Page 34 of Noel Secrets
“Can I help you folks?” he asked, his voice rough, like gravel.
Michael’s hand hovered protectively near her back. “Sir, our car’s got a flat. The storm’s too bad to fix it on the road, and we don’t have anywhere safe to go.” His tone was polite but laced with urgency. “We were hoping…maybe you’d let us come in out of the cold for a while.”
The old man studied them for a long beat, his gaze flicking to the road behind them, then back. Finally, he sighed, stepping aside. “Get in before you freeze solid.”
Relief surged through Jayda as she stepped into the warmth of the house. The smell of wood smoke and old pine filled her nose, heat from a cast-iron stove wrapping around her frozen limbs. She almost sagged against the wall.
“I’m Chuck,” the man said, closing the door behind them. He glanced between the two of them with a squint.
“I’m Michael Blair, and this is Jayda. Thank you so much, sir.”
“Couple of young folks out in this mess—it’s no good. Where you two headed?”
Michael answered before Jayda could. “Missouri. We were supposed to meet up with family, catch a train in Kansas City. But with the car…” he trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck.
Chuck’s brow furrowed, then softened. “Train station, huh? I can take you there. Got a truck that’ll handle this weather better than any car.”
Jayda blinked. “You’d do that? Just…drive strangers through a snowstorm? It’s at least six hours from here.”
He shrugged, settling into a worn recliner near the stove to put his boots on. “Storm this bad, people look out for each other. Ain’t no sense leaving you out there to freeze. Besides—” his lips twitched into a small smile—“I like a good drive in the snow.”
Jayda exchanged a stunned glance with Michael. She could see the same surprise mirrored in his eyes but also gratitude.
“Thank you,” Michael said sincerely. “That means more than you know.”
Chuck waved him off. “Don’t thank me yet. Roads are bad, and it’ll take time. Can’t guarantee you’ll make your train, but I’ll get you there and do my best.”
The ride in Chuck’s old truck was tight and cold. The cab was small, forcing the three of them close together on the bench seat, and the frosty air seeped through the seams despite the heater’s best effort. Michael took the middle, Jayda by the door, and outside, the storm raged. Flakes whirled in chaotic bursts across the windshield. The wipers worked furiously to keep up.
Chuck hummed softly to himself, hands steady on the wheel, as though he’d driven through a hundred blizzards before.
Jayda tried to stay alert, but exhaustion clawed at her. Every muscle ached, her eyelids growing heavier with each passing mile. She felt the warmth of Michael’s arm brushing hers, inviting her to sleep.
“You holding up?” he murmured, leaning close so only she could hear.
She nodded, though it was half a lie. Her body felt as if it were made of lead. “Yeah. Just tired.”
“Close your eyes,” he whispered. “Rest. I’ll keep watch.”
Her heart clenched at the caring protectiveness in his words. She wanted to resist, to insist on staying vigilant, independent, but the truth was she trusted him. More than she should. More than she’d ever thought she would.
Her head dipped against his shoulder. His arm shifted, wrapping around her, anchoring her.
“You really think we’ll make it?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
“I do,” he whispered back. “Because we’re in this together. And I won’t let anything happen to you, Jayda. I’ll get you home. I promise.”
Home. Did she dare hope for such a thing?God, I want to go home.
Her eyes fluttered shut with the prayer on the tongue, and for the first time since the chaos began, she let herself rest.
Michael looked down at Jayda, at the delicate rise and fall of her chest. For once, her features weren’t hardened with wit or sarcasm. She looked like her younger, more vulnerable self again. The girl he remembered being dropped off at his house. He felt guilt twist in his gut.
“Greta used to rest like that,” Chuck said quietly, a smile tugging faintly at his mouth. “Right against my shoulder like she trusted me with the whole world.”
Michael’s throat tightened. “Your wife?”
Chuck nodded. “She was my whole life. Gone five years now, but it feels like yesterday.” His eyes softened, going distant. “She trusted me more than I deserved.”
