Page 97 of First Chance

Her hairline is clean of any debris, her forehead is bare of any scratches. My thumb traces across each eyebrow and down the bridge of her nose, along her cheekbones, and the length of her jaw. She’s fine, not a mark anywhere.

She’s okay.

“I didn’t think it would ever stop,” her voice wavers.

I pull her in again, kissing the top of her head. Breathing her in. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

I give her just enough room to walk, keeping my arm anchored around her shoulders. I’m not sure what to expect when I open the door, but I brace myself for it regardless.

“Oh, no,” she cries. “The Bronco.”

Small branches are scattered atop the truck that blew infrom nearby trees, but the worst of it is a dent in the roof, and the quarter glass above the side mirror on the driver’s side is smashed out.

Overall, not that bad. “It’s okay, it’s drivable.”

She continues to stress about the state of the truck as I usher her in from my side. “Your grandfather’s car. God, it’s all my fault. You came to rescue me, and now it’s messed up.”

“It’s fine.”

“No, it’s not fine. I ruin everything, I destroy everything I touch. Now, your car.” She squeezes her eyes shut, and I think she’s spiraling into a panic attack, but my truck isn’t truly the culprit.

“Look at me.” I grab her face and bring her in close. “Jo, look at me, dammit.”

She does, blinking her wide eyes at my face until she actually focuses on me.

“I don’t give a shit about the truck.” She blinks once, twice. “I don’t care about the truck. I would do it a thousand times over.”

“What?”

“I don’t care about the truck,” I emphasize, pressing my forehead to hers.

“Okay.” She nods, holding back her tears.

I tuck her into my side, holding her close as I back us off the sidewalk and onto the pavement, crushing limbs and trash under my tires as we hit the main road again.

It’s dark now, and we’re most of the way up the mountain when my headlights catch an obstruction in the road. “Shit.”

“What?” She leans forward, finally noticing.

“Let me get out and look.” A giant spruce tree fell across the roadway, blocking our path completely. There are culvertsfull of rainwater on either side of the road. I can’t drive around, and this is the only road up to the sanctuary.

“What do we do?” She asks when I get back in the truck.

“I’ll get the guys to bring chainsaws to cut it and tow it out of the way, but for now, we’re stuck.” I blow a breath out.

Any other day I might be pissed about this type of situation but I can’t find it in me to care. After almost being blown away in a tornado, all I care about is that she’s safe.

I call Hayes while I stare introspectively out the window at a tree that won’t be moving anytime soon, and when I hang up, I realize how silent she is.

Her legs are curled up in the passenger seat, and she’s hugging her knees, shivering from head to toe. Her clothes are still wet from being rained on, and now her adrenaline is waning.

“Come here,” I demand, tugging her into my lap and cranking the heat. She comes willingly, curling up across my legs as if she’s done it a million times.

I hold her, circling my arms around her like my life depends on it, because it does. Her comfort is more important than my need to breathe as I pull her tighter to my chest.

Even after the trimmers ease and I feel her body relax further into mine, I don’t loosen my grip or wipe away the sweat trickling down the side of my face. If she’s content, then I’m not doing anything to mess it up.

“Do you regret coming to get me?” She whispers suddenly. When I look down at her, she’s already looking at me.

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