Chapter 21 Gabe
Gabe
I shift the Jeep into a lower gear for the grade, grit my teeth, and then hit the gas again, thanking the universe that I’ve already put winter tires on this one.
We upgraded the engine last year, and this is our most powerful vehicle.
Right now, with the snow driving down and the drifts already building up against the trees and cliffs, I need every ounce of that power.
I still haven’t found Taryn or the truck, and I hope that means she’s still on the road and heading for town, which she’ll hit soon if she’s going as fast as I think she is.
It’s dangerous to go this fast, nearly suicidal, but after what my father said to her, I don’t think she’ll be driving slow.
She’ll want to get the fuck out of here as quickly as she can.
Though even that seems false, like it can’t possibly be happening. She ran from New York for a reason, and though she hasn’t told me what that reason is, I doubt it’s a small one. Taryn’s a smart girl and wouldn’t have left the city unless she absolutely had to.
On the other hand, I would have been surprised if she hadn’t left when my father tore into her.
I know Taryn, or at least I used to, and she doesn’t take well to the sort of hatred he was throwing at her.
She grew up with a mother who never really saw her, and the idea of someone else failing to appreciate her would have her running for the hills.
Or in this case, running down the hill.
I could kill my father for what he said, and I might do that later, but right now all I can think is that I need to find my girl and get her home. She was wearing almost nothing when she left, and if the worst has happened and she’s on foot, she doesn’t have a lot of time.
I’ve barely finished the thought when I see it.
The snow is deep up here but the tracks of a truck going out of control still stand out against the drifts.
She was taking this corner too fast and the truck went into a slide, drifting first one way and then the other—she must have been steering into the drift, trying to control it—before it straightened out for a moment, and then. ..
Oh my God.
I’m out of the Jeep and running for the edge of the road before I can think, my heart hammering and my mind refusing to believe what it’s seeing.
The tracks slide right toward the edge and disappear, which means she went over the cliff right here, and it’s so close to what I remember from the night my mother died that I feel like my brain is short-circuiting.
I see flashes of that night, the driving snow and my father roaring in fear.
Reality flickers over it and the daylight comes back, but the snow is still driving and the edge of the cliff is right there in front of me.
My brain is ten years old again, confused and terrified at what it knows has happened, and my ears are ringing with my father’s horror, but my body is in real time and knows exactly what it’s doing.
It gets me to the edge of the road and I stare down, panicked eyes searching for anything that might tell me she’s still alive.
And then I remember that this isn’t my mother’s crash scene.
We’re not on that turn, where the drop was so steep that she never could have survived it.
I’m on a different turn, and here the drop just goes into a wide meadow.
The drop must have been terrifying, but it wouldn’t have been impossible to survive, and if she was lucky enough to land on the tires rather than the truck’s side or roof, she would be just fine.
My gaze shoots from one side to the other, looking, and within seconds I’ve found the truck, wrapped around a tree. I jump from the ledge and hit the snow running, plowing through the deep drifts and making for where my girl crashed.
Please let her be okay, please let her be okay.
When it’s not enough to chant it in my head, I start saying it out loud.
“Please, please, please,” I repeat over and over, my voice hoarse and breathless with how hard I’m working to get to her. I’ve never really believed in God—too much has gone wrong in my life—but right now I’ll bow down and believe whatever I need to if it means she’s still alive.
I’ll spend the rest of my life thanking whoever I have to fucking thank.
I get to the truck, sliding through the snow in a heap, and find it empty.
The driver’s side door is open, though, so she must have been in once piece.
Alive enough to get out of the truck, at the very least. I check the snow for her tracks and find them, along with a trail of blood, and my heart starts hammering.
A little further along I see bear tracks merging with hers, and I go into a full-on panic.
It’s late for a bear to be out, but they might be delayed with the lack of snow, and if this one hasn’t gone into hibernation yet, it’s still eating as many calories as it can find, getting ready for the long sleep.
A tiny, helpless girl would look like an easy snack.
Oh my God.
Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God.
I came up here without a gun, of course, because I was in a hurry, and if there’s a bear close, we’re both in trouble.
I jump into the truck, yank open the glove box, and grab the bear spray we keep in every vehicle, then stumble out and start following her trail.
As I’m running, the snow somehow gets even thicker, like the sky is opening up, and my desperation ratchets up several notches.
She’s in this snow in her fucking shorts without any coat, and now there’s a bear out here with her.
I have no idea how badly she’s hurt but she’s definitely bleeding.
And she’s got to be absolutely terrified.
I’m going to slaughter my father for causing this. If she’s dead, I’ll never forgive him.
I don’t have on much protective clothing on either—I left the house too quickly to bother with anything more than a coat and shoes—and I’m freezing, my toes and fingers already going numb, but I won’t go home until I’ve found her.
If she’s dead out here, I’ll lay down with her and die myself.
I’ve always heard freezing to death feels like just going to sleep.
If it means I get to sleep with her for the rest of time, I’ll do it. I won’t even think twice.
But we made a deal when we were twelve and thirteen that we’d never give up on each other, and though I haven’t thought about that in years, the memory is so strong right now that it nearly knocks me over.
We were on the roof of the patio watching the stars and talking about how unfair life was, and we swore we’d never stop trying, if it meant we could be together. Hell, we pinky swore on it.
This can’t be the end. We have our entire lives to keep finding each other.
This isn’t the last of it. I know it.
Finally I see her, huddled against a tree with her knees up and her head against the tree. Just waiting, like she knew that if she sat down and stopped moving, I’d come for her. Her eyes are closed though, and her body is completely still, and suddenly I’m terrified that I’m too late.
Terrified that she gave up before I could get here to save her.