“Can you see any crossroads or landmarks?”
Leo looked out the window. Nothing but corn and the back end of the deer.
“There’s a dead deer,” he said. “Does that count?”
She took his membership number and told him to stay in the vehicle with his hazards on. A tow truck would be dispatched from the nearest affiliated garage. Estimated arrival: thirty to forty minutes.
Leo turned on his hazards. The clicking sound was the only thing breaking the silence. He flexed his hands open and closed, open and closed.
He should call someone to figure out what you needed to do when an animal jumped out in front of you and mangled your car. His mother would panic. Phil would tell him it was outside the scope of his duties. Neither of them could do anything about the fact that he was sitting alone on a county road at midnight in a state he didn’t choose, smelling like a bar he shouldn’t have gone to, waiting for a tow truck.
He tossed his phone onto the passenger seat.
A second deer stepped out of the field with its head up and its eyes catching the headlights. Two flat disks of green stared at Leo through the cracked windshield before the deer turned and disappeared back into the stalks.
His phone buzzed.
Unknown
On my way. 20 min. Stay in the car and pull it to the shoulder if you’re able with the hazards on.
He typed backThanks, deleted it, typedCool,deleted that too, and put the phone down. This wasn’t someone expecting him to be a great conversationalist.
He waited. A car passed going the other direction, slowing when its headlights caught the deer, then speeding up again. Leo watched the taillights disappear.
Headlights appeared behind him. Big, high, slowing down. Leo shoved the door open and got out, his legs stiff from sitting too long, and stood in the road with his arms crossed while a truck pulled up and flooded the scene with light.
The figure that came around the side was broad-shouldered and unhurried, flashlight sweeping the road in a clean arc that found the deer, the debris, the Audi’s crumpled hood. The beam swung up and caught Leo full in the face, and he squinted and put a hand up.
The flashlight dropped.
“Leo?”
Leo’s stomach churned. Of course the universe would decide to kick him while was down. “You’re kidding me.”
Dawson came closer, flashlight angled down now. His eyes moved over Leo’s face, and Leo watched them stop on something. His forehead, maybe, or his cheek. Something Leo couldn’t feel yet, thanks to the adrenaline. He winced when he reached up and felt the abraded skin from where the airbag punched him.
“You hurt?”
“No.” His chest ached where the airbag had caught him and his left wrist throbbed when he flexed it. “I’m fine.”
Dawson didn’t look convinced. He stepped past Leo and circled the Audi with the flashlight, crouching at the front end, runninghis hand along the bumper. When he came back, his face had shifted from concern to skilled assessment.
“Radiator’s done. Hood’s going to need work, and the bumper.” He clicked the flashlight off. “The good news is it’s not actually as bad as it looks.”
“That’s the good news?”
“Yep. Stay out of the way while I load it.”
Leo took a step back and watched Dawson work. Jeans, a T-shirt he’d probably pulled on in a hurry, a high-vis vest over it that caught the light every time he moved. He worked the winch and the chains with the same unhurried efficiency Leo had seen at the tractor pull, and the Audi crawled up the ramp with a groan of damaged metal.
Leo watched Dawson’s hands on the winch controls and thought about the guy at the bar whose hand on his thigh had done nothing. Dawson hooked a chain to a tow point, not even looking at him, and Leo’s mouth went dry.
He was so fucked.
Dawson secured the car and came back, pulling a rag from his pocket to wipe his hands.
“So what’s the bad news?” Leo asked.
