I’d nearly finished shopping before I remembered I should probably act like an adult and buy the proper fixings for a few meals.
A sharp breeze blew my hair around my face. It was floppy and overdue for a trim. I should make an appointment with a barber before my job interview. I considered swinging by now, but another gust of wind cut straight through my wool coat, making me shiver hard. I dismissed the idea, hurriedly unloading the rest of the cart and returning it to the corral just outside the store’s entrance.
By the time I got into the driver’s seat and started the engine, fat white flakes were swirling around, making the town look like the inside of a snow globe. I smiled, watching the postcard-worthy scene until another shiver racked my body and reminded me that I should really get a move on.
I still had to drive up a mountain.
The cabin wasn’t too far, about a fifteen-minute drive in good weather. I pulled out of the parking lot and onto the main street. The flurries seemed to multiply by the second, beginning to cover the streets in wet slush. How long would it take that to freeze and become slick as snot?
I didn’t have to wait long for that answer.
The Durango slid as I turned onto the highway that would take me out of town and partway up the mountain before the turnoff to the smaller road that led directly to the cabin.
My heart lurched as the tires lost their grip, but I regained control. “Shit, shit, shit!”
Adrenaline flushed through my body, and I had to take a few calming breaths.
Relax, Quinn. You’re a Midwestern boy. You know how to drive in snow.
Still, I slowed down. The slick road wasn’t even the worst part. The flurries came down faster and the wind continued to pick up. Even with the windshield wipers at their highest speed, it was difficult to see through the blur of white.
And judging by the snowbanks lining the road, these flurries weren’t going to stop anytime soon.
I was quickly losing all fondness for snow globes.
“Fuck,” I muttered as the car hit another slick spot and fishtailed. Tension wound me tight as I fought to get it under control. “Just a little farther…”
I made it to the turn-off with a sigh of relief. Through the thick white haze, I glimpsed a set of taillights farther down the road. At least I wasn’t the only nutjob driving in this weather.
I was in the home stretch now. I relaxed a fraction as I started down the narrow road to the cabin, and that was my downfall.
Suddenly the car hit a rut, lost traction, and plowed straight into a snowbank made of hard packed snow from an earlier storm. The impact startled a yell out of me as the Durango slammed to a stop.
I sat there, stunned, for at least a minute before I tried to reverse out. The wheels just spun. I tried to go forward with the same result. With a sinking heart, I cut the engine and climbed out to survey the damage.
The Durango was tilted at an angle, half buried in a drift of snow. It’d have been easy enough to avoid, had I been able to see. But with visibility so poor, I must have been too close to the shoulder. What I’d thought was a rut was actually the edge of the asphalt. There was no way I’d be able to drive out of that much snow.
“No,” I whispered as the enormity of my situation hit me.
I checked my phone, even though I already knew it was a long shot. No service. Not a single bar.
I was totally, one hundred percent fucked.
“No, no, no!” I groaned as I gripped at my hair, dimly registering that it was damp and stiff, halfway to crusting over in the freezing cold wind.
I kicked viciously at the snow piled around the Durango, eyes burning with the urge to cry. “Stupid fucking snow! Stupid fucking minivan masquerading as an SUV!” I shouted in frustration. There was no one to hear but the pines, and maybe a stray moose. A bear if I’m lucky. A bear will eat me and my troubles will be at an end.
It didn’t sound so bad right then. I was probably going to freeze to death in a blizzard anyway. On second thought, freezing was probably the better way to go.
I’d succeeded in soaking my Converse and my pantleg. Between the wind and the snow, I felt like tiny razor blades were nicking every bit of my exposed skin. With no solution in sight, I climbed back into the car and cranked the heater. Belatedly, I turned on the flashers in hope that if a vehicle did come along in this weather, it wouldn’t find me by ramming full force into my rear.
The way my life was going, that would be no surprise.
I huddled in my seat, holding my freezing hands in front of the heating vents, and tried to think rationally. No phone. No way to call for roadside assistance, even if I could afford it. I could sit here, engine running until I ran out of gas, but then what? I’d freeze to death overnight. I could try to walk the rest of the way to the cabin in the blizzard. I knew the way well enough, but I always heard stories of people getting turned around, then freezing.
I felt like I was in a version of the Oregon Trail card game I’d found at the cabin. I’d just drawn a calamity card, and all actions led to freezing to death.
At least I was loaded up with enough groceries I’d be in no danger of starving.
Taking a few deep breaths, I once again considered my options.
I wasn’t getting out of the snowbank without a shovel. Maybe not even then. I might need a tow.
Everything inside of me wanted to do something, but logically, I knew that was the wrong call. I had to stay in the car. I had to wait. I had to prolong my warmth as long as possible. If, or when, I ran out of that warmth, then and only then could I gamble on finding my way by foot.
My breath hitched as the panic threatened to return. To think I’d been terrified of seeing Jonas when he arrived. Now, I wished he were here with me. He’d know what to do, and even if he didn’t, at least I wouldn’t be so alone.
3
JONAS
Our cabin was set on a rise overlooking Lake Columbine and Shadow Mountain, with a direct view of Mount Baldy. Its real name was Mount Craig, but no one called it that because the mountain was rounded, like a bald head. In the distance, the Rockies shadowed the sky in faded purples, grays, and whites.
The driveway was short and steep, but the Jeep could handle it, even with the snow beginning to pack the roads. It was a good thing I’d arrived when I did, though, because I gave it a few hours, at most, before the roads would be impassable. It was no surprise flights had been grounded. Dad would probably head home because even if he could get a later flight, he was unlikely to get through to the cabin.
I put the car in park, setting the emergency brake since I was on an incline, and stepped out into air sharp enough to bite. I’d packed light, so I grabbed my stuff from the back and headed for the covered deck. Our cabin wasn’t exactly a shack in the woods with one and a half stories and a wraparound deck on the first floor. Massive picture windows afforded gorgeous 360-degree views of our surroundings. Though it retained rustic design elements, it had plenty of conveniences, like the hot tub I was already thinking about as I shivered while unlocking the front door.
I stomped my feet a few times to rid myself of clinging snow and stepped inside.
It was warm, and it smelled like…chocolate and peanut butter?
My heart skipped. Quinn was really here then. I knew Dad wouldn’t lie, but it hadn’t made any sense and part of me was still unable to believe it.