Chapter 5
FIVE
6 Days til Christmas
Flying direct into Syracuse was usually easy peasy. Unfortunately for us, we ended up trapped on the tarmac, thanks to the downfall of the airlines in general. First, we had a mechanical difficulty, then we needed an available flight crew.
We’d been loaded on a plane twice, and we had also deplaned just as many times. Getting to the ticket agents to rebook was a lesson in futility, and I'd ended up sleeping in the O’Hare terminal for all of two combined hours, thanks to the chaos.
Surprising my parents was becoming more of a pain in the ass than I had planned for.
If that wasn’t enough, we’d flown into a storm that Michigan was punting to New York with a good ol’ middle finger. According to the pilot, we were hopefully going to get ahead of it.
Finally, I walked across the departing tunnel that opened into Syracuse's airport. I paused at the massive window decked out in fake snow and classy glitter to find all too real snow piling up. At least six inches so far from what I could tell from that vantage point. "Well, shit."
Swearing under my breath, I pulled my phone out of my pocket to see the dreaded weather warning on my screen. I'd been so exhausted I'd slept the full flight and had missed the update stating we had not beat the snow. There were multiple warnings piling up that had changed over to storm watches with a staggering amount of feet forecasted.
Awesome.
And I still had an hour’s drive into Crescent Cove.
Maybe I should call them. But knowing my mom, she'd worry if I was driving in this bullshit. I was well versed in driving in this crap, thanks to living in the Syracuse region. Two of the Finger Lakes were in our backyard and lake effect was very much a way of life for winter storms in this region. I checked the board for which baggage claim I'd have to camp out at then I trudged over to the car rental booths.
The line snaked around every available space, meaning I was probably going to get boned there too. While waiting, I perused the three rental companies’ websites to see how bad my boning would be.
Based on the grumbling ahead of me, there would be a severe lack of lube.
Sure enough, there was only a very small, very not winter weather-worthy car that would barely fit my 6'2 frame. Knowing it wasn't the rental agent's fault, I just handed over my credit card for a set of keys. Normally, I'd skip the extra insurance, but something told me not to chance it with how my day was going.
I collected my bags, which took another freaking forty minutes.
Now very behind schedule, I blew out a breath. Now I was exhausted, annoyed, hungry, and hell, I probably even smelled at this point. Honestly, I was afraid to check. Not like there was much I could do about it. My mom and dad would still hug the shit out of me before they pushed me into their very posh bathroom to wash off the airport stank.
The trip across the gangway to the parking garage was slick, since the snow was blustering around with as much anger and annoyance as I felt.
I glanced in the direction of the hotels near the airport. Maybe I should just crash at one of those and start over in the morning, but I wanted a real bed and my mom's freaking hot chocolate. Maybe she'd even take pity on me and make me toasted cheese and soup. It only tasted good when she made it for me.
No matter how I tried, I never got it quite right.
If that made me a child, then so be it. I was the youngest of the family, wasn't I?
Actually, that was a hearty nope. My toddler little sister now had that honor. However, having a toddler in the house meant my mom would definitely have dinosaur chicken nuggets and grilled cheese at the ready.
I wasn't too proud to turn that down, dammit. And I’d deserve it.
Grumbling, I stood in front of the red clown car that was in slot 47. "Hell."
I sighed and tossed my two bags into the trunk. At least the airport hadn’t lost my bags in the deboning—er, deplaning extravaganza.
Finally, one point in my favor in this doom-filled trip.
I jammed my knee under the steering wheel as I got in.
"Yep. Tracks," I muttered and clicked the seat back as far as it would go—which was about five inches less than a human male could endure.
As with everything in life, those inches mattered.
I hunched over the steering wheel as I rolled out of the parking garage into sheer bedlam. While I knew how to drive in the snow, it was quite obvious many out here did not. Two cars were in a ditch and another three were fully turned the wrong way on the road. People were trying to pick up and escape in the same sludge of rapidly shit visibility.
The road crews were doing their best, but the snow was coming down faster than they could keep up with.
At least a flatbed tow truck was attempting to help the stranded cars.
I took it slow as possible, pulling away from the beeps of emergency vehicles and the more intense bleating honks of frustrated drivers. I just hoped that the main streets were in better shape.
All the while, the snow got heavier and harder to see through.
