The Dead of Winter (Seasons of Jefferson: Book 2) (14 page)

Crap.
Why can’t I remember getting out of the truck?
I swear someone helped me.
“How did I get out? I would not have left her alone.”

“We don’t know. You were already lying on the ground when we found you. You were still conscious. Don’t you remember? You were yelling at us to get her out.”

“You said you saw her moving. So, she was still okay after the truck rolled into the river?”

“I’m not sure how
okay
she was after being shot at. And, we don’t know how many times you guys rolled down the mountain. She could’ve been pretty banged up, but I know she was still breathing. Kaitlyn told me she was gasping at a pocket of air when she found her. The water was freezing. That poor girl. I don’t know how she was breathing at all. They didn’t give up though. Kaitlyn kept going under, time and time again. Brody started yelling at her to stop. I wondered why, but then I noticed the truck start to wobble back and forth. Just as Brody snatched Kaitlyn up, the truck escaped downstream. She was still in it, Caden.”

Visions of my truck being taken down the river invades my mind. Anxiety hits me when I picture Peyton struggling to hold her breath in the icy-cold, rushing water. I can’t handle the suffocating thought.

“We all thought she was dead. The truck was completely submerged. All I could see was the swift current, and a glimmer of metal tapping the surface. None of us thought she survived. It was too damn cold. The boys could barely make it out of the water to get back to you. I watched Brody struggle to breathe life back into you. By the time I looked up, Kaitlyn was gone and Mason disappeared after her.”

“So they saved her? Kaitlyn and Mason?”

“Well, sort of. She used your pocketknife to cut the seatbelt. She got herself out, but she died on the beach. They did CPR on her, until the Forest Service got there and took over. They finally got her breathing again in the helicopter. After that, you know just about as much as I do.”

“I’m sorry you guys had to go through that, and I’m sorry I was too weak to help. This whole thing is making me sick.” I roll down my window to see if the cold air will help stifle my growing nausea. A loud belch escapes me, letting Jenna know that my stomach is ready to blow.

“I think you might need a break. Don’t beat yourself up. The thing is, she was always your priority. I know you were swerving to avoid getting shot. I know you were trying to keep her from getting plowed into by Pistol’s truck. The last thing out of your mouth before you passed out, were your frantic pleas to get her help. Not for yourself. For her. YOU did not kill her. YOU saved her. YOU kept her from getting crushed. YOU kept her from getting shot. YOU called attention to her whereabouts. Stop taking the blame, and get your mind off of it. You’ve had enough for one day.”

“I’m not sure what to say.” The thought of my girlfriend trapped has my heart racing. “My stomach is in knots right now. I can’t wrap my mind around Peyton drowning in my truck. Gunshots. Pistol. It’s a lot to process, but thank you for letting me know what you saw. It helps to know that I didn’t go down without a fight. I just can’t remember
trying,
and it’s killing me to think I almost let her die.”

“Well, remember what I said. You did all you could do. So, let’s get you out of here, away from this place, so you don’t have to think about it. I’m thinking coffee might get you perked up?”

“Perked up? Always playing with words, aren’t you?”

IT’S BEEN TWO WEEKS SINCE
I’ve seen Peyton. She continues to refuse my visits. I know her mom’s embarrassed every time she has to send me away, but also feels the need to protect her little girl. Thank God for Jenna. She’s been spending every spare moment with me, trying to cheer me up. Last weekend we played Xbox and chatted with people all over the world. Today we’ve already had two cups of coffee and watched six episodes of
Duck Dynasty.
It hasn’t done a whole heck of a lot for my mindset, but it did give me an idea. I’m not sure how I’m going to pull it off with no vehicle and an overprotective best friend, but I could really use a break from my new normal. I roll over on the couch and look down at Jenna, who’s currently perfecting a candy cane shank. She’s pulled her red beanie down over her eyes, but I can still see her eyeballs peeking up at me through the holes. She looks like a gnome rolling around down on the floor. “Hey, nut-ball, what are you doing?”

