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But I can’t. Not if I won’t even run for mayor. Hell, I don’t even want to be mayor. Not anymore. That was an old dream. It died a long time ago. Right around the time my marriage died.
So I need to quit being a judgmental asshole. My mayoral aspiration is one of the main things I let go of when I lost Alana. I need to do myself a favor and quit making a stink over every one of the current mayor’s shortcomings.
Unless it’s a matter of safety. Or public health. Or local crime rates.
Dammit. There I go again.
Whatever. I’m staying out of it.
I stab at the radio, turning on some music to help drown out my thoughts. I need to stay focused on the stormy road trip ahead of me.
I’m about an hour out of town when I realize that my GPS isn’t working. I fiddle with it a bit before ultimately restarting the whole app. It still doesn’t bring up my route. Or any route for that matter. The storm probably knocked out one of the main cell towers, which means I am shit out of luck if I get lost.
Crap. Why didn’t I print out the step by step directions, like the good ole days? I mean, I do know better.
I turn down the radio, ensuring I’m extra vigilant and watching the traffic signs, so I don’t miss my next exit. Wouldn’t that be a hoot…a chief deputy sheriff making the daily headlines for getting lost.
A few miles later, through my rain-blurred windshield, I notice bright red tail lights blinking from the side of the road. It’s hard to see clearly, but it looks like the car is stopped there a little haphazardly, not as though they parked there intentionally. A tow truck is already on the scene, providing the driver with assistance, it seems.
My police instincts kick in as I spot broken glass in the road, making me want to pull over and help out, but I’ve got to remind myself that I’m just a civilian right now. I’m not on duty, this is way outside my jurisdiction, and I’d just be in everyone’s way.So I slow down as a courtesy, planning to give them a wide berth as I drive on by.
But for some reason, the scene grips my attention and refuses to let go. I slow my vehicle down even more.
When I’m close enough to see that it’s a silver Volkswagen SUV sitting askew on the shoulder of the road, I’m instantly on high alert. Trying to ignore my gut reaction, I tell myself to quit it. To stop overreacting. To stop worrying.
Except…She was supposed to be driving up to Crescent Harbor today, wasn’t she?What if it’s her? What if she’s not okay? What if—
Thousands of people drive silver Volkswagens. Hundreds have probably driven on this very highway today. Those are some lottery odds that it would be Alana here on the side of this road. Of course it’s not Alana.
Plus, she’s a cautious driver.
Never been in an accident.
Not even a little fender bender.
It’s not Alana.
Only then, I notice the bumper sticker.I heart anything with paws.And the license plate. And—
The adrenaline comes gushing in like a roaring wave.
The air is sucked out of my lungs as I dart my eyes around, searching for answers. Searching for Alana. I’m suddenly not sure if it’s a good sign—or a godawful one—that there aren’t any emergency vehicles on the scene.
Finally, my eyes find a familiar blonde bundled up in a soaking wet sweatshirt, speaking to the tow truck driver in the rain.
Chest hammering louder than a construction site, I slow my Jeep to a complete stop on the side of the road.
I’m telling myself to keep calm. But I jump out of the vehicle, barely managing to put the gear in park before I rush through the rain toward my ex-wife.
My boots crunch over shards of glass as I move in her direction. “Alana!” I shout, announcing myself before I make it to her side.
Her head shoots up as I approach. I watch her eyes widen and her chest expand on a huge breath of surprise. “Davis!”
“What happened?” I demand, my hand reaching for her elbow before I can stop myself.
She looks taken aback at the mere sight of my hand moving toward her. She stumbles a step backward.
Embarrassed, I drop my arm.
