Chapter 3
Marcy
Flakes of snow dance across the windshield.
One moment the road was clear and the next it’s blanketed in snow.
My headlights reflect off the flakes, barely illuminating the road ahead of me.
I’m an idiot. I shouldn’t have run from the bar the way I did, but I panicked.
I don’t know why. Landon had been nothing but kind.
He’d only been concerned about me getting stuck in a situation like the one I’m in now.
But Brett had been kind once too.
The road twists ahead, a ribbon of asphalt snaking through the ever darkening mountains. I grip the steering wheel until my knuckles turn white, leaning forward as if I can will my car to keep climbing. Suddenly the car jerks and I swerve.
“What the hell?”
My fuel light starts flashing red. The needle is on empty. How? I filled the tank only a couple hours ago. There’s no way it's empty.
My breath comes out in short burst as I press my foot down harder on the gas. "Come on, come on," I mutter, as if the old sedan can hear me.
But it's no use. The engine coughs, a metallic rattle that sends dread pooling deeper in my stomach. I can’t break down.
Not here—not in the middle of nowhere when Brett could show up at any moment.
My car doesn’t seem to care though. It jerks, and I swerve.
My grip on the wheel is painfully tight as the engine sputters and suddenly just… stops.
“Shit,” I hiss as I coast to the shoulder of the road. The tires crunch on the snow covered gravel until I come to a slow agonizing stop.
Silence envelopes me. I twist the key in the ignition. The engine grinds as it tries and fails to start. I try again and again until the tears I’ve been holding back, blur my vision.
“Fuck!” I scream, slamming my fists on the steering wheel. “Stupid. Fucking. Car.” I slam my fists harder with each screamed word. “Stupid. Fucking. Life!”
It feels like an eternity ago when I had a life I was proud of. I had friends and family and a career. But now? Now thanks to him, I’m a twenty-six year old woman with nothing to show for it.
I sag back in my seat, hands dropping to my sides. It's just a car, just a machine, but right now, it's just one more thing that’s slipping through my fingers. One more loss on top of a million others. One more thing being stolen from me.
I need to calm down. I need to get a grip on this situation before things inevitably get worse.
Closing my eyes, I pinch the skin between my thumb and forefinger until it pools with a single bead of blood.
Faded crescent moons are already scarred into the skin there.
Shitty coping mechanism, but one I’ve had for a while now.
My breaths slow and I’m finally composed enough to reach for my phone—only ten percent charged, of course.
I open a web browser and praise the universe when I find there are two bars of signal.
Service has been spotty in these mountains, but right now I’ll take what I can get.
I search for the closest mechanic and dial the number.
The ringtone echoes in my ear as I silently hope they haven’t closed early.
"Five Brothers Mechanics, how may I help you?” A voice answers abruptly. A man’s voice. He sounds out of breath, like he heard the phone and ran back inside to answer it.
"Hi, um, my car broke down on Rock Creek road…” I hesitate. “I—I need some help.”
“Sure thing. Do you know approximately where you are on Rock Creek?” the man asks.
I glance out the windshield and shake my head. Everything is too dark and snowy to tell what landmarks might be near me. “I’m sorry. I—I don’t know exactly where. I passed through Black Pines about thirty minutes ago. Does that help?”
“It helps enough. What’s the make and model of your car?”
I ramble off the information he needs along with my licence plate number.
“And what’s the name?”
“Marcy Lewis.”
“Did you say Marcy?” the man asks. There’s an edge to his voice that wasn’t there before.
“Um… yes?” I hesitate. “Is something wrong?”
“Nothing at all miss. A tow truck will be there in twenty minutes.”
“Okay, thank you,” I reply, feeling a flicker of relief. I hang up and lean back in my seat, my heart still racing. Twenty minutes. I can survive for twenty minutes… I hope.
The mountains loom around me, their jagged peaks barely visible through the falling snow.
The stillness presses in, thick and suffocating.
I scan the road for headlights, praying for them to appear, while fearing that they will at the same time.
Please, just let the mechanic come first and not Brett.
I don’t know what I’ll do if he comes first. Not when I’m out here alone in the middle of the mountains with ten percent of battery on my phone.
