Page 26 of No Way Home
Dad’s voice reappeared. “I care about my daughter. I only have one, you know.”
Just then, my wheel jerked left, pulling me across the center line, my life flashing before my eyes as I headed for the opposite ditch. I shrieked, yanking hard right, my heart slamming around in my chest as my car obediently reentered the correct lane.
“What was that?” he snapped. “Maggie?”
“Okay, Dad, you win.” I exhaled slowly, afraid that if I breathed too hard, my car might go skidding again. “I’ll turn around. But just know that if I don’t get into med school, and my dreams of becoming a doctor die with this snowstorm, I will never let you forget it.”
“You can whisper it in my ear on my deathbed. I don’t care. Just as long as…”
The call failed. I sighed and kept going, but only because I was about to run out of gas and I knew there was a gas station four miles ahead. I’d turn around after I filled up.
A half mile later, a snow plow passed going the opposite direction, throwing ice into my lane and my car decided she was done fighting gravity. As I slid off the road, I shrieked again. But no matter how hard I pulled left, the ice pulled harder and then I was in the ditch, the right half of my bumper kissing an embankment.
“Just great.”
I put on my coat, beanie, and gloves and went to check the damage. Icy rain hit me in the face but I walked around thefront of my car anyway. A puff of frustration escaped my lungs when I realized, barring an outright miracle, my Mini lived here now.
But I, Magnolia Wren Hollis, did not give up that easily. So I started to dig. With my hands. Like a caveman. Which was a stupid idea. Because within five minutes, I was soaked to the bone, hands red and raw from the cold. As I walked back around the front of my car to get inside and crank up the heat, the engine died.
“J-just great.” My teeth chattered as I glared at the sky.“You’re t-t-trying to kill me, is that it? Today is my d-day to d-d-die?”
But just then, like God was done laughing at my expense, headlights cut through the precipitation, coming toward me. I looked at the sky again. “Sorry.” Maybe. If this person had the heart to stop.
I was just about to wave the car down when I realized, no, God wasn’t done laughing. He’d just barely begun.
Because I’d recognize that forest green 1983 Toyota Land Cruiser anywhere. Bowen Dupree’s pride and joy. Bo—Griffin’s granddad—always bragged about Bowen’s vehicle. Apparently, Ford—who prided himself on being the fun uncle—gifted all of his nieces and nephews a car on their sixteenth birthday. But not Bowen. He’d wanted a challenge. Instead of a new car, with Ford’s money and Bo’s help, he’d rebuilt that Land Cruiser from the ground up.
Bowen already got way too much mileage out of making fun of my Mini Cooper. Whenever I was at the Duprees’ for holiday dinners or summer barbecues, he’d mutter under his breath, ‘Get a real car, Magnolia. Not that wind-up toy you call a vehicle. If it had less horsepower, it’d be Amish.’ My Mini being in a ditch would only give him more fodder. And Bowen never wasted good material. Not when it came to me.
I dove inside my car and shut the door, praying he’d leave me to die alone.
No such luck. I peeked over the dash to see him slowing to a crawl.
I slid lower in my seat as his vehicle stopped, leaving only enough space between us to open his door. When our eyes met through the glass, my masochistic heart somersaulted in my chest.
He gave me a soft smile and a wave. No judgment in his expression. Oh, Nice Guy Bowen was out today. But I knew better than to believe it would last. It never did. Bowen had more moods than a clique of seventh-grade girls jockeying for a pecking order. The second I lowered my shields, he’d strike where it hurt most.
His hazard lights came on, blinding even in the haze.
I pretended to dig through my purse as he stepped out of his car. “Sh-shields u-up. Do not l-l-lower them,” I whispered to myself.
Why is my voice shaking?
My fingers dug into the seat, waiting. He tapped on the glass, and I turned. He was getting pelted by the sleet, but he stood there like it was nothing. He motioned for me to roll the window down.
“I r-ran out of g-gas!” I called.
So he opened the door, shoved his hands into the pockets of his Carhartt jacket, and ducked down to look at me. His gray eyes matched the sky outside, but they were brighter, happier. I could almost believe he was glad to see me.
“Well, fancy meeting you here.” His soft, deep voice made my stomach purr.Stop it. You’re just happy to see a Dupree. Wouldn’t matter which one it was. But my stomach wouldn’t be doing that for Gramps or Liam or Sophie even.
I smiled at Bowen, shoving down the humiliation of being stranded on the side of the road when I shouldn’t have been out here in the first place. “I w-was t-t-trying to f-finish up some sh-shadowing hours but then the w-weather got-t-t worse.” My teeth wouldn’t stop rattling no matter how hard Itried. His brows puckered and his expression darkened as I continued, “I w-was about t-to t-t-t-turn around and head back-k-k when?—”
“Magnolia, grab your stuff. You’re coming with me.”
“N-no.” My hands shook in my lap. “I’m f-fine.”
He reached across me and grabbed the key from the console. “Seriously, woman. There’s no time for you to be hard-headed. We need to get you somewhere warm. Now.” His head jerked toward his vehicle. “Your lips are turning blue. Let’s go.”
