Chance Encounter(45)

“That sweater isn’t going to stop the rain from soaking you.”

She twisted around and reached into the back of his Jeep, grabbing his backup oilskin. “This will.”

“It’s just a damn branch.” He was irritated because she looked so good wearing all that stubborn pride. She looked good wearing his jacket, too, which dwarfed her so much that only her fingertips poked out the sleeves.

She looked good looking at him.

She followed him into the storm as he knew she would. She followed him to the branch, as he knew she would. And she lifted right along side of him, though the wind slashed at them, and they were drenched within seconds.

Lightning lit the sky, and almost immediately came the clap of thunder, far too close for comfort. Suddenly an inconvenient branch in the way became a serious threat.

“Go back to the truck,” he shouted as they slowly dragged the heavy branch to the side of the road. “I can get it—”

“We’re almost done,” she shouted right back, straining along with him.

And that’s when he saw it in her eyes. Self-doubt. Fear.

But when he blinked and looked again, both were gone. And suddenly he knew the truth—his little city warrior had faked him out. She wasn’t nearly as sure of herself as she wanted him to believe.

He should have known, maybe he’d always known, but that she could put on such a good show, make such an unbelievable go of it, staggered him. “You’re doing great,” he heard himself say to her.

She went still, then flashed him a smile that took his breath. “Thanks.”

He was moving backwards towards the edge of the road, hauling the branch with him. She pushed from the other end, from the middle of the highway. They’d nearly cleared enough room for the Jeep to fit through when a car came roaring up the road.

It was moving far too fast, far too recklessly, and Chance waved and shouted for the driver to slow down.

It didn’t.

Tourists, he had time to think in disgust. Stupid tourists who thought the weather was exciting, and the roads infallible and their own driving skills perfect.

“Chance.” Ally breathed his name, fear etched on her face. “He’s going too fast!”

“Ally, move. Run.”

But she stood there in the way, mesmerized in horror.

The driver finally noticed the branch, not to mention both Chance and Ally struggling with it, but Chance knew it was too late, and Ally, still out in the middle of the road, was the vulnerable one. With every ounce of strength he had, he whirled, pulling both the branch—and Ally—with him, whiplashing her toward the side of the road where he stood.

She tumbled hard, landing a few feet from the edge of the cliff on her hands and knees.

The driver slowed, and swerved to the right, but it was too-little-too-late. His tires lost traction and the car lost control. It headed directly for Chance’s Jeep, and hit with a sickening crunch.

The car came to an abrupt halt.

The Jeep took the impact, and surged with it, moving, sliding toward the cliff, only feet away from where Ally was still on her hands and knees.

Chance started running, putting himself between Ally and the moving Jeep, thinking he could stop its movement with one great heave, but thankfully Ally scrambled out of the way. Sure that he could still stop the Jeep, saving the vehicle from going over the side of the cliff, he braced himself and reached out. But the strangest thought went through his head.

He was risking his life for a car.

Only weeks ago he would have done it without thinking. But something was different. He was different.

Ally screamed his name. It echoed through the wind and over the rain. He turned toward her to tell her not to worry, that he wasn’t going to needlessly risk himself, not now, not when he knew the truth.

He’d changed because of her.

“Chaaaance!” She was moving back toward him in slow motion, panic and terror in her eyes, her hands waving as she tried to warn him. Because while he’d stopped with his life-altering realization, while he’d decided to walk away, the Jeep hadn’t slowed at all, and as it approached the last few feet before the cliff, as it set itself in a motion that couldn’t be stopped, it took him with it.

Right over the edge.

It happened so very slowly that Chance literally saw his life flash before his eyes, just as everyone always claimed. He saw his parents, wild and free in Las Vegas, having the times of their lives.

He should have called them more.

He saw his brothers, Kell and Brandon, both big and tough and strong and disciplined.

And though they’d never been close, he should have called them more, too.

It took a lifetime for the Jeep’s momentum to take it past him, down the embankment. He grabbed out blindly, and found purchase in a very hard, very wet, very eager to shred-his-skin-to-bits tree.

He clung to it in slow motion as well, watching the Jeep slide down, watching the rain fall, watching dirt and debris hit him, hurt him, until finally, tired, he closed his eyes.





13




HE’S OKAY, HE’S OKAY, he’s okay.

This was Ally’s mantra as she crawled to the edge of the embankment where Chance and the Jeep had vanished. When she saw the top of his wet, blond head she nearly collapsed in relief.

He was fifteen feet down, hanging on, his arms straining over his head, to a branch that didn’t look sturdy enough to hold him. Ten feet below him, on a ledge, sat the Jeep, looking as if it’d been purposely parked there. “Chance!”