Chapter 5 #2
My brain, numbed by an hour of staring into nothing, almost dismissed it as another phantom—like the dozen false alarms before. I hit the brakes harder than I meant to, sliding sideways before the tires found purchase against the ice-covered asphalt.
And there, less than ten feet from where I stopped, sat a white SUV with New York plates.
It had gone through the guardrail at an angle, taking out twenty feet of metal barrier before being stopped by a massive pine tree. The front end was accordioned, steam still rising from the exposed engine block.
How long had she been here? Minutes? Hours?
“No, no, no—” The words ripped from my throat as I threw myself from the vehicle, not even bothering to shut off the engine.
My boots slid on the ice, nearly sending me down, but I caught myself against the guardrail—what was left of it.
The wind drove icy snow into my face, and I had to shield my eyes just to see where I was going.
The driver’s side door of the SUV was jammed from the impact, the frame bent inward. The window was still intact, but a layer of ice made it impossible to see if she was still inside. My gut told me she was.
“Kelsey!” I yanked on the door handle. Nothing. Not even a budge. “Kels, can you hear me?”
I braced my foot against the back door and pulled harder, using all my weight. The metal groaned but held. My hands were beyond numb, gloved fingers slipping on the ice-covered handle.
“Come on, you piece of shit.” I repositioned, got both hands on the handle, and pulled with everything I had. Something in my shoulder popped—an old rodeo injury roaring back to life, but adrenaline had taken over, and I wouldn’t stop until I got it open.
The door shrieked as it gave way, opening maybe eighteen inches before catching on the bent frame. It was enough.
Inside, the deployed airbags hung limp like deflated ghosts. I shoved them aside, my stomach turning at the sight of Kelsey’s body slumped sideways, her seatbelt the only thing keeping her upright.
Blood. So much blood, I couldn’t tell where it was coming from. It covered her face, matted her hair, soaked through her pale pink sweater.
“Kels?” My voice broke on her name. I squeezed through the gap, contorting myself to fit, and reached for her with shaking hands. “Baby—open your eyes.”
She groaned, the most beautiful sound I’d ever heard. Her lashes fluttered, the deep green eyes I’d fallen in love with at seventeen finding mine through the haze of pain and confusion.
“Teddy?” she whispered, her ice-cold fingers brushing against my wrist as I checked her pulse. “I—I crashed.”
“Yeah, baby. I can see that.” My hands moved over her, trying to find the source of the blood.
“Pretty sure I totaled it,” she mumbled, her voice thick and slurred. “Never gonna let me rent a car again. Blacklisted. Is that a thing?”
A laugh that was half-sob escaped my throat. She was trying to joke. Even now, bleeding and hypothermic, she was trying to deflect with humor.
“That’s what insurance is for.” My hands shook as I brushed her hair back, blood smearing across my palm. A gash near her hairline was still bleeding freely, but head wounds always bled like a bitch. What worried me more was how cold she was, her lips tinged blue, body shaking.
The windshield had a spider web of cracks I hadn’t noticed before, and a gap at the top where it had separated from the frame. Snow was drifting in, already accumulating on the dashboard. The engine was dead, so there was no heat.
How long had she been sitting in the cold?
“Baby, look at me.” My voice cracked, and I had to swallow hard before continuing, “I need you to stay awake, okay? Stay with me.”
Her eyes had started to drift closed again, but they snapped open at something in my tone. “You’re scared.”
“I’m not—”
“You are. You’re using your scared voice.” Her bloody hand came up to touch my face. “I’m okay, Teddy. I promise.”
“You’re as blue as a goddamned Smurf and bleeding.” The words came out harsher than I meant them to, driven by the fear that was crawling up my throat. “That’s pretty fucking far from okay.”
“But I’m here.” She said it so quietly I almost missed it. “I’m still here.”
“We need to get you out of here.”
“Wait—the eggs,” she said suddenly, her eyes going wide with panic. “Fought a woman for them. Free-range. They’re in the back.”
“Forget the fucking eggs, Kels.”
“But Christmas breakfast—” Her teeth were chattering so hard I could barely understand her.
The seatbelt wouldn’t release. I pressed the button harder, jamming my thumb against it repeatedly. Nothing.
“It’s stuck. I tried… but I couldn’t—” When I pulled back, she pawed clumsily at the air, her teary eyes going wide with panic. “No. Please don’t leave me here!”
