Chapter Eleven
Cassidy
“Face away from me!” I holler as I step into the not-forest.
“You face away from me!” he yells back.
The temperature drops dramatically in the shade. The canopy shimmies and shakes overhead, allowing faint dappled light to pass through and occasionally releasing gathered droplets of moisture. Like a little after-storm. An encore. I’d get swept up in the simple beauty of it if my bladder wasn’t threatening me.
Instead, I move deeper into the woods, treading toward the fattest tree in my line of sight to squat behind. When it’s all said and done, one singular thought possesses my mind as I work my jeans back up my legs: gratitude for leg strength and good balance.
As I slide my button into place, a rustling sound fifty or so feet away jolts me. I peek my head around the tree.
Luke is not jumping, not even hopping, but performing some sort of high-knee sporting drill through the woods.
I stifle a laugh as I move his direction. “What the heck are you doing?”
“Scaring the snakes.”
My gaze floats to the ground. “What snakes?”
“You honestly think there aren’t snakes in this underbrush?”
“I cannot emphasize enough how little I’ve thought about the underbrush. The storm probably scared them into hiding, right?”
“I bet they’re all coming out now.”
I stifle a laugh. He’s so ridiculous it’s almost cute. “Why were you stomping in this direction?”
“I was coming to find you so we could go back to the car.”
Warmth sneaks up and settles over me. He almost threw the car door off its hinges from half a second of actual conversation with me, but at least he’s not letting me get lost in this forest. Props for that.
Which I will stack next to the props he earned for soothing the ever-loving crap out of me while I was driving. The strangest part? He didn’t even seem fazed by my ineptitude or like he was judging me for it.
He just…helped.
The chilly air sparks goose bumps on my skin, even inside my clothes. “I would’ve found my way out. I can see the car from here.”
As we make our way through the underbrush, his head stays tilted down so he can appraise the ground.
“So snakes, huh? Is that a fear of yours?” I ask lightly. I had to drag his sandy cornea story out of him so I’m likely to receive some resistance on this, but I can’t squash the compulsion to ask.
He strokes his jaw. “Not afraid. I just don’t go out of my way to engage any animal that can”—he emits a shuddering sound—“do that. Do what they do. With their jaws.”
I can’t help it. I laugh. “You’re scared of snakes.”
He throws me a lethal look. “I’m not—”
I grab his bicep to stop him and jump in his path, body-blocking him as I hover a finger near his mouth. “Shh. Stop. Did you hear that?”
His arm flexes beneath my hand. “What?”
“Almost like…” I blink fast and suck in a tiny breath to really sell the farce. “Slithering.”
The glow of the light filtering through the canopy casts him in golden relief as he stares down at me, a questioning look in his eyes. I don’t think I’d noticed the warm hazel color before, both green and brown enough to belong out here, among the trees.
My gaze lingers on the subtle laugh lines near his eyes, hiding in plain sight, before tracing the smooth line of his tan neck, all the way to where it disappears into his collar.
His attention shifts to my hand, which is still gripping his broad bicep, and back to my face. It passes over me, never pausing in one place, sliding over my face, down my shoulders, up to the top of my head. Suddenly my hair feels as alive as the rest of me, a conduit of the strange energy pulsing through my body.
I release my hold fast, palm tingling. “Snakes! I was just…”
What was I doing? Joking?
His gaze shifts past me, and in an instant, his entire face transforms into unadulterated, slack-jawed shock.
It happens so fast I don’t have time to think or calibrate, just a fraction of a second to wheel around.
CRASH.
Our little black car, plowed by a semi-truck.
It’s so bright and vivid, so surreal, it plays out like a comic book come to life.
It soars as if weightless across the grass, spinning a full three hundred and sixty degrees, snacks and a coffee cup flying out the open windows.
Crunching into a bank of trees. Collapsing in on itself like an accordion.
And then WHOOSH.
It ignites in a blaze of glory.
I stumble backward and my heel snags on a vine. Luke catches me with an arm around my waist. He holds me up as pure shock snatches my voice box and locks it in a vise grip. I try to talk but nothing comes out, as if the wind was knocked out of me. My hand flies to my throat.
“Are you okay?” He roughly tilts my body so he can see me.
“I’m—” I slide my hand over my chest. I’m breathing. I can talk. “I’m okay.”
He keeps a grip on my upper arm. “We need to get out of the woods. Maybe the trees will catch on fire, I’m not sure. But, shit, we can’t get too close to the road, either. Obviously.”
“Hold on.” Shock strains my voice. “We shouldn’t go closer. The car could explode. It’s full of gas, right? Is that how it works?”
He drags his hand down his face, eyes alight with concern. “I need to check to see if the truck driver is okay.”
I glance down the road. “It’s parked. That’s good right? They must be okay if they made the conscious decision to pull over and park.”
Or…
Fear roils my gut. “What if they aren’t okay, Luke? Should I call 911?” I pat my pockets. My stomach drops all the way to the wet earth. “I don’t have a phone.”
He pats his. His jaw falls open. “I don’t, either. I’ve got nothing.”
This is bad.
Luke takes off in a fast walk.
“Wait!” I cry, chasing behind.
He pivots and lifts a hand. “Stay at the tree line. It’s safer. I don’t want you near any of this.”
I cast a desperate look at the steady blaze of the car. “I’m not just going to stand here while you go toward a car that’s on fire!”
“Yes”—he closes the gap between us and angles my body toward the road—“you are.”
He can tell me to stay all he wants. It’s not going to stop me from doing what needs to be done.
And right now, we need to make sure the driver is okay.