Chapter Sixteen
Stuck Between a Goose and A Hard Place
“ F ollow the left curve?” I mutter, narrowed eyes flicking between the gravel drive and roughly sketched diagram clenched in my right hand. “What the hell are you talking about, Bea? There is no left curve!”
The note doesn’t answer—because it’s paper and useless—leading me in literal circles around a massive farm.
I have half a mind to just park my car and search on foot, but I’m pretty sure I’d get lost almost immediately.
Despite all the driving and circles, I’ve yet to see a single other living soul.
When I agreed to help with the Honey Bea Bash, I didn’t realize Bea meant bright and early every Saturday… for the next two months.
Apparently, the summer kickoff festival hosted here is massive, and there’s so much to do, it’ll take nearly every weekend from now until June just to get it done on time.
But I’d already said yes. And really, what else am I doing with my free time? It’s not like I have a social calendar to protect.
Sighing, I toss the map on the floor. It’s getting me nowhere.
Rolling my window down, I turn up my favorite playlist and scan the sprawling property. It’s huge—land stretching out as far as I can see, unraveling in every direction. In the distance, I can make out the outlines of quite a few buildings, and even a few silos, beneath a gray sky.
It’s the kind of beautiful that steals the air right from your lungs.
I smile, heart skipping, and breathe deeply.
The scent hits first—wet alfalfa and freshly tilled soil, rain-soaked earth clinging to every inhale. There’s a tang of coppery mud, sweet grass, and something floral, but not overpowering.
Beneath it all, there’s the warm, unmistakable musk of animals, hay-damp fur, old wood, and manure baked into the bones of the place.
Robin’s farm smelled like this—muddy and fresh and alive, a little wild around the edges. It wraps around me like a hug, and for just a second, I swear I can feel her with me.
My foot lifts off the gas when I pass three cats being chased by a—
“Is that a goose?” I breathe, eyes wide, smile wider.
A second later, a brown puppy with dopey ears flies after the goose, stumbling over its too-big feet.
Blindly, I reach for my phone and hit record , knowing Abby will lose her mind when she sees how cute the country can be. I may or may not be secretly trying to convince her to come out for a visit—via Heart Springs subliminal messaging.
The cats bounce over fence posts and around a tree, looping twice before crossing the road again. The goose never loses sight of the bunch—picking up pace, honking wildly, giant wings spread out at its sides—the yapping dog not far behind.
“God, Abby!” I laugh, wiping my eyes with my shoulder. “You’d seriously love this— AH! Fuck! Shit! Oh my God !”
My car thumps across rocks, bouncing and scraping at a slight downward angle. The steering wheel jerks, and my phone goes flying in my desperate panic to regain control of the vehicle—but apparently, it’s driving me now…directly into a steep but shallow ditch.
I slam on the breaks, and my right leg locks up, sending a sharp pain up to my hip.
A second later, the car stops moving, so I throw it in reverse and slowly hit the gas. The engine revs. The wet sound of tires spinning through mud but not catching fills the air—nothing happens.
I try again and again, but eventually, give up and shift back into park.
With a defeated exhale, I drop my head onto the headrest and stare out the windshield.
What the hell just happened? One second I was documenting the adorable reality of farm life, and the next—
“Oh, fuck!” I cry, eyes wide, heart racing. “The animals!”
Did I hit one of them when I went off the road?!
My hand flies to the handle, and I try to shove the door open, but it barely budges an inch before getting stuck. Glancing down, I quickly discover why. I’m not just in a ditch, I’m in a ditch filled with nature—rocks, plants, and mud. Lots of mud.
I close the door carefully and reach over the center console, careful not to spill the coffee I stopped for on the way here—an iced latte for me and a black coffee for Bea, since I wasn’t sure what she liked.
If she’s anything like her latte hating son , I figured simple was best.
The second door is more stuck than the first, pressed up tightly against some giant, random bush scraping against the window.
Groaning, I flop back in my seat and stare out the windshield, unsure what the hell to do. My throat constricts, nerves completely shot, and the longer I stay here, trapped and tilted, the higher my anxiety soars.
Do I scream for help? That seems a bit dramatic.
I could climb out the window, but it’s small, and I’m just clumsy enough that I’ll probably get stuck halfway through and face-plant directly into a rock.
With no one around—possibly for miles—I’d just lie there, flopping in the wind, belly down, head bleeding profusely all over the rock that took me and my car out, until the cats—or maybe one of the cows I passed—found me and had my hair for lunch.
