Mara

 

 It was technically still daylight when I left my youngest sister's house in Illinois. She had said goodbye to me, but Chloe hadn't been able to take her eyes away from Alex Reed, who had been standing there all apologetic, desperate to make amends.

They really are cute together, I thought with some amusement. Even if Alex was closer to my age than my sister's, I couldn't help regarding them both with a big sister's eye. Really, all that trouble over a little romance.

Despite my amusement, I was happy for my fey little Chloe. Alex would steady her, and she would maybe help him take that stick out of his well-bred, rich-boy ass. He had been nearly silent all through our drive from White Pines to Elgin, so grim-faced and determined to make things up to Chloe that I thought he might pop a vein. All he had wanted was Chloe's address so that he could drive to see her, but I had refused. No way, no how.

Nope, not if she doesn't know you're coming and might be unhappy to see you. I'll drive, or you’re not getting a thing from me.

 Alex Reed has at least one brother, so he should know what it’s like to be simultaneously frustrated with someone and incredibly protective of them. Now here I am, leaving my sister to her happy ending and making the drive north to White Pines again.

Shannon, the middle of us Becker sisters, was probably going to be waiting up for me, and I winced a little at the thought. We still needed to talk about what we were going to do with our grandmother's house, and that wasn't a conversation either of us was looking forward to. Chloe had said she would go along with whatever Shannon and I decided, and I barely avoided rolling my eyes. Of course Chloe weaseled her way out of the difficult decisions and went home with a rich, handsome doctor. Par for the course for Chloe.

I had been hoping to get back to White Pine by eight or nine, but as the sky darkened and large clumpy snowflakes started to fall, I pushed that estimation back, and then pushed it back again. My car, a powerful and elderly Mercedes, drove just fine in the cold and snow, but the snow was coming faster and faster. I saw other cars peeling off the exits, the traffic thinning out, but I kept going.

It'll be fine. I'll just take it slow...

That mantra actually worked at convincing me for almost four hours of white-knuckled driving. I drove slowly but steadily, staring so hard into the swirling white blankness ahead of me that I felt as if my eyes were drying out. Time took on a peculiarly elastic quality. I felt as if I had been on the road forever. It felt as if I would never get to White Pines. Then, miracle of miracles, I saw a sign saying I was just twenty miles away from the city limits.

“Oh thank god,” I muttered.

Afterward, I couldn't figure out if it was the release of that vital bit of tension that caused what happened next, or if it was just some strange twist of fate. I was focused on the road, the conditions actually looking as if they were clearing up, and then there was a deer standing stock still in the middle of the road.

As it was happening, it felt as if time stood still. It felt as if I had all the time in the world to look at the deer; to take in its dark eyes, its spindly legs, the round barrel of its body. All of this I saw as I wrenched the wheel to the side with a cry of shock. The deer seemed to wait until the last minute to run out of the way, and when I saw that I had cleared it, I tried to yank the car back onto the road.

With a sense of inevitability, I felt the tires spinning underneath me as the car fishtailed, sliding backwards straight into the ditch. I rocked hard against my seat belt, and for a moment, everything went dark.

 

The next thing I knew, there was a frantic tapping on the window, and I could see red lights flashing some small distance away.

Oh god, is it the cops?

I hastened to roll down the window an inch. Now I could see the man in the dark wool coat on the other side, a scarf pulled up to protect his face and a knit cap pulled down over his ears.

“Are you all right?” he asked. “I saw your car in the ditch.”

 My first instinct was to say that of course I was all right, but instead, I took a moment to assess myself. I was definitely bruised and sore, but there was nothing overtly wrong with me. There was no tenderness at all around my head; I had likely simply blacked out from surprise, not impact.

“I think I'm all right,” I said, and the man nodded.

“Good. Turn off your car. I'll help you get to mine.”

I turned off the engine, and I couldn't help feeling as if I had just pulled the plug on my beloved old car's life support. The thought made me feel oddly queasy, but I shoved it away, looking instead at the man on the other side of the door.

“Are you a cop?” I asked.

“Sorry, no,” he said. “But come on, I'll take you up the road to White Pines, at least.”

I debated with myself for a minute, and then shrugged. The wind was howling, the car, now that it was off, was cooling off quickly, and I didn't relish waiting for a cop to finally show up.

“All right, just...please don't be a serial killer or anything, all right?”

He laughed at that, and I was surprised by how much I enjoyed the sound of his laughter. When I opened the door, he steadied me in the frozen weeds by the side of the road. I looked at my car, which looked like a wounded animal in the ditch, and sighed. But there was nothing to be done about that now. I followed him back to his car with its hazards blinking on the side of the road, and before I got in, I whipped out my phone and took a picture of his license plate defiantly.

“What's that all about?” my rescuer asked as he got into the car. To my relief, the heat had been left running, and I focused on forcing some life back to my fingertips. Even that short amount of time outside had left them a little numb.

“Texting it to my sister, to make sure that you actually get me to White Pines,” I said, flashing him a wide grin. My cocky attitude dared him to have a problem with my precaution. How a man reacted when a woman did something as simple as ensure her own safety was always telling. Some men understood, others got angry. This one laughed.

“Well, you haven't changed a bit, have you, Mara?” he asked. “Still the same suspicious girl with the bright green eyes.”

I felt a chill run up my spine as all sorts of explanations for his words tumbled through my mind. My hand was on the door handle when he put the car in drive and pulled away from the edge of the road. If he had moved one moment slower, I might have jumped into the blizzard and taken my chances.

“Who the hell are you?” I demanded, feeling a little defensive—of course I was suspicious. When had the world ever given me a reason not to be?

“You're going to hurt my feelings, darling,” he drawled. The car was warming up, and he pulled off the knit cap to reveal a head of thick, dark hair. When he glanced at me, a dozen half-intuited hints fell into place before my brain could fully catch up with what I was seeing. His face was leaner than it had been at eighteen. The strong bones there were starker, but the dark hair was the same, as were the gray eyes, visible in the overhead light.

My hand flew to my mouth, covering it in surprise.

“Cade...” I murmured. My tongue stuttered over his name, but the rest of me remembered well enough. It felt as if a forest fire raced through my body, making me draw a sharp breath.

“Good to see you too, darling,” Cade said sardonically, a twinkle in his eyes, and we drove toward White Pines.