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“Thedirectionsappsaysthis isn’t the right way.” Shea keeps her voice calm as she points this out to Linc for the second time. In the backseat, Declan and I share a glance but stay quiet.
“Shea, we used to drive this road all the time. You know this is the right way to go.” He squints through the windshield. The windshield wipers are at their highest speed.
“That’s not what our technological overlords say,” she shoots back, waving the phone at him.
Outside the windows, I can barely make out the western New Jersey mountains around us. The snow falls so thick it’s hard to see the road over twenty yards in front of us. We’re creeping along at a snail’s pace, and everyone’s tense. I grew up in the city. Maybe that’s why I hate driving in the snow.
“The way it wants us to go will put us into the hills, on one-lane roads.” Concern tightens Linc’s features. “I think they’ll keep the highway roads clearer, don’t you?”
“Maybe. But this—,” she waves her phone at him again, “—says that if we stay on the highway, we’ll stop for an extended period up ahead.” She points at the screen. “The road is red, Linc. Red.”
He scowls, but she holds the phone out. We’re going slow. He glances at the screen, confirming what she said. His brow drops and his jaw firms. Finally, he sighs. “Does it say to exit at the next one?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay.” Linc hits the turn signal, and we edge into the exit lane. The ramp is on a decline. As we head toward the stop sign at the end, the car slides. Linc holds the brake, steering into the slide. Under us, the anti-lock brakes kick in, but it isn’t enough to stop us. We skid off the shoulder, into the embankment, and stop with a jolt.
We’re all wearing seatbelts, but the impact jostled everything else in the car. The contents of my purse cover the backseat and floor.
Shea reaches over and turns off the radio. Like that caused our accident.
My heart pounds as we sit in silence. Declan has a death grip on my fingers. “Are you okay?” he asks me. His eyes are wide and panicked.
I nod. “Yes,” I whisper. Clearing my throat, I try again with more force. “I’m fine. Seatbelt. And we weren’t going fast.” He scans me as if verifying that I’m not lying. “Seriously. Fine.” Satisfied, he exhales, running a hand over his face.
Linc turns in his seat to stare at us. “Are you two okay?”
We both nod and answer in the affirmative. Satisfied, he grips the steering wheel hard and then runs a hand through his hair. “Shit. Shit, shit, shit.”
Turning off the engine, he opens the door, and a gust of frigid air blows in. He pulls gloves out of his pockets and tucks his hands in. “I’m going to see how it looks out there.”
“Let me come with…” Shea starts, but Linc shakes his head.
“How high are the heels on your boots, Tiny?” Linc scowls at her.
She glares at him. “It’s only a two inches wedge.”
“Two inches too high. You’ll hurt yourself. You should stay,” he says. Shea holds his gaze, but he doesn’t back down. She finally sighs, crossing her arms over her chest. Shea might not be a tall girl, but she’s got enough feisty in her slight frame to make up for it.
“I’ll go with you,” Declan offers over the noise of the wind, unbuckling his seatbelt.
Linc leans back in. “Stay here. I got this.” He glances at Shea and me, and some unspoken dude conversation happens. Declan nods, settling back in his seat, as Linc closes the door.
Shea shakes her head, muttering. “I’ve designed entire buildings. I could assess how bad the damage was here. And I walk in shoes all the time.” Leaning down, she reaches down to her feet, pulling the stuff off the floor and shoving it back in her own overturned bag. “Neanderthal behavior.” She makes a tsking noise.
I glance at Declan, and he shrugs, his eyes wide, as he mouths, “Yikes.”
The situation is nuts—scary even—but I smother a chuckle. That’s what Declan does. He makes even the worst things better, just being who he is. I don’t want Shea to see me grinning, so I lean down to scoop up the stuff from my purse.
That’s when I see the velvet box. I snatch it up and open it. Inside is the most beautiful round solitaire. I gasp, then swat Declan’s arm. He’s busy staring out the window at Linc, who’s circling the car with his hands on his hips. When he finally looks at me, his eyes flick between my palm, where the box lays, to my face and back.
He opens his mouth to say something, and I wave my hand, shushing him. I point at Shea with wide eyes, shaking my head. I don’t want her to see that we’ve found her ring. Then I shove the box at him and motion out the door to where Linc paces. “Give it back to him,” I hiss.
Declan’s usually a sharp guy. He’s always quick with a comeback and has something witty to say about everything. Right now, he stares at me, his mouth wide open. Why is he acting so clueless? Leaving this out of Linc’s hands with his soon-to-be fiance in the seat in front of us is just dangerous.
Declan’s eyes fall closed, and he shakes his head, his fingers closing on the box. “No.”
I cast a terrified glance at Shea. “Declan, hush.”
