Page 10 of Fall Into Me

“Oh, good. Look, Claire just called. You remember her? She’s Laurie’s friend who tried to—”

“—hit on me at the bar last week,” Cass cut in, rolling his eyes at the memory. “Yeah, I remember. I thought she got the message that I’m not interested? Look, I’ve gotta get home, so—”

“Yah, I know, shut up and listen for a minute, will ya? She works at the Denny’s right there, called me ’cause she knew we were helping out earlier. Apparently, there’s a car that just got stuck on the off-ramp, hauling a little U-Haul something-or-another that slid a bit off the road. Can you help? Should be quick. I mean, I hope. I’d do it myself, but Laurie’s anxious ’cause the power just went out.”

“Oh, shit, the power’s out?”

“Only in my little corner of the neighborhood. Your house is fine, I’m sure. Anyway, can you?”

Cass sighed and glanced over at Mr. Pugliano’s prescription bag sitting on the passenger seat. What was one more good deed? He closed his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll do it. Thanks for the call, man.”

“Yeah. Be careful, okay?”

“Of course.”

With another sigh, Cass hung up the phone and set it on the dash, wondering when the thread he was just barely hanging onto was going to break for good. A moment later, he was back on the main road, headed toward the freeway, resigned to helping yet another poor victim of the nasty weather.

Henry (Thursday, December 9, 2021 – 9:52 a.m.): Good morning, kiddo! Hope you’re doing a little better today. Shaina said you were planning to get back on the road since they opened up the freeway, but I’m hearing it’s still iffy, especially heading north into the mountains. Maybe you should stay put at that hotel for another day or so and let them clear the roads more. Give me a call, okay? Stay safe.

Chapter Five

Ash

Nothing was going right. Nothing at all.

Not with Bri, not with the road conditions, and not with the abysmal towing ability of his small SUV.

Not that Ash could blame any of those things, especially not Bri. After all, he was the one who’d made a string of bad decisions, one after another, including the stupidest decision he’d probably ever made—the decision to leave the relative safety of the hotel this morning.

He’d packed everything up, checked out of their room, and tucked a somehow-finally-asleep-again Bri safely in her car seat, all while trying to ignore the uncomfortable knot in his stomach telling him the roads were still dangerous and to forget that he was going on only about two hours of less-than-restful sleep himself.

He should have listened to his gut.

Bri had woken up nearly as soon as he’d started driving, and her quiet whimpers and gurgles had quickly turned to full-on wailing. On top of that, the roads were worse than awful, barely plowed and still covered in layers of ice and snow that hadn’t melted. And although his car was supposed to be all-wheel drive, it had started losing traction all over the place, slipping and sliding and generally making him assume they were both about to die.

He’d been so overwhelmed and so downright terrified that he’d been unable to breathe right, and he’d taken the very next off-ramp on the freeway. One exit. They’d made it all of one exit farther on their route. And then . . .

“Dammit,” he hissed, squeezing his eyes shut as he gripped the steering wheel and tried not to cry. Again.

God, he was stupid. Stupid and alone and stuck here in the snow. His car wouldn’t move—or hell, maybe he just was such an awful driver that he had no idea how to get it to move—and Bri was still screaming from the back seat. And since he was a lousy uncle and had no idea what he was doing, he didn’t know whether she was hungry or needed a diaper change or whether she was just cranky since she also hadn’t slept enough.

He bit his lip and forced his eyes back open. He was at the end of the off-ramp, stopped at the red light, but the front of his car was a good several feet into the intersection, and the trailer . . . Another wave of something very unpleasant rolled through his stomach as he glanced in the passenger side mirror. The trailer’s tire on that side was now partly buried in snow after the trailer had slid sideways off the road when he’d tried to stop. He was lucky the little trailer hadn’t pulled his car right along with it or pushed the car farther into the intersection.

“Dammit,” he muttered again, and somehow, Bri seemed to sense his mood, because she began wailing more, louder now. Guilt and shame rushed through his chest, and Ash sucked in a breath and closed his eyes. He needed to do better. “I’m sorry, sweet girl. Please don’t cry. I’ll—I’ll figure this out. S-somehow. Shh, shh.”

Tears slipped out, even with his eyes squeezed shut, and he released one hand from the steering wheel long enough to wipe them away. Bri continued crying, though not quite as loudly, and ahead of Ash, the stoplight changed to green. He clenched his jaw and blinked back more tears. Then he took his foot off the brake and tried again. But just as with the previous three green lights, the tires spun, and the vehicle didn’t move. And his leg started shaking badly as a new wave of panic rolled through him.

Quickly, he shifted his foot back to the brake pedal, pushing down on it as hard as he could, and then put the SUV in park and reached out to turn on his hazard lights. No one had come up behind him yet, but it was just a matter of time. And then what? God, what should he do? Still gripping the steering wheel, his knuckles now white, he leaned forward to rest his forehead on his hands. His lower lip trembled as he kept trying to hold back his tears. But no matter how hard he scrunched his eyes shut, he couldn’t stop them. Or the flood of intrusive thoughts, reminding him how completely alone he was.

Quietly, he started talking to his niece again, even as he kept his eyes closed and his forehead resting on his hands, because dammit if he was going to let Bri ever think she was alone too. His mumbling was probably pretty incoherent, but after another moment, she finally stopped crying, like maybe she understood that he was trying to comfort her at least.

He held his breath, waiting for her to start back up, and when she didn’t, he sniffled and lifted his head. The light was red again. And he still had no idea what to do.

Behind him, a silver sedan drove up. As though he wasn’t even there and the snow wasn’t even a thing, the driver passed him on his left and then made a right turn out in front of him and continued along on the road.

Ash swallowed hard. One more try. Maybe. And then . . . god, he didn’t even know what. He’d get out and try to shovel the snow away from the trailer tire with a shovel he didn’t have? Or with his hands? That sure sounded like a stupid idea. Maybe he should call a tow truck? But given the road conditions, that seemed like a pretty terrible idea as well.

He couldn’t think, and he didn’t know what to do or what not to do. His hands tingled, his grip on the steering wheel now feeling looser, like he didn’t even have the strength to hold it. And his head throbbed, something worse than just a lack-of-sleep headache, he could feel it already. Probably another migraine brewing, like he’d had last week and the week before. Stress-induced migraines, the doctor had called them. Just what he really, really didn’t need right now.