“Get it together, Georgia.” I tug on my curls, groaning. “You’re not lost in the wilderness. It’s a farm. Someone will find you… eventually .”
Except I have to pee— desperately .
I chugged two waters on my way, one with my pills, one with electrolytes since I’m still lagging and a little sore.
Shifting, I wince at the throb in my hip but shoot up a silent thank-you that it wasn’t worse. At least I’m okay. My rental? I doubt I’ll be getting my deposit back.
My eyes catch on my phone lying on the passenger-side floor, and I reach over, snatching it up.
Thumbing open my contacts, I pause.
Who the fuck am I supposed to call, the police? A tow-truck?
Where would I even say I am?
Hit the gravel road, follow the trees. I’m seven and a half curves past the third white barn, but not quite to the somewhat smaller blue shed? Oh, and while you’re out there, please make sure there are no dead geese.
The only person who could even help me is the last one I should be calling, but I’m not sure I have any other options.
I don’t have a single other Archer’s phone number, just Kade’s from when I was on his case.
It’s been weeks since I’ve used it, and that was only to tell him Aurora’s room number the day he met her.
My stomach twists, heart clenching as my mind fills with visions of her in his arms. He has about a week left to find a place and get it ready to move her in—if he has any hope of becoming her guardian.
Has he found one? Is she okay? Is he?
I’m as desperate for updates as my bladder is for peeing.
Fuck it.
Biting my lip, thumb hovering over his number, I suck in a breath, and press Call.
The phone rings. And rings.
And rings.
My eyes fall closed, palm clenching around the phone. I sigh, muttering a defeated, “Of course, the asshole’s not going to ans—”
“ I answered.”
My mouth snaps shut so fast, I bite my tongue. Hard. “ Ouch !”
“My voice that painful, darlin’?”
No. Not even a little bit.
In fact, the drawl sounds more genuine and less over-the-top on the phone. Just the sound of it has my stomach swooping low and pitching high, all at once.
“Uh…” I clear my throat, sitting up straighter. “It’s fine. I guess.” My tongue pokes the inside of my cheek, my lips tugging up. “A little nasally, though. Kind of high-pitched.”
Kade grunts, but doesn’t respond. The sound of hammering and drilling fills his end of the call, followed by men’s voices in a low conversation I can’t quite make out.
Is he working? Maybe he found a new job. Construction, or something else local.
I flick my gaze to the clock on the dash and grimace. I’m totally interrupting his morning. Of course, he’s not going to stop whatever he’s doing to talk to me, let alone come save me from a ditch.
“Sorry, you sound busy,” I quickly say, shaking my head. God, I can’t believe I called him. I’m so stupid! “I’ll, uh, just call someone else.” I suck in a breath. “By—”
“Wait,” he barks, jolting me. A door closes, and the chaos quiets. “Sorry, couldn’t really hear you.”
I swallow hard, fingers tapping against the steering wheel. “You didn’t have to stop whatever it is you’re doing.”
“It’s fine, Georgia,” he says, deep voice wrapping around the syllables of my name, distracting me. After a minute of silence, he drawls, “So, was there a reason you called, or did you just wanna ruin my workflow?”
This time, when my stomach flips, it’s for a whole new reason. Part of me knows he’s kidding when he says it—I can hear the laughter in his voice, but that doesn't stop it from twisting something deep inside me that’s raw. An ache that never healed.
One that tells me I’m an inconvenience, a burden, unwanted .
And like always, when I’m hurt, my hackles rise.
“No, you know what,” I say, voice sharper than intended. “I don’t need anything. It’s fine. I’ll call someone else for help. Just go back to whatever it is you were doing before I ruined your precious—”
“Freckles!” he snaps, cutting me off mid-spiral. My teeth gnash together. “Stop rambling, take a damn breath, and tell me why you called, woman.”
“Momentary lapse in judgement, clearly.”
“Georgia.”
“ Kade .”
He huffs, long and dramatic. “What do you need help with?”
I tighten my grip on my phone and contemplate throwing myself from the window and finding that rock. But my bladder screams and then my hip throbs, and I toss my pride out instead of my body.
Sighing, I rub between my brows and close my eyes. “I was sort of in a little bit of a car accident,” I whisper. “And—”
“You what?” he barks.
I wave a hand through the air. “An accident. It’s not a big deal.”
“It’s a big fuckin’ deal.” He sounds breathless, like he’s moving, and my brows crash together. “Where are you?”
My nose wrinkles as I glance out the window. This is humiliating. “About that.”
Keys jingle in the background and another door slams closed.
“Spit it out!”