Page 56 of Major Love

And I’m about ten minutes into the drive when a loudcrackbooms through the air, so at odds with the beautiful sky and the twinkling forest arching over the truck.

I hold my breath and pause.What the heck was that?

I know that the weather app suggested a storm this afternoon, but right now doesn’t look like blizzard conditions.

I blink toward the treetops and my eyes widen, because whatever that was… it didn’t sound like thunder. And despite the conflicting weather warnings, this wintery morning has been quiet and still.

I go even slower on the accelerator, ignoring the four-by-four that races past me, and I keep my hands tight around the wheel, totally focused on the road ahead.

I mean, thunder aside –ifthat was even thunder – the landscape is beautiful, with sparkling snow piles on either side of the road. I’m actually enjoying myself until I hear the secondcrack.

I grip the wheel nervously as I try to work out where the sound is coming from.

And that’s when I realise another thing: the fact that the sound isstillcoming.

As in, the crackinghasn’t stopped.

I flick my eyes to the right and swallow my gasp, blinking quickly as one of the younger evergreens sways, a huge split in its middle indicating where the sound is coming from.

It may have been a long time since I was living in a small town in the lower mountains, but I’m instantly a teenager again and Cash is telling Casey and me about the perils of the stunning landscape.

And I’m instantly mapping out what’s happening and what I need to do.

I’m not sure if the tree was hit by something or if the weight of the snow on its upper branches has caused it to bend. But what I do know is that if I don’t hit the pedal, I’m either going to get trapped behind it – and God knows how long it’ll take the mountain rangers to help me pass it –orI’ll be hitting the same patch of road as its truck-crushing trunk. Meaning that I’ll be right beneath it when the evergreen snaps.

It's a no brainer.

I hit the freaking pedal.

The truck flies down the blacktop and my eyes flash toward the tree, my cowgirl boot murdering the gas as the pine falls in slow motion. It lookswaytaller up close than it did at a distance so I flick my eyes back to the road, swallowing down my shaky inhalations.

And I shove down the accelerator as hard as I can.

I wince in fear as the tree snaps, streaking past it before it hits the blacktop, and then the second that I hear its deafening thud my heart races into overdrive.

“Oh my God,” I rasp, overcome with relief. Because not only did I not get stranded behind the giant evergreen, but I also didn’t getflattenedby it because it’s absolutelyenormous.

I’m so overwhelmed with shock that I can’t resist peeking back at it in my wingmirror, my fingers shaking as I dry my cheeks with the back of my hand.

Wow,I can’t help but think to myself.Casey can literally never find out about this.

Had I stopped the truck instead of racing past the pine, then I would have definitely been stranded up here for who knows how many hours. I’m half tempted to check my phone, just to prove to myself that there really would have been no service, but given the fact that it hasn’t vibrated with an incoming text for the whole morning, I already know that that’s the case.

I breathe out a nervous laugh, my heartbeat going crazy as I give the evergreen one last look.

“Well,” I whisper raspily, just before I turn my attention back to the road. “It could’ve gone worse–”

But I don’t finish my sentence as my body tenses and I gasp.

An elk and her young step straight in front of the bumper, and I instantly spin the truck to the left, speeding off the blacktop. Right into the snow-covered forest, the tires spinning so that I don’t hit the wildlife.

The wheels bump and jolt over the frozen terrain, my senses more alert than ever before as I bite back my fear and force the truck to a hasty stop.

The vehicle undulates and then drops, a medium-sized snow-pile built up on the bumper, and after a moment of sheer silence I drop my shaking hands into my lap.

I blink out of the windshield in total silence, my cheeks flushed as adrenaline courses through me, and my lips part in shock as I take in the magnitude of what has just happened.

No cell service, no satellite phone, and I’m now stuck in a snow-jammed truck.

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