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“When’s the last time you were up there? Is the road open?”
“I don’t know, maybe three weeks ago. We haven’t had much snow since, so I’m sure it’s open.”
“Do you need to let anyone know you’re leaving again?”
“Nobody saw me, except Bree. She won’t say anything.”
“Why not?”
“Because she was the one who insisted I tell you I wished you hadn’t left.”
Tucker nodded his head and took Blythe’s hand in his. “Let’s go.” He led her back through the woods to where he’d left his truck.
What would he say? He wanted to talk, but where should he start? He wanted more in his life; he wanted Blythe to wipe away the bad and replace it with good. He’d spent so many years believing he was incapable of loving or being loved by a woman that, now, he didn’t know how to ask for it. It was his damage, as Jace called it.
His brother felt it, that’s how Jace knew how to name it. Tucker was damaged. He hadn’t allowed himself to consider it would be possible to repair his heart, or his soul. But since he’d met Blythe, he’d felt hope. Even in the light of a tragedy that hit too close, he’d felt hope.
She was quiet, looking out the window as he made his way toward the remote mountain road. She’d practically begged him to come back to the house, to give her another chance. Now that he had, she was waiting for him to talk, to tell her what was so important that her unwillingness to hear him had set him off, made him angry, made him leave.
He was scared; that was the truth of it. What would happen when he talked about the one thing he vowed he never would? Allowing himself to share his past would mean the wound would be ripped open. Would he be able to get through it without breaking down? He doubted it. And when he did, how would Blythe react? Particularly now. She hadn’t had any time to process through the grief of the last week. Would she take on his pain too, the way she had her sister’s?
No matter what, he couldn’t start talking until he found a place to pull off the road.
“You turn here,” she said so softly he almost missed it. The paved portion of the road ended, replaced by rough, washboard-ridden dirt. Snow was piled on either side, but the road itself was clear.
When he rounded the bend, the last thing he expected was another car coming from the opposite direction and driving down the center of the narrow road, just like he was.
When he tried to swerve to miss it, his truck hit a patch of ice and careened off into the woods. He frantically tried to turn into it, to keep from skidding further, but he couldn’t stop. His truck hit a rock, and he knew they were going to roll. He looked at Blythe. Her terror-filled eyes bored into his. He knew that look. He’d seen it before. The nightmare was repeating itself.
11
Tucker opened his eyes and looked around. He tried to move, but his body wasn’t responding to the demands his brain was making. The truck was on an angle, the passenger side, closest to the ground. Blythe’s back was to him. She was face down, as though she was looking out the window. He couldn’t tell whether or not she was breathing.
The last thing he remembered was the sob of anguish he released, right before the darkness engulfed him again.
When he woke again, he was in a hospital bed. The sights and sounds were hauntingly familiar. He raised his head. Pain. Horrible pain. He felt as though his head was in a vice. He closed his eyes against it.
Blythe. Oh God, what had happened to Blythe? He forced his eyes back open and saw Jace, asleep in the chair next to the bed. He tried to speak, but his mouth was dry and his throat closed up. He could only get out a hoarse sound.
He cleared his throat and tried again. “Jace.” This time it was loud enough that his brother woke and stood, coming closer to the bed.
“Hey, man,” he said, his own voice clouded with sleep. “How’re you doin’?”
“Blythe?”
The flash of a wince on his brother’s face told him more than he wanted to know. He had to know the rest. “How bad is it?”
“She’s in surgery.”
“Answer me. How bad?”
“It’s bad, Tuck.”
There came the darkness again. This time he welcomed it.
Jace drove up the mountain road, behind the tow truck.
He wasn’t sure what he’d find, but at the very least, he had to get his brother’s personal stuff out of his vehicle. He’d made arrangements with the insurance company to have the damage assessed. Damage. There was that word again.
