Jace couldn’t have been any clearer when he warned me that there wouldn’t be a second time for us. He’s not interested in me, but I didn’t think he’d let that night pass without at least trying to apologize for what he did. It took years for our paths to cross in a way that would allow for any communication at the soro party. Mostly because I kept my distance from him, the same way he’s done to me all along. Mind you, it took everything in me to show up at his door when I turned eighteen. And after such a twisted end to that night, I couldn’t stand to give him the time of day ever again.

Almost five months after the soro party, it’s my best friend, Vanessa’s poor driving that brings us face to face in the least expected place.

I grip the over-the-door handle of the rear passenger seat as Vanessa takes us home from the movies. Vanessa has always been a bit crazy behind the wheel. Actually, so has her brother, Dylan. Our monthly movie date at the cinemas near Liberty State Park, New Jersey, has been a tradition for the two of us since I turned fifteen, but I have to admit, today was the least fun. It had less to do with the movie than my state of mind for most of this week. I’m in my senior year, about to finish a combined undergraduate degree majoring in Environmental Studies and Business. Except I only found out a few days ago that my winter semester internship gig at Fennmann’s Environmental Research Management, a large multi-national environmental research firm, just fell through.

It’s a disaster.

It means that on top of losing out on the on the job experience, I’m going to have to work a miracle to find a new assignment. It’s the only way I can graduate as planned this coming April. The problem is everyone who can help turn this around assumes I’m better off working for my father. That’s never gonna happen. I promised myself I’d never work for his firm while he’s still running it, and I’m sure as hell not going to ask him for help on this particular front. Dad’s business style is ruthless and cold. He also has a broad definition of business ethics. Broad to the point of nonexistent.

“Don’t lose hope,” Vanessa says. She takes a bend in the winding road at the same speed as the straightaway, and I have to grip the over the door handle to keep from sliding over to her. Even with my seatbelts on. “I’m sure between our dads, my mom, and Dylan’s friends, we’ll come up with something.”

I notice that she slipped my father into the equation, but ignore it. She knows where I stand on working for Dad. “I’m not sure I have as much faith as you do,” I reply. “Think about it. All the assignments that are still open at this point in the game probably suck.”

“Last-minute assignments happen all the time.”

“I’m just bummed that this one fell through. It was perfect for me, you know? I was really looking forward to working with that company.”

“You know it couldn’t be helped. Didn’t you tell me they really wanted you?”

I shrug and absently look out the window at the thick, lush darkness of park forest whizzing by. The speed demon beside me isn’t letting up at all. “Yeah. Wanted. Past tense. There were so many relocations out of state and to Europe, they were too short-staffed to devote any management resources to me.”

“Well, that’s something. And really, you should still be a little grateful this didn’t happen halfway through the semester. That would leave you in a crappy situation. It’s happened before, and usually, those students end up having to take on a summer assignment to finish their degree.”

I glance over at her optimistic face. “You’re sounding pretty positive that something like that can’t still happen to me.”

“We’ll all do everything we can to help you. Knock on doors, kiss some ass, grovel, and all that shit. Besides, you can always swallow your pride and intern at your dad’s. Being there may be exactly what both of you need. Either way, try not to worry. Things always work out for the best.”

“Maybe it does for you,” I grumble, rolling my eyes as I turn and peer out of my window again. “Oh, and do you mind slowing down a little? The roads are wet, and this fog is starting to get really thick out here. Can you even see outside?”

“Cherry darling, I know these roads like the back of my hand. Relax and quit it with the back seat driving.”

Shaking my head, I flick on the radio and look for a station that’s not playing classical pieces. I love my best friend to pieces, but because we just took in hours of a low-budget indie documentary about some philharmonic orchestra I never heard about before, I’ve had my fill of the classics. I face forward again, taking in the vague strip of road that her Ferrari’s headlights illuminate through the approaching grayish-white fog. As I relax in my seat and look out into the hazy darkness again, I swear there’s an object out in the middle of the road.

