Adam

"I should've known I'd find you brooding in here," Eliza says, stepping into my office without knocking. She never waited for an invitation before, and today's no exception.

I keep my eyes glued to the monitors of cameras lining the roads of my property. If I look away, my gaze might fall to the torn, soaked book on my desk—and I can't let that to happen. My brain and pride won't allow me.

"So knocking's optional now, huh?" I ask, hoping to throw her off. It's pointless, though, because I know she's on a mission, and when Eliza's on a mission, she never hears a word I say.

"Only when my boss acts like the childish arse I thought I'd long gotten him to outgrow," she quips.

With anyone else, I'd rip into them for the brash insult. But I know better than to raise my voice to Eliza. She practically raised me, and she's always quick to remind me of that fact.

"What do you want?" I ask, trying to keep my voice steady.

"She's gone," she says, a hint of sadness in her tone.

"I know," I say, nodding at the screen showing her car. "I'll have to collect my car once she's home."

"That's all you're concerned with? Your car?" she snaps, her voice tight with frustration.

"What else should I be worried about?" I bark, slamming my hand on the desk, quickly forgetting my own rule about never raising my voice to Eliza.

Eliza probably would say I'm having a right fit tantrum if she wasn't already about to lay into me.

"How about the fact that the first person to get you to feel anything other than a paralyzing torment just walked out of your life," Eliza's accent thickens, a sure sign she's upset.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I say, rejecting her insinuation that I care about Isabelle.

Eliza doesn't care for that. She knits her brows and raises a finger at me. She always did this when I was younger—her silent command for me to stay quiet while she finishes scolding me, so I know not to interrupt her again.

"You might have Izzy and everyone else in this house fooled—maybe even yourself—but I know you, Adam Marsters. And to me, it's clear how you feel about that girl." She hesitates, and I think she's done, so I turn back to the monitors, watching her car roll further away.

I lean forward in my seat as the car turns right at a fork in the road.

What the hell is she thinking? Doesn't she see the signs?

That road is nothing but trouble. Dangerous people do drug deals and worse things down that path. I've called the authorities on them a few times. I even showed them my footage, but after a while, they stopped responding. They told me it was a personal matter and warned me not to waste their time anymore. I don't know why I'd expect more from that town's law enforcement.

"Adam, are you listening to me?" Eliza cuts through my thoughts.

"Yeah," I mutter, my eyes still scanning the cameras' screens along the road.

"I'm just saying, I don't think Jessica would be angry with you for moving on. It's been five years," Eliza continues, but her words are barely registering because my attention is glued to the screens. "I think it's time we all move forward."

"Shut up!" I roar, leaping from my chair. My heart pounds in my ears, drowning out any semblance of common sense. I'm sure Eliza's face is boiling red, but I don't care.... I can't care.

"What did you—" I cut her off, pointing at the monitor where Isabelle's car skidded into a ditch. Eliza gasps. "Dear lord!"

I turn to her, panic undoubtedly written all over my face, but I don't care.

"Tell Harry to bring the other car around," I order.

"It's getting repairs," she says.

"Then call a damn service," I growl. We don't have time for this.

Isabelle doesn't have time for this.

"In this snow? There's no telling how long it will be."

I glance back at the monitors. It seems that nothing good comes from watching them. A van has turned down the lane, heading toward my car. Toward Isabelle.

Why did I have to harass her into leaving?

You know why.

Of all the stupidest things I've done, if any harm comes to her, this will rank second.

As the van creeps closer to the car, my eyes flick to the desk, to the torn novel sitting there. The one I ripped apart. The act that pushed her into this nightmare. It's all my fault.

Because I couldn't...

I shake my head. Nothing's happened to her yet, and if I have anything to say about it, it, it never will. My body moves before my mind can catch up. Before I know what I'm doing, I'm dashing past Eliza and out the door.

"Where are you going?" she shouts after me.

"Call an ambulance," I yell, sprinting down the hall.

"Okay, but where are you going?" she calls again, but I'm already gone.

***

My hands shake as I grab the barn door. Not from the freezing weather—though a long-sleeved shirt and vest aren't exactly proper snow attire— but from the overwhelming fear that I might again be too late. I yank the stable doors open, shoving the dreadful thought aside, and rush to Phillip. He neighs and prances as I pull him from his stall and saddle him quickly. He hesitates to follow my instructions, reluctant to step into the pelting blizzard. He rears in disapproval, nearly knocking me off him.

"Easy, boy," I murmur, trying to soothe him. "Someone important to us needs our help."

Phillip huffs, still displeased, but something inside him must understand me because he moves out and awaits my next command. I pat him quickly. "Good, boy."

"Let's go!" I shout, bracing myself as we charge into the white tempest. Every thought passing through my mind is a silent prayer that we make it in time.

Please.

Author's Note:

Thank you so much for sticking with me through this wild ride! Your support, your time, and your passion for this story mean everything. If Adam's desperate rush through the storm gripped your heart, I'd love to hear what you think. Every comment, like, and share makes a difference and keeps this story alive. Your support and thoughts mean the world.