The only thing that saved me was that I was a good driver and well-acquainted with this route. My shoulders were tight with tension on the excruciatingly slow drive. My phone hadn’t linked up to the broken USB connection in the basest of base model cars, so I was forced to listen to chirpy Christmas music on every damn radio station, but I finally made it to the last interchange toward Crescent Cove.
“You’re doing great, Hilda. Just a few more miles." I patted the faded charcoal dash of the Chevy Versa that I’d named somewhere between the airport and Camillus, a nearby town.
Suddenly, I slid into a full three-sixty. My adrenaline spiked, my fingers holding on for dear life on the steering wheel as I pictured a snowplow pushing me off the ramp. My dad's voice thundered in my head with his instruction to turn into the spin.
Thankfully, the snowplow had continued straight on the highway and there weren't any other cars on the ramp. I blew out a slow breath when I gently rocked into the mile-high snowbank covering the guardrail.
"You're letting me down, Hilda," I said aloud to the car. "I told you that you were doing a good job, dammit."
Of course, the car didn't talk back, and the windshield wipers just squeaked with the buildup of snow. I reached out the window and scooped some of the snow off the blades before I gunned my way out of the snowbank and back onto the ramp.
It was slow going as I inched my way down the highway. I only had three more exits, but every muscle in my body ached from the drive.
Finally, a snowplow merged in front of me, and I followed right behind him on the freshly plowed road. Unfortunately, he didn't turn off with me on the exit for Crescent Cove and Kensington Square. This was much less familiar for me.
I had only been out to my brother Callum's house once. But I was fully invested in getting to my parents’ place at this point.
My only choice was to inch along Lakeview Drive. The sky was that weird iridescent orange that told me there was much more snow to come. There had to be well over a foot already since I'd gotten out of the airport. That was a staggering amount for the two hours I had been white-knuckling it to Crescent Lake.
And I was the only idiot on the road.
Even seasoned Cove residents were staying in on this ridiculous night. I felt as if I'd been in the middle of a freaking snow globe for hours.
The conditions were near white-out now that I was right on the water. I didn't know what else to do but keep moving. Hell, I could barely see the lake at this point. Just weird lumps with lights under them that had to be some sort of holiday decoration.
I turned off the radio. The odd insulation of snow made for an absolute lack of sound. Just the wipers trying like hell to keep up with the fat flakes and my tires squeaking over the packed-down snow.
My back tire kicked out as I hit the bend around the lake, and I wrestled the wheel so as to not spin out into a ditch. No one would freaking find me out here. The car shuddered and righted itself, and I slowed to a stop.
Maybe I should pull off, but I'd probably freaking freeze.
I glanced down at the gas gauge and saw I had less than half a tank available to me, which would not last through the night. Maybe until a plow went by, but with how my luck had been, the driver wouldn’t stop, anyway.
Who knew if the plows would even bother with this road until morning?
If I had my way, I’d be home next to a fire, that was for sure.
I patted Hilda. We were now officially in a relationship. "We got this." I pressed on the gas and resumed my painstaking route to Callum's place. My parents were next door, I was pretty sure, so at least I'd land somewhere close even if I had to trudge my way up to their house.
Not that I was dressed for snow.
I'd taken the time to stop off at my apartment and packed two weeks’ worth of clothes. Luckily, I’d had the forethought to send all my gifts to my parents’ house weeks ago. Jeans, trainers, and a sweatshirt were just fine for a plane ride, but not for this bullshit.
That was a problem for when I got there. Right now, I had to get to the house first.
I finally got around the bend and a massive cabin came into view. The white lights peeked out of the trees caked in snow like buttercream on a gingerbread house.
Picture perfect in a snowstorm. I wouldn't mind being inside of that idyllic, warm house about now.
Though warmth wasn’t a problem at the moment. I had the fan blowing cool air to combat my hot ass breath in this tin can.
My tires skidded.
"I didn't mean it, Hilda. I promise." I gripped the steering wheel. "I'll even buy you out of your contract with the mean rental car people if you just get me home."
The wheels shuddered again. Snow had probably built up under the wheel well.
“Shit.” I gripped the wheel.
Just then, a massive truck came around the bend—the kind with two slicing plow monstrosities that were at least double the height of my damn car, pushing a metric ton of snow at me.
The driver tried to divert it, but there was no stopping the wall of snow.
Bracing myself, I did something I hadn’t done in a damn long time.
I prayed.