Everyone except Ivy.
His speedometer held at twenty-five—fast enough to make ground, slow enough to maintain control. That’s what she needed from him right now, even though the urge to tramp his foot on the gas was overwhelming.
The wipers beat a rapid rhythm, each swipe revealing the same ghostly world—white on white, broken only by the looming black of trees.
If something happens to her?—
The thought cut like shrapnel. He’d been so wrapped up in wanting her, in the heat of that kiss, he hadn’t seen how scared she was. Maybe she’d been right to bolt. Maybe he was exactly the kind of man she should run from.
He gripped the wheel harder, forcing the doubt down. No, he knew what he’d seen in her eyes. Hunger. Longing. The fragile spark of trust.
He threw up a prayer to whatever powers might be listening.Just let her be safe. Let me find her safe. I’ll figure out the rest later.
He crested a small rise, headlights sweeping across a curve tricky to navigate even in daylight above a steep shoulder dropping into pines.
There—cutting through the storm like an open wound—a faint red glow.
Taillights.
“Shit.” He eased off the gas, eyes locked on the dim, flickering crimson. Too weak and stationary. Not a car pulled safely aside, but the dying pulse of a vehicle in trouble.
Please be someone else. Anyone else.
The thought gutted him, guilt blasting in a second later. What kind of man wished harm on a stranger? But terror didn’t leave room for logic. Not when Ivy could be lying broken in the snow.
He pulled onto the shoulder, his hazard lights strobing through the storm. Popping the glove box, he grabbed his first aid kit, rescue tool, and thermal blanket. Everything he might need if this was bad. He grabbed it all and hit the ground running, boots crunching through a drift.
His flashlight cut a jagged path through the dark and caught on twisted metal.
The rental lay on its side against a massive pine, driver’s side down. Steam rose in ghostly plumes from the crushed hood. Alaska plates. Enterprise sticker on the glass.
Ivy’s car.
“God, no.” His breath ripped out in a cloud.
He ran harder, the light skittering across shattered glass glittering like icy stars. Antifreeze burned his nose, sharp and acrid, layered with gasoline. The cooling engine ticked, eerie in the hush between wind gusts. He forced his breathing quiet. Training slammed into place, fast and merciless.
Assess. Prioritize. Execute.
Fuel spill—moderate risk, cold slowing evaporation. Vehicle stabilized by the pine. Passenger side accessible.
He kept moving, phone in hand, dialing without thought.
“911, what’s your emergency?”
“Motor vehicle accident, Route 47. Two miles east of Daniel Road. Single-vehicle rollover, one occupant, status unknown.Fuel leak present, no fire at this time. Request paramedics and fire rescue, priority response.”
“Sir, are you?—?”
He ended the call. Help was coming, but too slow.
He dropped to his knees by the passenger side, flashlight beam cutting through spider-webbed glass. Airbags, twisted metal. No movement.
Then his light found her.
Ivy.
Slumped against the driver’s door, seatbelt pinning her in place. Head tilted at a sickening angle.Fuck.She looked like?—
