Into the Storm (Signal Bend #3)(59)

About 150 miles from Signal Bend, the snow still heavy and coming straight at the windshield in chunky flakes, the highway surface white, slushy, and thick, Show had reduced his speed to what felt like a crawl. But he had the highway to himself for the most part, especially on his side. Every now and then a vehicle, usually a semi, passed by on the other side, but they were not his concern. Despite the tension of the drive, or perhaps because of it, he was starting to get sleepy. Not bad yet, but the idea that he was going to have to pull over and find a bed, whether he wanted to or not, had crossed his consciousness.

He was considering the pros and cons of pulling off at the next exit when his windshield filled with brilliant, blinding white light and the world filled with sound. Instinctively, he turned the wheel. The truck skidded and spun, and then there was a moment of weightlessness.

And then there was nothing.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN



Shannon hadn’t heard from Show all day. Not since yesterday morning, in fact. He’d said he’d be home by dark on Christmas Eve, and dark was almost three hours past. He wasn’t answering his phone, either.

But the weather was crappy, and cell reception was bad, and she didn’t know if she was overreacting or not.

She didn’t know what to do.

There was also a tiny voice in her head whispering that he’d gone to see his ex-wife, with whom he had children. Maybe there was another reason he wasn’t back home with her. But no, that was crazy. Everything he’d told her about Holly indicated that he was glad to be past her. Well, almost everything. He missed his girls, and they were with their mom. And Show was a family man. And he’d only been with Shannon as a couple for a few weeks.

She shook her head. No. Crazy.

But where was he? Was he hurt? Was he stranded? She was finally working up the courage to call Isaac and risk being exposed as clingy—or to be told that Show was done with her. She’d picked up and put down her phone three times. But she was being absurd. Weak. She paced the parlor a few more times, completely alone in the inn, on Christmas Eve, when she saw headlights coming down the drive. At last!

She grabbed her sweater and ran out on the porch to meet Show.

But it wasn’t Show’s truck. She knew that, even in the dark, right away. The lights were different. It was Isaac. He got out of the truck and crossed quickly to her.

“You need to come with me, Shannon. Lilli’s gonna run things for you here.”

Her stomach turned to ice. “What happened to him?”

“Semi took him out in the storm, south of St. Louis. He was airlifted to Barnes Hospital.”

Shannon headed straight for Isaac’s truck. He caught her arm.

“You’re gonna need a warmer coat, sweetheart. And shoes. Do you need a purse?”

She stared at her bare feet, turning blue on the cold surface of the porch floor. Isaac pulled her inside.

“Come on, Shannon. Get it together.”

Get it together. Why couldn’t she think? Her brain had turned into a void, somehow. A void that was filling with chaos. She was desperately scared—so scared that everything inside her wanted to run. But she couldn’t.

Isaac shook her. “Shannon!” He took her arm and pulled her toward her apartment. “Where’s your coat, your boots? Come on, girl. We gotta get moving.”

Her brain kicked back into gear when they were standing in her apartment. She didn’t like Isaac in here.

She didn’t know why. She liked Isaac just fine. But this was her space. She only liked Show in here. She pulled on her boots and grabbed her warm hooded parka, checking to make sure her gloves were in the pockets. Then she hooked her purse over her arm and followed Isaac out.

As he was helping her into the truck, she asked, “How bad?”

“Bad.” His face was grim. “We’ll talk on the way.”

oOo

Shannon sat and stared out the windshield, working her head through what Isaac had told her. A semi had crossed the median in the storm the night before and hit Show almost head-on. The impact had sent him through the windshield. Show never wore a seatbelt. He said he hated being cooped up in metal enough as it was without strapping himself into it. His injuries were bad; that’s all the detail about them Isaac had.

But it had apparently been a blessing that he’d been thrown clear of the truck, which had ended up in a crumpled heap fifty feet below the highway.

It had taken so long to track anybody down for him because the emergency contact card he carried in his wallet listed Holly and her Arkansas information. Both Isaac and Shannon had found that surprising, but it was true. The state troopers had not been able to reach Holly. When, hours later, one of the troopers had found Show’s kutte in the remains of his truck, they’d contacted Sheriff Tyler, who’d contacted Isaac.

So Show had spent Christmas Eve alone in the hospital.

“Shannon.”

She turned at Isaac’s voice. He glanced over to meet her eyes, then returned to watch the road. The roads were clear, but there were icy patches.

“I guess you know Show’s had to live through more than most.”

“Yeah. He told me. It’s terrible.”

He shook his head. “Not my point.”

“Which is?” She had a feeling she knew where he was going. She tried to find some outrage with which to meet it, but she was too worried.