Chapter 8 – Senior Year of Undergrad
Chapter Eight
MAGNOLIA
SENIOR YEAR OF UNDERGRAD
My wipers were working overtime to clear the windshield but it was almost impossible to see through the sleet that wouldn’t stop falling.
“Maggie, both hands on the wheel,” Dad’s worried voice barked on the other end of the phone.
“Okay. Hold on.” I set my cell on the passenger seat. “You’re on speakerphone now.”
“Turn around and head back to your apartment,” he ordered. “You have no business being on the road in a Mini Cooper.”
“Dad, I have to finish my shadowing hours today.”
“Absolutely not. They’re not going to open anyway. Everything will be closed.”
Normally, I’d agree with him. In Virginia, if it so much as smells like snow, the schools shut down and the entire state turns into a zombie town—empty streets, blinking traffic lights, not a soul in sight.
And forget the grocery store. The bread aisle will be ransacked and the milk section wiped out like it’s the end of days. But…
“You don’t know Doctor Hunsaker,” I said. “He closes for nothing and no one.”
“I don’t give a crap about Doctor Hunsaker, who’s obviously a…” His voice cut out. I was about to hit the stretch of road between Charlottesville and Scottsville that had no cell service. “No one’s going to see the doctor today.”
Dad wasn’t wrong. No human with any sense would leave their house to see a doctor in this weather. Unless they were on the verge of dying, but Hunsaker would open even if he was in the middle of having a stroke. It’s just who he was.
Dad’s voice reappeared. “I care about my daughter. I only have one, you know.”
Just then, my wheel jerked left, pulling me across the center line, my life flashing before my eyes as I headed for the opposite ditch. I shrieked, yanking hard right, my heart slamming around in my chest as my car obediently reentered the correct lane.
“What was that?” he snapped. “Maggie?”
“Okay, Dad, you win.” I exhaled slowly, afraid that if I breathed too hard, my car might go skidding again. “I’ll turn around. But just know that if I don’t get into med school, and my dreams of becoming a doctor die with this snowstorm, I will never let you forget it.”
“You can whisper it in my ear on my deathbed. I don’t care. Just as long as…”
The call failed. I sighed and kept going, but only because I was about to run out of gas and I knew there was a gas station four miles ahead. I’d turn around after I filled up.
A half mile later, a snow plow passed going the opposite direction, throwing ice into my lane and my car decided she was done fighting gravity.
As I slid off the road, I shrieked again.
But no matter how hard I pulled left, the ice pulled harder and then I was in the ditch, the right half of my bumper kissing an embankment.
“Just great.”
I put on my coat, beanie, and gloves and went to check the damage. Icy rain hit me in the face but I walked around the front of my car anyway. A puff of frustration escaped my lungs when I realized, barring an outright miracle, my Mini lived here now.
But I, Magnolia Wren Hollis, did not give up that easily.
So I started to dig. With my hands. Like a caveman.
Which was a stupid idea. Because within five minutes, I was soaked to the bone, hands red and raw from the cold.
As I walked back around the front of my car to get inside and crank up the heat, the engine died.
“J-just great.” My teeth chattered as I glared at the sky.“You’re t-t-trying to kill me, is that it? Today is my d-day to d-d-die?”
But just then, like God was done laughing at my expense, headlights cut through the precipitation, coming toward me. I looked at the sky again. “Sorry.” Maybe. If this person had the heart to stop.
I was just about to wave the car down when I realized, no, God wasn’t done laughing. He’d just barely begun.
Because I’d recognize that forest green 1983 Toyota Land Cruiser anywhere.
Bowen Dupree’s pride and joy. Bo—Griffin’s granddad—always bragged about Bowen’s vehicle.
Apparently, Ford—who prided himself on being the fun uncle—gifted all of his nieces and nephews a car on their sixteenth birthday.
But not Bowen. He’d wanted a challenge. Instead of a new car, with Ford’s money and Bo’s help, he’d rebuilt that Land Cruiser from the ground up.
Bowen already got way too much mileage out of making fun of my Mini Cooper.
Whenever I was at the Duprees’ for holiday dinners or summer barbecues, he’d mutter under his breath, ‘Get a real car, Magnolia. Not that wind-up toy you call a vehicle. If it had less horsepower, it’d be Amish.
’ My Mini being in a ditch would only give him more fodder.
And Bowen never wasted good material. Not when it came to me.
I dove inside my car and shut the door, praying he’d leave me to die alone.
No such luck. I peeked over the dash to see him slowing to a crawl.
I slid lower in my seat as his vehicle stopped, leaving only enough space between us to open his door. When our eyes met through the glass, my masochistic heart somersaulted in my chest.