“Vanessa! Stop!”

“What’s wrong? You worry too much about my—” she starts, but is cut off by her own loud panicked gasp when she rolls over a bump as high as half the car tire.

The car swerves sharply. She hits the brakes and tries to regain control, but she’s going way too fast. We end up coming to a stop almost a hundred feet up ahead in the opposite lane. Thank goodness the roads are practically dead right now.

I unstrap my seatbelt and try to look out of the back windshield. There’s zero visibility with the fog. “Jeez, Van! Are you looking to get us killed?”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t see… Are you okay?” she asks me, running shaky hands through her shoulder-length honey blonde hair and breathing heavily.

“I’m fine. Do you know what we ran over?”

“No idea.”

“It was big.”

“Not that big.”

“I hope it wasn’t a wild animal.”

“I don’t think so. Do you?”

“I don’t know, but can you please get us off to the side of the road before a vehicle hits us head on?”

She drives to the narrow gravel shoulder. Now, she’s driving slowly. Coming to a stop, she opens her car door. “I’ll go check what we hit, just to be sure.”

“I’ll come with you,” I tell her, hopping out into the thickness of the foggy night.

It’s completely silent, except for our out-of-control breathing and a few crickets nearby. We hurry to roughly about the spot where Vanessa lost control, and look both ways for headlights. The coast is clear, so we go to the center of the road and bend forward to search the ground.

Jesus. I let out a little startled scream and grab Vanessa’s arm, pulling her backward. “It’s a snapping turtle. And not too tiny for this part of the state. It’s almost a foot and a half. Get back.”

“Relax, Cherry. Let me take a look.”

We both lean forward again, bending at the waist to examine the little creature. “You ran over a turtle,” I add for emphasis because Vanessa doesn’t seem concerned.

“Aww crap. Well, I’m sure it’s still alive.”

“It’s not moving at all. Not even a little bit, and look at the shell. It’s cracked down the middle.”

“Shit. I didn’t see it on the road.”

“Yeah. They’re well camouflaged, and there’s the fog, plus you were probably going at twice the goddamned speed limit!”

“Damn.”

“Let’s get back to the car. I have the number for New York State wildlife control on my phone. They can probably patch us through to their counterparts in New Jersey.”

“Thank God.”

“You’ve got to drive more carefully,” I lecture her as we return to the car. “I hope you feel bad for possibly lowering the turtle population by one.”

“I didn’t mean to hit it. Plus, there’s no telling if I could avoid it at a slower speed, anyway.”

“Next thing, you’ll be telling me that you probably saved the poor thing by speeding over it,” I add, my tone laced with sarcasm.

She huffs out a laugh and gets into the driver seat. “I probably did.”

“Bestie, you’re great in every other department…studious, friendly, motivated, even smart shopping. But you drive like an amped up road-rager.”

“I do not,” she tells me, switching on the overhead light. “Is your phone handy?”

I pull mine from the side pocket of my purse. “Got it,” I tell her and pull up the number from my contact list.

“Are you sure you don’t want to try 9-1-1?”

I give my best friend a sideways glance. “9-1-1? Seriously? Just relax. I’m calling the contact I have.”

Vanessa listens as the call connects. I explain what happened, and the dispatcher gives me the Hoboken number I need. Of course, that number goes through to voicemail. We should have expected that no one would answer. It’s nighttime on the weekend.

“What are we going to do now?” she asks after I leave a message and end the call.

“Start the car. I’ll put him in the trunk. We’ll take him to the vet if we have to.”

Vanessa stares at me and turns the key in the ignition. “There’s nothing we can do for him tonight.”

“We’re not leaving it. You saw it yourself. You broke it’s back, for Christ’s sake. The poor thing is hurt and stuck in the middle of the road.”

“I didn’t hit it intentionally,” she whines. “And how do you know we’re the first ones to hit it?”

“How do you know we’re not?”

