With a defeated exhale, I drop my head onto the headrest and stare out the windshield.
What the hell just happened? One second I was documenting the adorable reality of farm life, and the next—
“Oh, fuck!” I cry, eyes wide, heart racing. “The animals!”
Did I hit one of them when I went off the road?!
My hand flies to the handle, and I try to shove the door open, but it barely budges an inch before getting stuck. Glancing down, I quickly discover why. I’m not just in a ditch, I’m in a ditch filled with nature—rocks, plants, and mud.Lotsof mud.
I close the door carefully and reach over the center console, careful not to spill the coffee I stopped for on the way here—an iced latte for me and a black coffee for Bea, since I wasn’t sure what she liked.
If she’s anything like herlatte hating son, I figured simple was best.
The second door is more stuck than the first, pressed up tightly against some giant, random bush scraping against the window.
Groaning, I flop back in my seat and stare out the windshield, unsure what the hell to do. My throat constricts, nerves completely shot, and the longer I stay here, trapped and tilted, the higher my anxiety soars.
Do I scream for help? That seems a bit dramatic.
I could climb out the window, but it’s small, and I’m just clumsy enough that I’ll probably get stuck halfway through and face-plant directly into a rock.
With no one around—possibly for miles—I’d just lie there, flopping in the wind, belly down, head bleeding profusely all over the rock that took meandmy car out, until the cats—or maybe one of the cows I passed—found me and had my hair for lunch.
“Get it together, Georgia.” I tug on my curls, groaning. “You’re not lost in the wilderness. It’s a farm. Someone will find you…eventually.”
Except I have to pee—desperately.
I chugged two waters on my way, one with my pills, one with electrolytes since I’m still lagging and a little sore.
Shifting, I wince at the throb in my hip but shoot up a silentthank-youthat it wasn’t worse. At least I’m okay. My rental? I doubt I’ll be getting my deposit back.
My eyes catch on my phone lying on the passenger-side floor, and I reach over, snatching it up.
Thumbing open my contacts, I pause.
Who the fuck am I supposed to call, the police? A tow-truck?
Where would I even say I am?
Hit the gravel road, follow the trees. I’m seven and a half curves past the third white barn, but not quite to the somewhat smaller blue shed? Oh, and while you’re out there, please make sure there are no dead geese.
The only person who could even help me is the last one I should be calling, but I’m not sure I have any other options. I don’t have a single other Archer’s phone number, just Kade’s from when I was on his case. It’s been weeks since I’ve used it, and that was only to tell him Aurora’s room number the day he met her.
My stomach twists, heart clenching as my mind fills with visions of her in his arms. He has about a week left to find a place and get it ready to move her in—if he has any hope of becoming her guardian.
Has he found one? Is she okay?Is he?
I’m as desperate for updates as my bladder is for peeing.
Fuck it.
Biting my lip, thumb hovering over his number, I suck in a breath, and pressCall.
The phone rings. And rings.
And rings.
My eyes fall closed, palm clenching around the phone. I sigh, muttering a defeated, “Of course, the asshole’s not going to ans—”
