Chapter 2
CALEB
She’s not okay.
I keep telling myself it shouldn’t bother me this much. After all, she’s basically a stranger. Aside from her name, I don’t know anything else about her.
Well. I know she’s stubborn. And that she likes dogs. I know she isn’t afraid to say what she’s thinking.
And shit, I feel bad for her.
Was it the smartest thing to do, stopping in the middle of a damn blizzard to rescue a dog from the road? No, but I can’t blame her for it either. Shit, if I’d seen the dog first, I’d have been tempted to do the same.
Would I? I’m not sure. In my single-minded determination to get home, I might have explained the dog away as something different—a deer or a shadow or a piece of trash blowing in the wind. I might have kept going, almost convinced the dark shape in the road was nothing to worry about.
I might have wondered late at night while I stared at the ceiling instead of sleeping.
I might have even felt bad for my intentional ignorance.
Because, shit, I didn’t use to be this way.
Ten years ago, or even five, I would have been eager to be the hero.
I wouldn’t have let things like bad weather and personal risk get in my way.
Like Vienna.
She admitted to the police that she knew what she did was dangerous.
“But how could I leave him out there?” she added, her chin wobbling like she was trying not to cry.
“He was all alone. Someone could have hit him. That truck—” She winced as she glanced at the tractor-trailer still stopped in the middle of the road. “It could have killed him.”
“Like it could have killed you?” one of the officers shot back at her. “Or the driver of the truck, if he’d gone off the road?”
The flashing lights of the police cars reflected off the tears welling up in her eyes. A sudden burst of anger had me snapping at the officer, “Her hazards were on. So were mine. And that driver was going far too fast for these conditions. So I’d suggest placing blame where it actually belongs.”
I could tell the officer was irritated with me for interrupting.
But he didn’t call me out on it, because he knew who I was.
Though I spent close to two decades living out of state while I served in the Marines, I’m one of the true locals, born right here in Bliss.
And around here, being a long-time local grants a clout little else does.
The same instinct that had me taking the officer down a notch kept me by Vienna’s side while he questioned her. To make sure he doesn’t accuse her of anything else, I told myself. But it wasn’t just that. There was just this bone-deep feeling that I needed to protect her.
If someone had asked me yesterday, or even a few hours ago, I would have insisted my days of protecting were over. I even said something close to that during the dinner my old high school buddy, Enzo, badgered me into attending earlier this evening.
“You’ve been here, what? Two years now?” he asked when he called to invite me last week.
“Three,” I corrected. “Three years next month.”
“Three years,” he repeated. “And how many times have I invited you over? How many excuses have you made not to come?”
“I don’t know,” I muttered, wishing I’d never answered his call to begin with. “I’ve been busy. That’s all.”
A snort on the other end of the line let me know what he thought of that excuse.
After a beat, Enzo said, “Look, Caleb. I get it. I had a rough time when I got out, too. But three years… Just come over for dinner. A couple hours, that’s all.
You can get to know Winter. Meet the baby.
Then you can go home to be a hermit again. ”
I wanted to say no. I wanted to stick with my comfortable, hermit-like lifestyle, where I pay extra to have my groceries delivered and only go into town when I absolutely have to.
But I’ve known Enzo since elementary school.
We’ve never been close friends, but I always liked him.
And he had a point. I’d been making excuses for long enough.
That’s how I ended up on this road just past nine o’clock at night instead of sitting by the fire, watching Star Trek reruns or reading one of my snowmobile manuals.
When the storm blew in earlier than expected, Enzo’s wife, Winter, offered to have me stay at their house instead of driving home in the storm.
But two hours of socializing was more than enough.
“I’ve got four-wheel drive and studded tires,” I assured her. “Plus, it’s only a few miles to home. I’ll be fine.”
And even though my night hasn’t gone close to how I expected, I am. I’m wet and cold and grouchy, but me and my car are both in one piece.
Unfortunately, for Vienna, she can’t say the same.
“The tow truck should be here any minute,” another officer says as she approaches us. Once she’s close enough for me to see her face, I recognize her as Sage Nelson, one of the few women working for the Bliss PD.
A sharp gust of wind slams into us, and Vienna stumbles back a step from the force of it. My hand shoots out to brace against her back, steadying her. I can feel her body trembling from the cold, and I’m hit by an unexpected urge to pull her into my arms to warm her.
