Page 116 of And Now, Back to You

“Lord, no,” Dustin laughs, big and booming. “I’m not gonna take an eighteen-wheeler for a joyride after a snow event. Specially not with precious cargo.” He gives me a watered-down glare, like I suggested we strap Delilah to the top of a rocket and launch her back to Baltimore. “Drivers who pass through this area are a tight-knit group, though, and I know a few of the private clearing companies. Big business out here, you know, with all the snowfall. With the county folks as busy as they are, it leaves quite the gap for private industries to fill. If you ask me, more of the municipalities should—”

I stretch my neck to the side, impatient. “Dustin.”

“Ah, yep. Anyway. I know two guys—Brooks and Brent. Brothers, you know. They owe me a favor from the summer of ’82. They’ve got a real sweet grader that could get you out to the main roads.”

Hope blooms, fierce and quick. “Are they available? Can you give them a call? I’m happy to pay.”

Dustin waves me off. “Nah. You don’t have to pay. It would be my honor to help Miss Delilah.” He straightens, his chest puffed out. A loyal soldier, ready to slay any dragons standing in Delilah’s path. “I already gave them a call. They’ll be here in an hour or so.”

I blow out a heavy breath, relief making my head feel buzzy. “Dustin, I could kiss you.”

He slips his hat back over his head. “I’d really prefer it if you didn’t.”

“Noted.” I turn toward Lottie. “You think you could pack me up some of those powdered doughnuts to go?”

She smiles. “Of course.”

When I finally make it upstairs after coordinating with Mark and Dustin and Brooks and Brent—who finish each other’s sentences and prefer to communicate by screaming directly into the phone—Delilah is sitting in the middle of the floor, her suitcase a small explosion around her. The only things she has packed are her emotional support bag of candy and one of my sweaters she must have pulled out of my bag. She looks up at me with big, tear-filled eyes, her mouth trying to twist its way into a smile.

“I’m having trouble,” she tells me, her voice thick.

“That’s okay,” I tell her. This is the Delilah no one else gets to see. The one who feels safe enough to let me see some of her cracks. I put down the bag of doughnuts. “I can help.”

She sighs and looks at her suitcase, her cheeks wet. “I’m really sad,” she whispers.

“That’s okay too.” I meet her on the floor and cup her face with my hands, tilting it toward mine, wiping away her tears with my thumbs. She keeps her eyes closed, her forehead scrunched. I press a kiss right there until it eases. Until she’s looped her hands around my wrists and tucked her face into my neck. “I’m going to take you home now, okay?”

She doesn’t ask any questions. She just nods. Fully and wholly trusting me to do what I said I would.

Take care of her.

WEATHER ADVISORY: ROADWAYS AND BRIDGES MAY BE ICED OVER. USE CAUTION WHEN TRAVELING.

CHAPTER 29

DELILAH

“This feels like the opposite of those tornado chasers,” I murmur, my forehead pressed against the glass of the window. “The highest speed we hit was twenty-five, and that’s only because we were going down a hill.”

Jackson is white-knuckling the steering wheel of the news van, his jaw tight. “I’ll take twenty-five over eighty and a ditch.”

I snort a laugh I don’t really feel.

It makes me nauseous to stare out the windshield when the conditions are so awful, so I close my eyes instead. Except when I close my eyes, all I see is my grandpa alone and bleeding. My grandpa, calling for help and no one coming. A lot of blood, the nurse on the phone had said.

“Any updates?” Jackson asks.

I shake my head. “Just that they’ve taken him to the University of Maryland Medical Center and that he’s awake and responsive.” But I don’t know if he’s confused. If he’s scared. If he’s asking for me. “Do you think you could drop me off there?”

Jackson sneaks a quick look at me, his blue eyes impossibly kind. “Yeah, Delilah. Whatever you need.”

Whatever I need. That’s more or less been his motto since I dropped that plate in the lobby of the lodge. He’s rearranged our work schedules, packed our bags, somehow bribed a snowplow to clear our way out of Western Maryland while I’ve been . . . utterly useless.

More tears press behind my eyes. “I’m—I’m sorry about all of this. I should be—”

“Delilah,” he cuts me off. Somehow gentle and firm, all at once. Exactly what I need. “Let me take care of you. Okay?”

I nod. Whisper okay. Wipe a few more pathetic tears off my cheeks.