He gave me a soft smile and a wave. No judgment in his expression.
Oh, Nice Guy Bowen was out today. But I knew better than to believe it would last. It never did.
Bowen had more moods than a clique of seventh-grade girls jockeying for a pecking order.
The second I lowered my shields, he’d strike where it hurt most.
His hazard lights came on, blinding even in the haze.
I pretended to dig through my purse as he stepped out of his car. “Sh-shields u-up. Do not l-l-lower them,” I whispered to myself.
Why is my voice shaking?
My fingers dug into the seat, waiting. He tapped on the glass, and I turned. He was getting pelted by the sleet, but he stood there like it was nothing. He motioned for me to roll the window down.
“I r-ran out of g-gas!” I called.
So he opened the door, shoved his hands into the pockets of his Carhartt jacket, and ducked down to look at me. His gray eyes matched the sky outside, but they were brighter, happier. I could almost believe he was glad to see me.
“Well, fancy meeting you here.” His soft, deep voice made my stomach purr. Stop it. You’re just happy to see a Dupree. Wouldn’t matter which one it was. But my stomach wouldn’t be doing that for Gramps or Liam or Sophie even.
I smiled at Bowen, shoving down the humiliation of being stranded on the side of the road when I shouldn’t have been out here in the first place.
“I w-was t-t-trying to f-finish up some sh-shadowing hours but then the w-weather got-t-t worse.” My teeth wouldn’t stop rattling no matter how hard I tried.
His brows puckered and his expression darkened as I continued, “I w-was about t-to t-t-t-turn around and head back-k-k when—”
“Magnolia, grab your stuff. You’re coming with me.”
“N-no.” My hands shook in my lap. “I’m f-fine.”
He reached across me and grabbed the key from the console. “Seriously, woman. There’s no time for you to be hard-headed. We need to get you somewhere warm. Now.” His head jerked toward his vehicle. “Your lips are turning blue. Let’s go.”
He wasn’t asking and I was so cold it actually hurt.
So I nodded and grabbed my purse. When I stepped out, the wind gusted so hard it took my breath away—sleet hit me in the face and ran down my neck.
His arm came around my waist, he walked me around to the passenger’s side door, and helped me inside.
“Take off your coat. You’re soaked.” He shut the door, and I immediately forgot what he’d told me to do. I watched him jog around the front of the vehicle.
Oh yeah. Take off my coat.
I reached up, trying to grab my zipper but I couldn’t get my fingers to stop shaking enough to grasp it.
When he climbed in, he saw me trying and failing. So he reached over and did it for me. Once I was out of the coat, he turned the air up full blast. It was freezing.
He held his hand in front of a vent. “My heat is having issues. I’m going to fix it while I’m home for Christmas. Hopefully it’ll be warm enough. At least until we get you back to your apartment.”
I nodded but my entire body was convulsing, colder than I’d ever been. “Wh-what a-about m-my c-c-car?”
He turned off his hazards and slowly pressed down on the gas. “We can call a tow truck in a bit. Right now, we need to make sure you’re okay.” A few seconds later, he said, “Magnolia? Did you hear what I said?”
My eyes fluttered open. “Wha..? S-sowey?” Why did I sound drunk? “I’m so…” A large exhale rattled in my ribs. “T-t-tirer…” I tried again. “Triered. T-t-ittered.”
We came around a curve and Bowen swore, tapping on the brake over and over until we eased to a stop.
I widened my eyes, trying to clear my vision. A massive oak tree, that had to be at least a hundred years old, had fallen across the road. Ice storms in Virginia brought trees down all over the place.
For some reason, a snort shot out of my nose. “Wou you wook at d-d-dat?”
Bowen swore again and flipped the hazards back on.
“Wuh we doin?” I snorted a second time, clapping a hand over my mouth, laughing harder at how stupid I sounded.
He put the car in park. “We need to get you warmer.” He climbed into the back.
Everything started spinning, so I closed my eyes. Material rustled behind me. It sounded like he was wrestling a sleeping bag, but I was too tired to turn around and see.
“Hey.” He shook me. “Don’t fall asleep. I need you to stay awake.”
But my eyes closed anyway.
Some time later—I wasn’t sure how long—I felt him scoop me up and carry me into the back, his breath warm against my cheek.
There were two bench seats but they were vertical, attached to the side walls, leaving an open section of floor in the middle.
He set me down, both of us kneeling on top of—yup—a sleeping bag.
“We have to get undressed,” he said, totally serious.
“Whu?” I slurred. “N-no way.”