The Crash

Chapter 23

23

I wish my husband wouldn’t stay out so late in a blizzard.

Despite the fact that I begged him not to, Hank went back to the auto shop after dinner. He often goes back in the evenings, because we need the money from the extra business. Plus, the shop is right off a main road, so he gets a lot of motorists filling up their tanks just as the storm is starting.

I made him cross his heart he’d be back before the snow started coming down heavy, but when I peer out the window, there’s got to be close to a foot of white powder on the ground. The power went out half an hour ago, and I’ve been walking around the house lighting candles. Yet there’s no sign of Hank’s truck.

Where is he? What if he got in an accident?

Or worse, what if Mitch went after him? Without a weapon, Mitch isn’t any sort of match for my husband. But Mitch seems like the sort of man who might have an arsenal of rifles stashed away somewhere. If Mitch went after Hank with a gun…

My stomach clenches at the thought. Without Hank, there wouldn’t be any reason at all to go on.

Just as I’m starting to panic, Hank’s green truck appears in the distance. He’s driving slowly and carefully like he always does when there’s a storm, but even so, his tires are struggling. He pulls up in front of the house, but instead of getting out right away, he lingers behind in the cab of the truck.

What’s he doing in there?

I squint into the darkness, trying to see through the windshield of his truck. It almost looks like…

Is there someone with him?

After a good minute, Hank climbs out. He stuffs his black beanie on over his short hair and tromps through the foot-high snow to get to our front door. As soon as I get the door open, I’m waiting to pounce.

“Where have you been?” I blurt out.

Hank glances back at his truck behind him. “Found a woman on the road. Told me her name is Megan—no wait, Tegan . She got in a bad accident—hit a tree. I had to pull her out, and I think she’s hurt. Something with her ankle.”

“Oh!” I clutch my chest, but I shouldn’t be surprised. Hank is always stopping for stranded motorists on the road, even though it doesn’t mean getting paid. On any given road trip, he ends up changing at least one tire for a perfect stranger. “That’s terrible.”

“Are the phones working? We can try to call an ambulance.”

I shake my head. “The phones and the power are both out. And there’s no cell service.”

“Then she’ll have to spend the night.” He glances over his shoulder again. “Will you help me get her out of the car?”

I frown at the foot of snow covering the front of our house. “What do you need me for?”

“Well, she’s hurt, and you’re a nurse.”

I don’t bother to point out that I was a nurse. I doubt I’ll ever get hired again.

“Also…” He shoves his hands into his coat pockets. “I think she’s scared of me.”

I nearly laugh out loud at that one. I admit it must have been scary to be stranded in a busted car in a snowstorm and then catch a glimpse of my yeti of a husband coming toward her.

I obligingly put on my coat and white puffball hat, then follow Hank out to the car. The woman in the passenger’s seat is in bad shape. Although she’s not quite a woman—more like a girl. The skin of her cheeks and her forehead are perfectly smooth and unlined. She looks like she could be in high school.

Hank carries her out to our sofa and sets her down as gingerly as he can. She’s clearly in quite a lot of pain—he said her ankle is injured, and she’s got quite an egg on her forehead. But one thing he didn’t warn me about is that she’s very pregnant. I don’t notice it until her coat falls open. Her abdomen bulges out in the flickering lights of the candles I lit around the living room.

And despite how absolutely miserable she looks, I feel a sharp jab of envy.

I can’t let that bother me though. This girl is injured and will be spending the night here, and I will be her host. If I can’t handle that, I’ve got serious problems.