Page 97 of Find You Again (Nashville Star 2)

“No. You ain’t gettin’ out of this.”

She yanks the wheel hard. Instead of turning right and taking the loop around Clover, she goes left. Griff freezes when he sees the paved road. The same paved road that dissolves to gravel and rock in a steep ascent up to the Ridge.

“You’re answerin’ my question, Griff. Why. Did. You. Leave. Clover?”

Griff’s heart is in his throat, but his eyes are on the speedometer. She’s going fast, dirt and gravel kicking out like shrapnel. Alabama’s hair whipped wild by the wind as she steers them up the steep slope.

To his horror, Griff sees she doesn’t have her seat belt on.

He takes a steadying breath. “Pull over, okay, sweetheart? Pull over and I’ll tell you everything.”

But Alabama isn’t listening. She barely hears Griff. Her eyes are fiery, her voice shaking out in a trembling rattle. “I found the ring,” she says, and Griff goes cold. “You were gonna propose, and you left. You left me, Griff. Why?”

Fuck.

He wants to throw up. Finding the ring pushed her to her breaking point. It’s his fault, he’s been ducking, dodging the past, the reason he left, and now, now she’s imagining the worst. She’s thinking that everything between them is all bullshit.

“Okay,” he says, trying to keep a soothing tone. “I’ll tell you. I’ll you everything. Just slow the hell down.”

“Tell me now.”

Another lurch as she punches the gas pedal to the floor. The speedometer ticks up to seventy. The truck shudders like it’s on its last legs.

Griff’s eyes widen when he sees it.

Up ahead, the sandstone cliff waits. The steep outcropping where he rolled the Jeep, where he and Alabama hung upside for hours until help came.

“I’m waitin’,” Alabama shouts over the sound of the wind, the low croon of the radio.

His heart thundering in his ears, Griff bangs on the dash with an open hand. “Goddamn it, Al! You’re gonna kill us!”

“Good!” she shoots back. “And then I’ll never know and you can go to hell with that on your conscience.”

Closer and closer they get to the precipice of the cliff.

Alabama doesn’t so much as blink.

“Your father!” Griff blurts, ripping a nervous hand through his hair. “I left Clover because of your father! Fuck.”

For an instant, Alabama’s disbelieving eyes flash to Griff’s.

Then she slams on the brakes.

The truck goes into a skid and they’re both thrown forward.

Alabama lets out a cry of pain, but Griff’s held tight by his seat belt, unable to help her. Gritting his teeth, Griff braces himself against the dash as it spins out, doing a full three-sixty in the middle of the road. He feels the truck lift up on one side and then slam back to the ground with a groaning thud.

His breath coming in heavy punches, Griff sags back against the seat. What he sees next has his heart lurching in his chest.

Alabama.

She’s slumped over the steering wheel, unmoving.

He rips off his seat belt and tears toward her. “Alabama?”

Too frantic to care about being gentle, he peels her away from the steering wheel. Desperate to see her face, to make sure she’s okay. He cradles her in his arms and stares down at her. Her eyes are closed and there’s a small gash on her hairline. “Alabama,” he grinds out, his heart threatening to give out. He shakes her roughly, desperate for her to answer him.

A violent sob wrenches from her mouth. Then, her eyes flutter open to stare up at him. Hot tears track down her face. “Tell me, please,” she whispers, her voice breaking on the words.

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