Page 5 of Puck Love

“Hey, buddy, you want aburger?”I ask Emmett as we drive through the last fast food joint on our way out of town. He shakes his head and stares out the window. I order him one anyway. I’m tired, so I can only imagine how exhausted he is. Meltdowns like that take it out of him. They take it out of everyone, and I’m just glad I was with him instead of my mother because she only winds up coddling him when he wants to be left alone. It’s nothing I can’thandle.

I take the bag from the cashier, shove a handful of fries in my mouth and chew as we head down the highway towards Banff. I savor the grease and salt as I swallow. Goddamn, does that shit taste good. I’ll be paying for it tomorrow, of course. I’ll be sluggish and sick, and probably want to puke all over the ice, but for now, I think I’ve earned it. I scarf down my burger, and by the time I’m done, Emmett is tucking into his. He’s still in a pissy mood, though. I plug my phone into the jack and turn on the music. The same shit we were listening to on the way here: Stella. I think maybe it’ll cheer him up a bit, but he slams his hand against the screen, and the music shuts off. He loves music. I’ve never seen him turn it off before, but I guess I canunderstand.

We drive the rest of the way in silence. The snow is heavy, and even with thirteen years’ experience of driving on icy roads and chains on my Hummer, my hands tighten on the wheel, and I take the corners a little slower than usual. I glance over at my brother before turning onto my road. He’s nodding off, so I reach out and give him a noogie. “Hey, douche knuckle. Don’t go to sleep yet, okay? We're almosthome.”

If there’s one thing that Emmett hates more than a disruption to his routine, it’s being woken up. Despite only being five-foot-one, he’s heavy as a sack of shit. I can’t carry him without fucking up my shoulder evenmore.

He mumbles and shoves my hand away. I continue to poke him because I’m an asshole, and that’s what brothers do. He gets me back in plenty ofways.

“Fuckoff!”

I chuckle. “Dude, I’m not throwing out my shoulder dragging your heavy ass inside again. You gotta wake up, or you’re gonna sleep in the freezing car,eh?

“You’re such an asshole,Van.”

“Love you too, brother.” I grin. I’m so busy looking at him that I almost don’t see the SUV parked in the snowdrift on the side of themountain.

“Lookout!”

I swerve and nearly run us off the edge of the cliff.Thank fuck for my snow chains. My injured arm shoots out to stop my brother from flying into the windshield, and the pain isunbearable.

“Jesus, Fuck!” My heart pounds. Adrenaline and pain trade plays inside me, back and forth as I pant, and my mind reels to make sense of the fact that we both nearlydied.

“Why weren't youwatching?”

I glance at my brother. The sound of the idling engine helps to calm me.We’re still here. We’re alright. “Are youokay?”

“No, dumbass. You nearly killedus.”

“I know. You’re okay, right? Everything still in itsplace?”

“Yep.”

“I gotta go see if the driver needs help.” I throw the beast in park and climb out. Bitter cold slaps my face. The taillights of the SUV glow red against the stark white snow. The engine is still running. The wheels kick up slush and snow, but the car’s not going anywhere. “Stay here,okay?”

My brother doesn’t listen. Instead, he jumps out of the Hummer and runs to the driver’s side of the SUV, attempting to open the door, but there’s a shelf of snow blockingit.

“Em,no!”

“It’s a girl. There’s a girl inhere.”

“Okay, we’ll get her out, but I need you to go back to the car. Turn the heater up full-blast and make sure it’s warm inthere.”

“Okay.” He trudges off and climbs in my vehicle. I want him out of the way because there’s no telling what could happen if that snow shifts. It might bury us all alive, or the whole side of the mountain could slide and take us with it. At least in the car, he’d have a littleprotection.

I open the back door of the SUV. I’m hit with the stench of blood and booze.Jesus. I climb through to the backseat and lean through the gap. A woman’s face is squashed against the airbag. She’s bleeding from the head. “Miss. Can you hearme?”

She moans. I press my fingers to her neck, checking for a pulse. It’s strong. I lean across and turn the car off so it won’t overheat, and I won’t accidently shift gears while I’m attempting to get herout.

“Can youmove?”

She groans but sits back from her crouched position around the steering wheel. There’s a small cut on her forehead, but it doesn’t look dire. Head wounds always bleed like a motherfucker, and her face and hair are caked with blood, but so far she looks to be in one piece. There’s a half-empty bottle of whiskey on the passenger seat. It’s all I can smell in the cab, and on her breath. JesusChrist.

“Sit tight. I’m going to call for anambulance.”

“No,” she murmurs. “No ambulance. I’mokay.”

She’s definitely notokay.

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