Page 32 of Found by the Pack

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I gasp now, knuckles white around the steering wheel, the memory so vivid I almost feel it. The burn of rejection. The ache of being left like that. Unclaimed. Humiliated.

I never mentioned it to Max because technically, Scott was his boss.

Don’t cry again. You already did that.

My phone buzzes.

I glance down.

Scott.

I don’t even think. My fingers scramble for the device, unlocking it to shut the damn thing off?—

And that’s when I see it.

A blur of movement. A squirrel darting across the road.

Shit.

I swerve without thinking. My tires skid. The right side of my truck tips.

Then—impact.

Metal crunches. Glass cracks.

My head slams into the side window. My vision goes black for half a second.

When it comes back, everything is sideways.

I’m in a ditch.

Rain drizzles softly against the windshield, and for a moment, I just sit there. Stunned. My pulse thunders in my ears.

The smell of wet leaves filters in through the crack in my window.

My fingers are numb. My right temple throbs. And somewhere, just beneath the noise, my phone is still buzzing.

He’s calling again.

I let out a choked breath. My vision swims.

“Stop,” I whisper. “Just stop.”

I lean my head back against the seat and close my eyes. I want to sleep. Just for a minute.

But then I think of the firemen in this town. The quiet way Gabe looked at me. The way Boone brought me lunch. The warmth in Shepard’s voice when he handed me cocoa.

This is not like Memphis.

They are not like them.

I whisper it out loud, trying to make myself believe it.

“I’m safe. I’m safe.”

I blink up at the cracked windshield.

And breathe.

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