Total pages in book: 112
Estimated words: 105697 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 528(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105697 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 528(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
The headlights hit me first. A horn blares straight at me. I swerve back into my lane at the last minute to avoid being run over by a semi-truck. I check my rearview mirror for the other cars. “I did it. Daniel would be so proud of—”
Wheels spinning.
Tires skidding.
I turn into the skid with rain shielding me from seeing my life flash before my eyes. My laptop becomes a flying guillotine, slicing through the interior, hitting the far window, and dropping like a barbell as the car skids into a barbed wire fence.
My mouth is agape, but no sound comes out. It happens in the slowest yet fastest motion, making it hard to compute in real time.
I’m white-knuckled, eyes the size of dinner plates as I catch a quick breath—heart pounding so hard I’m dizzy. Through the streaks of the wiper blades, I spot Bessie on the other side of the mangled fence, judging me.
“Oh my gosh,” I groan, releasing my grip on the wheel.
I drop back in the seat and fill my lungs with air, so grateful to be alive. Gingerly, I touch my head and face, before running my hand down my chest and kicking my legs. I think I’m okay. I unfasten the seat belt, letting it snap back against the car.
My train of thought is a little foggy as I try to get a grip on reality. What do I do now? Call the paramedics? Where is my phone? Is anyone else hurt?
Blood soars by my ears as my heart pounds even harder. “Don’t panic,” I say, searching for my phone with shaky hands as tears stream down my cheeks.
The sound of metal clanging together from behind me makes me jump. “Are you okay?”
I look over my shoulder and find a man giving me a quick once-over. “I think so.” My voice wavers as I try to stay calm.
“You shouldn’t speed in the rain.” He starts back to his car. “Sit tight. I’ll call the police.”
Grabbing hold of the steering wheel again, I flex my fingers around it and stare ahead. I’m freezing cold and starting to tremble. I just want Daniel.
I turn again to look for my phone when a notebook catches my attention from the floorboard.
The cottage!
“Most likely, you’re going to live.” Brandon holds the ice pack to my head.
Propped behind the large steering wheel of the fire truck, I laugh, taking over for him with the ice pack. “You need to work on your bedside manner. It’s not very comforting.” I lift a brow. “Most likely?”
Hanging onto the rail, he searches my eyes for the fifth time, smiling this time when he hops down. “I’m a fireman, not a doctor.”
“You’re also a paramedic. Trust me, I know this. There must be a little extra training to work on patients who almost died.”
Running his thumbs along the underside of his red suspenders, he chuckles again. “You didn’t almost die, Summer. You got close to taking out Bessie, though. Mrs. Dover wouldn’t have been happy if you had.”
“She’s not really happy anyway,” I say, sounding more like Dolly than myself.
“I need to get downtown to check out an alarm going off at the pottery store. Security said it was a cat who’d gotten in, so duty calls.” He helps me to solid ground. Eyeing my head, he says, “Hold that on for a few minutes. I called your sister to pick you up since your car had to be towed. She should be here in five minutes.”
“Autumn?” I ask, grinning. It’s Brandon. Of course, he called Autumn. “You didn’t.”
“I did.” He smirks, reminding me of a certain other smirker I know.
“She was on a date, you know?”
A wry grin works its way up to his eyes where it settles. “I know.” He shuts the door. Quite the mic drop. Make big moves and get big rewards.
The rain has stopped, and the sun is attempting a daring reappearance before it sets for the night. The sky shows off in beautiful pinks, vivid oranges, and striking purples. It’s a beautiful ending to a terrible day.
Most of the witnesses to the accident have already left. There are a few bystanders still hanging out by the fire truck, probably whispering that I was out joyriding. Dolly will love hearing about that gossip. They don’t understand, or care, that I was trying to get to a very important meeting.
One that I missed.
My heart sinks in my chest as I fight back another bout of tears.
“Well, Bessie,” I say, turning toward the fence. “Looks like it’s me and you, old girl.”
She moos in response. I reach over and pet her, feeling my heart slowly splinter into pieces. I’m losing Daniel, and now I’ve lost the cottage, too.
“You’re a good girl,” I tell her.
“So are you,” someone says behind me.
Deep, dulcet tones take aim with an arrow. A clear voice, firm and insinuating so much more than I meant, strikes my heart like his own personal bull’s-eye.