I don’t, of course. Instead, I turn my attention to Officer Nelson and ask sharply, “How much longer do we need to be out here? It’s been close to an hour already.”
Officer Nelson exchanges a quick glance with the other officer, who I’ve never seen before. But based on the way he’s been talking to Vienna, I don’t like him.
“We have to get a full account of the accident and the events leading up to it,” the male officer—Officer Hannigan, I think he said earlier—replies.
“It’s freezing out,” I start. “Surely—”
“We’re wrapping things up very soon,” Officer Nelson interrupts. She flashes Vienna a sympathetic smile. “I know this isn’t pleasant. Do you want to sit in the patrol car while you wait for us to finish up?”
Vienna shakes her head quickly. “No. I’m fine.”
She doesn’t look fine to me. She looks cold and miserable and on the verge of tears. “Vienna,” I say, “why don’t you sit in the car? It’ll be a lot warmer.”
“Do you want to sit in the car?” she asks. “You must be cold, too.”
As if I’d sit in the warmth of the car while Vienna stands out here, freezing? “I’m good,” I tell her. “I just don’t want you getting frostbite.”
With a wan smile, she lifts her mittens to display. “They’re insulated. So is my coat. And my boots. I’m okay.”
Or maybe she doesn’t like the idea of sitting in the back of a patrol car, which could intimidate anyone.
Especially when Officer Hannigan has been treating Vienna like a criminal instead of an innocent victim.
Poor Vienna might be imagining herself locked inside the car, being read her rights as she’s dragged off to the station.
Strobe-like lights approach from the north, signaling the arrival of the tow truck.
Or more accurately, two tow trucks, since both Vienna’s car and the tractor trailer need to be towed.
“Looks like they’re here,” Officer Nelson says unnecessarily.
She gives Vienna another quick smile. “They’ll take your car to Ellicott’s Engines. It’s the closest repair shop to here.”
Vienna edges closer to me. “Is it in Bliss?”
“It is,” Officer Nelson replies. “And I know the owner. Max Ellicott. He’s a good guy, and he’ll be straight with you about your car.” Her voice lowers slightly. “He won’t treat you differently just because you’re a woman. Not like some places will.”
Max is another long-time local, and we actually played on the same Little League team when we were kids. Though I haven’t talked to him in nearly a year—not since I had my truck serviced—I make a mental note to call him first thing in the morning to ask him to make Vienna’s car a priority.
“It’s probably totalled,” Officer Hannigan comments while turning to gesture at Vienna’s car.
“Front end all mashed up like that? You’ll need a new engine for sure.
Probably a new transmission as well. And with the structural damage…
” He shakes his head. “I wouldn’t pin your hopes on it being repairable. ”
Vienna flinches like she’s been struck. Her chin wobbles again. “Oh.” Her voice is achingly small. “I’ll have to call the insurance company when I get…” She trails off, looking even more miserable than before.
“We can give you a ride to town,” Officer Nelson says. She gives Officer Hannigan a pointed glare. “And we don’t know what the condition of your car is since we’re not mechanics. Max can go over everything once he’s looked at it.”
Though I’m pissed at Officer Hannigan for being so blunt, I can’t argue with his assessment. I might not be a mechanic, like Max Ellicott, but I restore old snowmobiles, so I know enough about the inner workings of vehicles. And I’d put money on Vienna’s car being a total loss.
Another gust picks up the snow falling around us, turning it into a whirl of white. When it settles, Vienna’s eyelashes are dusted with snowflakes and there’s a fresh layer of snow on her coat. “So,” I urge, “we’re wrapping things up?”
Vienna flashes me a quick look of gratitude.
Officer Nelson looks over at the tow truck driver, who’s now attaching a chain to the back of Vienna’s car. “I’d say so.” She pauses. “Vienna, do you need to get anything from your car before he takes it?”
“Oh, yes.” Vienna holds her purse out to me. “Could you hold this? While I get the bags from my car? Since I don’t have a strap anymore…”
“I can hold it,” Officer Nelson starts.
But I don’t want her to. For some odd reason, I want to accept this small gesture of trust. “I’ve got it.” I take the purse and tuck it under my arm. “I promise not to steal anything. Not with the police right here.”
Vienna stares at me for a second. Her lips curve up. “No, I guess you wouldn’t.” Then she ducks her head and hurries across the road to her car.