She holds the pointer in my direction, jabbing the deadly treat at my face. “Trying to think of a way to stop you from watching another episode. Ugh, can I go home yet?” she groans.

“Well, I have an idea, but you’ve got to drop your weapon to hear it.”

She shoves the poker back in her mouth and pulls it out with a pop, “You scared?”

“Of you? Nah, I just don’t feel like getting impaled by a creepy, little Elf on the Shelf this afternoon.”

“So, what’s your plan?” she asks, biting the pointed tip off of her candy cane. She holds it up, crunching. “You said you’d tell me when I got rid of my weapon.” Grinning sarcastically, Jenna flashes me with her painted red teeth.

“Wanna drive me to my dad’s store to see if we can get the keys to his Arctic Cats? I’ve got to get out of here and blow off some steam.”

She pulls her beanie off of her eyes and sits up with renewed excitement. “Snowmobiling sounds like a good time. I bet Deer Mountain has some wicked snow.”

And she bites.

“Wait a sec.” She narrows her eyes looking me up and down. I can feel her pulling me into her full body scanner.

Crap
.

She pinches her face to the side, twisting her lips into a grimace. “I’m not so sure about this. Can you handle a snowmobile with your arm?”

Can I handle a snowmobile? Me? Caden Woodley, the guy who’s been driving equipment longer than he could walk?
I try to hide the incredulous look that’s pounding its way to the surface of my face. I raise my half-healed, slung arm, and smirk, “You’re kidding me, right? This ole thing’s not gonna keep me from a little snow therapy. It only takes one good arm to steer. I can still handle that machine like a boss. I just can’t be out on
the road
while I’m on meds.”

“The road. I didn’t think about that.” Jenna stands up and walks over to the window, pulling the curtain to the side. “There’s like six inches of snow on the ground.”

“So,” I shrug.

“Did you forget I drive a Beetle? We’re not going anywhere with my tinker toy.”

Crash and burn.

Damn it. Curse the river for eating my truck. I have to think about this for a minute.
“You’re right, we can’t make it to Deer Mountain with your elf-mobile.”
Who can I get to make this happen?
“I’ll tell you what. Let’s see if we can get a group together so they can help you babysit me.”

“It’s going to take a pretty experienced babysitter to keep you out of trouble. Any ideas?”

“Maybe Brody or Mason will take us. They both have four wheel drives. What do you say? Huh?” I nudge her on the arm. “Do you think they’d want to go?”

“Don’t give them a choice. Text them and tell them to get their rears over here.”

“Aye, aye,” I salute and pull out my phone.

Me: You boys up for some fun? I need a distraction from my depressing life.

“Hey, boss,” I draw her attention away from the window. “I just sent a group text. Hopefully they get back to us soon.” My phone starts chiming almost instantly. “They must be bored too.”

Brody: What’re you thinking?

Me: Snow hogs!!!

Mason: What the hell are snow hogs?

Me: Snowmobiles, dumbshit :D~!

Kaitlyn: Good luck getting Dad to hand over the keys to his babies.

Me: Oh, he’ll give ‘em to me. I just need to grovel a little … let him know how depressed I am.

Kaitlyn: Tell him it’s cheaper than therapy. That line always works for me.

Mason: I’m in, if your dad lets us.

Me: Don’t doubt me. I’ll keep at it til he bends to my will. Haha >:)

Kaitlyn: Yeah, the evil twin always gets his way.

Me: My way? Right. Have you seen your closet?

Kaitlyn: Speaking of closets. If we’re going to do this, we need to come get my riding gear.

Me: You’ve got to come anyway. We need someone with four wheel drive to get us down to Dad’s store.

Mason: Ah, I see why we’re invited.

Me: No, it’s not like that. You know we have more fun when we all go together.

I look over at Jenna, whose thumbs are rapidly pounding at her phone. “They’re taking a minute to get back to me. Why don’t you text T and make sure she’s convincing Brody to come? Ask her if you can borrow some of her extra riding gear while you’re at it.”

Jenna gives me a thumbs up. “Already on it.”

Brody: Well, it looks like we’re coming. When do you want us to head over?