“Just breathe,” I whisper. I force myself to take slow breaths, counting each inhale and exhale, trying to anchor my racing thoughts.
Fourteen and a half minutes later a set of headlights come up behind me. My throat tightens as they get closer, a lump forming in my chest with each passing second. The headlights bounce off my windshield before narrowing into the shape of a tow truck and the lump eases.
The truck pulls to a stop in front of me, its engine rumbling.
The driver steps out, a tall imposing figure wrapped in layers against the cold, his silhouette framed by the beam of his headlights.
I can’t make out his face yet, but there’s something about the way he moves—confident and steady—that nudges at my frayed nerves.
It’s not Brett. I know that much. This man is larger and much taller.
I roll down the window, as he approaches, the light catches the glint of walnut brown hair and a bearded face.
I gasp. How? I push open my door and stumble out of the car.
“Everything alright, sweetheart?” he asks, his green eyes meeting mine.
“Landon?” His name rushes out of me as he approaches. “What—I mean…how?”
“I heard the call come in the shop and thought maybe you could use a friendly face instead of a stranger.” His gloved hands reach for mine but I jerk back. He stops, holding his hands up like I’m a wounded animal he’s trying not to spook. Maybe I am. “Are you okay?”
I blink against the falling snow and shake my head. Tears prick my eyes and I duck my head as I try to blink them away. It’s just a coincidence, he’s just doing his job. Not every man is Brett.
“Marcy?” he asks again, his voice cutting through the frigid air, filled with that same steadiness that calmed me at the bar.
He yanks off his gloves and closes the distance between us.
“Hey, hey. What are the tears for?” He raises a hand, slowly, carefully, making sure I see it before he cups my cheek.
His thumb rubs away a stray tear as he leans towards me.
“You’re okay, baby. No one is going to hurt you, okay? ”
Baby. The way he speaks to me—touches me, it feels like I’ve known him forever. And that’s terrifying.
I step out of his grasp and clear my throat. “I’m fine, just overwhelmed. My car just ran out of gas or something.” I shake my head. “I don’t understand it though. I filled my tank earlier. It shouldn’t be empty yet.”
Landon hesitates, like he wants to touch me again but he doesn’t. Instead, he pulls his gloves back on and nods to my car. “Mind if I give it a try?”
“Knock yourself out.” I hand him the keys and he leans into my car, and turns the key in the ignition. It whines but doesn't start. Landon tries again before popping the hood. He takes a look for a few minutes before stepping back, shaking his head.
“I don’t see an issue right off, but by the sounds of it, it might be leaking fuel. I’ll know better once we get it back to my shop and I can take a closer look.”
“Your shop?” I ask.
“You didn’t think I was driving a tow truck for kicks did you?
” He grins. “Some buddies and I own and run the garage in Black Pines. I was looking for you after you left.” He chuckles.
“And that sounds super creepy. But I just wanted to make sure you were okay. It was pure coincidence that you called my shop. I heard the name and thought I’d make sure if it was you that you weren’t left stranded for long. ”
I stand there shivering in the snow, half-wondering if this is some sort of twisted way to pick up chicks.
But I was the one who approached him at the bar and asked him to kiss me, not the other way around.
Landon’s presence is both a balm and a barrier, stirring up emotions I’m not ready to confront.
The adrenaline from earlier still tingles in my veins, but it’s mixed with a growing sense of safety that feels foreign.
I don’t know how to reconcile this man’s kindness with the chaos that has been my life lately.
As he examines my car, I can’t help but notice the way his muscles ripple beneath his jacket, the way his confidence radiates like warmth on this freezing night.
But then the memories of Brett claw at the back of my mind, scratching at the surface of my newfound peace.
My heart is an erratic drumbeat in my chest, and it pulses through every fiber of my being as I remember Brett's threatening words.
“See you soon, Marcy.” His voice is a haunting echo that reverberates in the chambers of my mind, refusing to be silenced.
“You’re cold,” Landon’s voice cuts through my thoughts. “Come on. Let’s get you in my truck. You can warm up while I hitch up your car.”