“Not going anywhere.” I pulled the hunting knife from the sheath on my belt. “Hold still.”
I sawed through the seatbelt, the fabric parting with a wet ripping sound. She sagged forward the second it released, and I caught her against my chest, her blood immediately soaking through my shirt.
“I’ve got you, baby,” I murmured as I maneuvered her through the gap in the door, trying to be gentle while urgency screamed at me to move faster. Every second in this freezing tomb was stealing more of her body heat. “Can you stand?”
“Of course I can.” She tried to prove it by shifting her weight, then immediately swayed. “Maybe. The world’s a little spinny.”
“Spinny ain’t a medical term, Kels.”
“Sure it is. Right between ‘owie’ and ‘fuck, that hurts.’”
The loopy, unfiltered version of Kelsey typically only came out when she was drunk or heavily medicated, which told me she was definitely hypothermic.
The storm hit us full force once we cleared the vehicle, the wind threatening to knock us both down. I tucked her against my side, using my body to shield her from the worst of it.
“The groceries,” she mumbled against my shoulder as I guided her arms around my neck and bent to scoop her up. One arm under her knees, the other around her back. “We can’t forget the groceries.”
“Kelsey Dawn Riggs, swear to God, if you don’t forget about the fucking groceries…” I growled.
“Don’t yell at me.” She was crying again. “I’m trying to make it nice for them even though everything’s broken and wrong and—”
“Shh.” I pulled her closer, tucking her head under my chin. “I’m sorry, darlin’. I’m not yelling. And I promise I’ll come back for the groceries. But first, we need to get you out of the cold.”
“I can walk,” she protested, but her arms tightened around my neck.
“Humor me.”
“Since when do I do that?”
Since never, I thought, but didn’t say it. The trip back to the Bronco was treacherous. Ice under snow, wind trying to knock us sideways, Kelsey’s weight throwing off my balance. Twice I nearly went down, and both times she gasped and clung tighter, her face buried in my neck.
“Almost there,” I said, though I wasn’t sure if I was reassuring her or myself.
The truck was still running with the driver’s door hanging open. I kicked it shut before moving around to the passenger side. When I reached for the handle, she caught my hand.
“I can’t—I’ll get blood on the seats.” She stared down at the worn leather as if it were sacred. “I know how you are about the Bronco.”
“Are you seriously worried about that right now?”
“This is your baby. You’ve had this truck longer than you had me.”
The words stung, even though I didn’t think she meant them to. “Kels, I don’t give a flying fuck about the seats. It’s just a vehicle. You’re—” I stopped, jaw clenching.
You’re everything. You’re the mother of my children and the love of my life and the only person who’s ever really known me.
Not the time, asshole.
“Just get in the damn truck.”
She laughed or maybe cried—hard to tell with all the blood and ice on her face. But she let me help her up, let me guide her legs in, let me reach across to buckle the seatbelt. My hands shook so badly that it took three tries to get it latched.
I pulled a bandana off the dash and pressed it against the cut on her head. Still bleeding, but slower. Maybe.
“Hold this.” I guided her hand up to maintain pressure. “Tight as you can.”
Kelsey finally leaned back, exhausted, the bandana already darkening with blood. I cranked the heat to maximum, angling all the vents toward her.
“Still so bossy,” she grumbled through chattering teeth, head tipping back against the headrest. “Don’t forget the groceries.”
Ten minutes, fifteen curse words, and one busted ass later, the groceries, purse, and cell phone were safely loaded into the Bronco.
I eased back onto what I hoped was the road.
Visibility was worse than before, if that was possible.
We started the slow crawl up to my place, the engine rumbling in displeasure at the pace.
Kelsey had moved to the middle of the bench seat while I was getting everything out of the SUV, and her head now rested against my shoulder.
“Hey.” I reached over when she went quiet, gently squeezing her thigh. “Talk to me. How many fingers am I holding up?”
“You’re driving,” she said without opening her eyes. “Both hands on the wheel, Theodore.”
“Don’t fall asleep,” I said when her breathing started to even out.
“I’m not.” But her voice was drowsy, soft. “Just resting my eyes.”
“Kelsey.”
“I’m okay,” she murmured. “We’re okay.”
We weren’t. We were about as far from okay as two people could be. But with her head on my shoulder and her breath on my neck, I could almost believe her.
Almost.