Page 8 of Christmas on Ice
Then my wheels hit a patch of black ice.
I leaned back into my seat as I slid, trying to keep calm as my adrenaline spiked. My heart pounded like a deafening drum in my ears, and the onset of panic stole my breath. I wrestled with the steering wheel and coaxed the pedal, but it was no use. The world spun around me as my car continued its forward motion down the empty stretch of road.
A vision of Ryleigh flashed before me, and the fear of not being there for her chilled me to the core. Ryleigh’s laughter rang out as the car swung towards the side of the road in slow motion.
I gripped the wheel as tight as I could with shaking hands.
No no no no no!
A thud jarred my whole body and my seat belt snapped against me before everything went dark.
5
Trask
“Kami? Kami, can you hear me?”
Panic gripped my gut as I tried to jimmy open the driver’s-side door of her car. I’d found it facing the wrong direction on the side of the road, the front end stuck in the drainage ditch that paralleled the road. Kami’s head lay on the steering wheel, and she wasn’t moving.
“Kami!” Her head moved slowly, turning toward the sound of my voice. She blinked a few times and closed them again.
I’d just left the restroom at Brewski’s and was on my way out when I overheard Drew on the phone with Brenna. I caught bits of their conversation, enough to know that Kami hadn’t made it home. They were sure she was fine, probably just making a quick stop on her way, but Brenna was concerned because she always texted details if she was going to be later than expected.
I’d felt a chill and offered to drive the route and see, just in case.
My feeling proved right. I found her car and jumped into action, leaving my headlights on and pointed at her vehicle. I was about to dial 9-1-1 when she sat back and held up her hand. “I’m fine.” Though faint, her voice was clear. She unlocked the door, and I pulled it open. I flexed and unflexed my fingers, unsure if I should touch her or not.
“Are you … okay?” My words wavered, and I swallowed. She placed a hand on her forehead and closed her eyes again. The airbags hadn’t deployed, and I worried she might have a concussion. “Did you bump your head? Let me look in your eyes?”
She winced as I turned on my phone’s light and pointed it away from her. I gently pried her hand off her forehead. “We have to stop meeting like this,” I joked, then cringed. Not the best time for my awkward attempt to try to lighten the situation.
Her lips twitched. “I owe you two now,” she whispered.
“You don’t owe me anything, Kami.” I focused on her pupils. “Pretty sure you have a concussion. I can drive you to—”
“No.” Her reply was firm and decisive, in that mom voice my own mother had perfected.
“But—” I started to argue.
“Please. I just want to go home.”
I nodded. “Okay. But I’m worried about you.”
“I’m just tired. I can walk from here and call the tow company when I get home.”
“No need. I can take you home, and the guys and I can pull your car up.”
Her sigh of relief sent a wave of warmth through my freezing body. It couldn’t be much above zero. The interior of her car wasn’t as cold as the outside yet. I hated to think of what could’ve happened if I hadn’t found her when I did.
I sent a group text to the team, asking if anyone could come to help me. I had chains in my truck, but I hadn’t yet taken the time to learn how to use them properly.
“Do you have a bag or anything?” I asked. She passed me a tote bag, and I slung it over my left shoulder and then extended my hand to her. “I got you.”
I gripped her mittened hand in mine and reached around her to support her back. I was looking for any signs of a neck injury. Sometimes you couldn’t feel a pinched nerve or whiplash until you started to move.
She seemed okay, so I pulled her to a standing position. The night was cold but clear, without a wind. Still, I slid my arm around her waist to help guide her up the shallow embankment. She stumbled a little.
“Are you sure you don’t want to get checked out?” I loosened my hold as we reached the passenger side of my truck, and I opened the door.