Me: The sooner the better. I’ll call Dad and hook us up.

It took a little convincing, but Dad finally caved, handing over the keys to his rig and four snowmobiles. With Brody at the wheel, we pulled into the park at about two o’clock. “Hey Bro, could you drop us off over by those bushes? I can’t hold it any longer,” Kaitlyn’s shaky voice peeps out from the back seat of the cab.

“You’re not going out there alone,” he warns, watching Kaitlyn through the rearview mirror.

He’s right, they still haven’t found Pistol. Our first priority is to keep T safe.

“I’m not taking you to the bathroom with me.”

I pull down the mirrored visor to catch Kaitlyn squirming uncomfortably, and rolling her eyes. “Well, we’ve got to send someone with her.” A vision of Jenna holding her candy cane shank, enters my mind. “Jenna has some badass weapons in her arsenal.” I pretend to pop a candy cane out of my mouth and jab it at the air. “She can handle it.”

“You made me destroy the best one,” she teases, “but I’ve still got these,” she flexes her arms, kissing both of her biceps.

Looks
a little scrawny to me.
“Yeah, on second thought, Mason, maybe you’d better stand guard.”

“Got it covered. I won’t look, girls. Promise.”

We let Mason and the girls out near the park entrance and make our way toward a prime parking spot. Just as Brody begins to make the wide turn into the opening, a jacked up, white F-250 whips in front of us like a bat out of hell. Brody slams on the brakes. We slide a good ten feet, just catching the corner of their snowmobile trailer.

We come to a screeching halt and sit quietly for a couple seconds, as shock settles over the cab. I try to look over the hood, but I can’t see much. I shake my head, mumbling to a wide-eyed Brody, “We didn’t hit it hard. I’m sure there’s no damage. Let’s get out and check.”

Brody nods his head up and down, not saying a word. I can see he’s shaken.

“Man, that thing came out of nowhere. Good thing you weren't going very fast.” I try to reassure him that he didn’t do anything wrong.

No sooner
do we get out of the truck, than a little streak of hair, hands, and words, jumps in front of us yelling, “Damn it! Which one of you two jerks was driving that death trap anyway?”

Speechless, Brody, subtly raises his hand. My eyes travel from his stunned face back to the white truck, finally coming to rest on the squealing fireball.

Well, this is not who I was expecting to jump out of that truck. How does she even reach the gas pedal?
I take a minute to survey the spunky character standing in front of me with her hands now resting on her hips. She’s a tiny thing, all wrapped up in country girl camo. With her curly, brown hair sprouting out in all directions, she reminds me of the camo-wrapped Christmas package that’s sitting under my tree at home. She certainly has my attention.
Olive skin. Rosy cheeks. Big round, mahogany eyes.
She’s a cute, little thing, and I can’t help laughing at my false perception of who just cut us off. I would’ve sworn a 200 pound redneck would’ve been behind the wheel.

“What!?!” She throws up her hands and looks me up and down. “What’re you laughing at? I don’t see the humor in this.”

I watch her curly hair bob back and forth as she inspects my dad’s truck resting over the top of her trailer. She looks up at Brody, “I think it’s fine, but I can’t see under that clunky heap.”

He nods his head up and down, “K.”

I watch her eyebrows travel up her forehead. “Well, what are you waiting for? Move it!”

“Hhhow?” Brody stutters.

“It’s not rocket science. Your truck is still running. Put the dang thing in reverse, and MOVE it! I need to see what you did to my trailer.”

I’m still laughing at the nearly lifeless statue of Brody getting popped by this pint-sized firecracker. My mouth drops, when I watch her thrust her shoulder into Brody’s chest as she streaks by, jumps into the truck, and backs it away.

We’re looking at each other in disbelief when the hissing ground flower spins her way back to her trailer. She looks back over her shoulder and yells, “I guess if you want to get anything done around here, you have to do it yourself.” She shakes her head, inspecting the corner of her trailer. “You’re lucky it didn’t do anything. I guess I can’t expect city slickers to know how to drive in the snow. So where did you get your driver’s license anyway, a Cracker Jack box?”