He’ll be there, too.”
Jace. The name sends a jolt through me, and despite myself, I feel my stomach flip. I haven’t seen him in years, not since we broke up. I’m not even sure how I feel about it—about him—but the thought of being around him again stirs something in me that I’m not ready to face.
“If you want, I can send Jace or one of his firefighter friends from the foot of the pass.”
No way.
I clear my throat. “There’s no need for that. I’ll be fine,” I say again, more to myself than to Hailey. “I’ll see you soon, okay? We still have a few days before the wedding.”
“Okay, drive safe, Em. Can’t wait to see you!”
I sigh. Hailey is right. She’s been up there at the lodge many times before. She knows the place better than me. The podcasters were probably just trying to spice things up for their listeners. Surely, it’s not going to be that bad.
Hailey’s voice is full of warmth, and it’s that warmth that I hold onto as I hang up, ignoring the fact that Whit’s name is still there on my screen, a call that I have no intention of returning.
I drop the phone onto the passenger seat and focus on the road ahead as I press my foot down on the accelerator.
The landscape transforms around me as the road climbs higher into the Colorado mountains. The steep, winding roads twist through dense forests of pine and fir, their dark green needles jutting out against the rocky cliffs. The air is crisp, cooler than it was at the base of the mountain, and the scent of pine fills the car, reminding me of childhood camping trips with Hailey and Jace.
It’s still light out, even though the evening is well underway. The sky is a canvas of soft grays and blues, heavy cloudshanging low but not yet threatening. Rays of fading sunlight peek through gaps in the clouds, casting a golden glow over the mountain peaks. The towering cliffs are dotted with patches of snow, remnants of a winter that never fully left these heights, and the valleys below are blanketed in a patchwork of deep green and russet hues. The beauty of it all is almost surreal, like something out of a postcard.
As I drive, the road narrows, curving sharply around the edges of the mountainside. The drop-offs are steep, but the view is breathtaking.
Feeling a little more at ease, I switch the radio to a cheerful station, one that’s playing upbeat tunes from the eighties. The familiar songs fill the car, and I find myself humming along, tapping my fingers on the steering wheel to the rhythm. For the first time since I landed in Colorado, I feel like maybe everything will be okay.
I have half a mind to contact the podcasters and tell them not to instill unnecessary panic in people. But then, just as I’m starting to relax, I notice something different. The first few snowflakes drift down from the sky, light and almost unnoticeable against the windshield. At first, it’s just a few flakes here and there, remnants of previous snowfalls sticking to the pines surrounding me. But I soon realize I’m wrong.
It’s starting to snow. Shit. I quickly glance at the GPS. I’ve three more miles to go.
The snow starts falling faster, transforming from gentle sprinkles into a full-on cascade in what feels like seconds. One moment, I’m driving through a light dusting of snowflakes, and the next, it’s as if the sky has opened up, unleashing its snowy wrath upon me.
The road ahead disappears under a thick, white blanket, and the visibility plummets so quickly that I can barely see the car’s hood, let alone the winding mountain road ahead.
My heart starts pounding in my chest, and my grip on the steering wheel tightens until my knuckles turn white. This is bad, very bad.
The radio is still playing, but the upbeat tunes feel out of place, almost distorted as an overwhelming sense of dread settles in my gut.
I lean forward, squinting through the windshield, but it’s no use. The snow is coming down so hard and fast that it’s like driving through a thick, swirling fog. The headlights barely penetrate the wall of white in front of me, and the road, once so clear, is now completely obscured.
Panic starts to set in. My breathing quickens, each inhale sharp and shallow. I’m not sure what to do. Should I stop? But what if someone comes up behind me and can’t see me in time? Should I keep going? But where does the road even go from here?
And I’m already too high up the pass. If I stop now, won’t I just slide backward just as quickly? There are too many possibilities, each one more horrible than the other.
I check my phone, hoping to contact nine-one-one, but my hope dies quickly as I notice that there’s no signal at all.Shit.
