Page 36 of Holding On To Good

Verity sat behind the wheel of her car, the engine running, her hands shaking, foot still pressing the brake.

Crap. Crap, crap, crapola, crap.

It all happened so fast. One minute she was driving along, going barely five miles above the speed limit. Both hands on the wheel, she’d been alert and focused and careful.

Then a dog ran out in front of her.

Heart in her throat, she’d slammed on the brakes and jerked the wheel to the right.

And now she was stuck in a ditch on the side of a road.

A road she wasn’t, technically, supposed to be on. But when she’d finished work and read Urban’s text about him staying at Willow’s for a while, she’d decided to swing by Jeremy’s party. Only long enough to say hi to everyone before going home, with Urban none the wiser.

Look how well that plan had worked out.

She hung her head. Tapped it a few times against the steering wheel. Yep. So dead.

Except she wasn’t dead. Surely Urban couldn’t be upset about her being not dead.

Chewing her lower lip, she lifted her head and stared through narrowed eyes out the windshield. This wasn’t so bad. Yes, she was stuck but she wasn’t hurt. And her car was still running.

There were many reasons to rejoice.

And even a few reasons to hope she could still make an appearance at Jeremy’s then get home, unscathed and undisciplined.

She sat up and pressed the gas pedal. The tires spun… and spun… and spun.

“Is this your way of telling me I shouldn’t go to that party?” she asked God. “Because you could have just said so.”

Okay, change of plans. No party. She’d turn around, stop by Sparkling Auto on the way, and wash her car to get rid of any evidence… er… mud… and be on her merry way home.

As soon as she figured out how to get unstuck.

Songbird Lane was a narrow road that twisted and turned through the woods on the outskirts of town. Jeremy’s grandparents’ house, the last on the dead-end street, was a good mile and a half away, and while there were other houses lining the road, they were few and far between.

She could wait for someone to drive by then flag them down for help, but who knew how long that could take? It wasn’t exactly a main thoroughfare, and from the posts she’d seen on Snapchat and Instagram, all her friends were already at the party.

She supposed she could text her best friend Emory, but Verity had told her she couldn’t go to the party because she’d gotten called into work. Had planned on using the excuse of being tired for not staying long so she could get home without Urban knowing she’d disobeyed him.

And without her friends finding out she’d been forbidden from attending said party.

It wasn’t actually that big of a deal, but still. Her friends never got in trouble or had their driving privileges revoked or restricted. They stayed out as late as they wanted, partied as often as they liked and basically led their own lives.

Must be nice.

The better option would be to just call Urban. Admit she’d been on her way to a party he’d specifically told her she wasn’t to attend and risk him taking away her car for the rest of the summer.

Ugh. That wasn’t better at all.

She looked in her rearview mirror. The road behind her was dark and empty, and while she couldn’t see it, there was a driveway about a quarter mile back. One that led to the single-wide mobile home where Reed Walsh lived.

Reed Walsh. Her possible salvation.

Not an idea she’d ever have considered before but there you had it.

Desperate times and all that.

Of course, he might not even be home. Probably wasn’t. It was after ten on a Saturday night, and while Reed was known as many things—troublemaker, juvenile delinquent, rebel without any discernible cause—she doubted homebody was one of them.

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