Vanessa turns off the engine again. “Fine. Go on. I’ll wait here. I’d offer to drive us back to it, but I may end up hitting it or another one of God’s creatures!” she sing-songs for emphasis.

I head back up the road toward the injured animal, ignoring Vanessa as she points out that I don’t have anything but my bare hands to pick up the turtle. A few moments later, I hear her car door click open and then her footsteps as she hurries in pursuit. The fog is slightly thinner now, and she makes it to my side just as I grab the turtle by the back half of its shell. Lifting it carefully, I do my best to avoid making the injury worse and to keep my fingers away from its mouth and front claws.

“It’s alive!” she screeches when it makes a loud sound with its jaw and swings one front leg out in front. “And I doubt it likes being picked up.”

“True. They don’t like being touched anywhere,” I agree. “Especially not after being run over by a three-thousand-pound vehicle.”

“You realize you’re completely ignoring that the reptile is hissing, right? It’s probably a warning sound before it reaches back to do real damage.”

“We’re taking it to get help. That’ll make sure no one else hits it tonight.”

“Are you sure it’s not best to leave it at the side of the road? The wildlife people will probably find it right where we leave it. And I thought it was against the law to take some of these animals out of their natural habitat.”

“This is a special circumstance. It’s the weekend. The wildlife people you’re talking about probably won’t show up until Monday afternoon, after they pick up my voice message.”

“I think you’re making it angry,” she mutters as the little guy starts to get louder.

“You’re making me angry,” I groan.

“You’re not mad at me like Cherry is, are you little buddy?” Vanessa asks the turtle in her semi-baby talk as I carry it back to her car.

“Just keep your distance. It can’t hurt us unless we get close to its mouth or claws.”

“How do you even know how to handle that thing?”

“I’m just using common sense, and a bit of compassion. Pop the trunk.”

She clicks her remote and waits for me to place it in the center of the trunk. Then she looks down at it again. “Sorry I rolled over you, you poor thing. Someone will check out the damage I did as soon as we can. They’ll get you all stitched up, okay? Because Cherry won’t let anything happen to you. She’s the turtle whisperer, I think.”

“That’s enough,” I say with a small chuckle.

“I wasn’t joking. You’re amazing. The way you stepped in and are doing that thing you do to save it.”

There’s something about what she said that gets my back up. “What thing?” I ask for clarification as I close the trunk lid.

“Oh, never mind. It’s nothing,” she answers quickly and turns to get in the driver seat. “You’re so kind, is all.”

Dusting my hands off, I jump in the passenger seat My eyes narrow at her. “You were suggesting something else.”

“No I wasn’t,” she insists, but I know what she’s getting at, and honestly, I don’t appreciate the inference.

“Just because I don’t want this animal to die, doesn’t mean I have a problem with death, or that I let myself get too attached.”

Her eyes widen. “I never said you did.”

“But you implied it. I don’t want my best friend psychoanalyzing me, or suggesting I have a God complex. Maybe wanting to help an injured animal is just that. Helping.”

“Listen to me,” she says, and places a hand on my knee. “I’m not suggesting or implying anything, Cherry. Except that you’re being overly sensitive again.”

I let out a breath of air. This conversation is getting out of hand. “Maybe you should just drive. I need to get home.”

We don’t notice the two dark colored sports cars speeding by until they stop a few hundred feet ahead of us and start reversing toward us, one ahead of the other.

“That’s Dylan, I think,” Vanessa says, squinting to check out whether it’s her brother, Dylan’s Maserati when it stops in front of hers. She flicks on her headlights. “Yes, that’s them for sure. Maybe Dylan recognized my car and thought something was wrong.”

Both of each car’s front doors open.

Dylan steps out. Jace and a guy I never met get out of the other vehicle.

“Who’s that?” I ask about the unknown guy.

“That’s their friend, Franko.”

The three of them walk toward us, each with a hand at their foreheads, shielding their eyes from the headlights.

Then Jace realizes I’m the one in the car with Vanessa.