I remembered enough of my mother’s “ice driving” lectures to know to turn the wheel into the spin.

Which worked!

But we still slid off the road, into a drainage ditch, rear end–first.

And stopped.

Hard.

God bless the seat belt.

The radio played on. In the moments after we ceased moving, I knew we had dodged a major accident. My heart was hammering.

“Are you okay?” I breathlessly asked Steve, whose yellow visor was cracked in four places but otherwise seemed okay.

He nodded, dazed.

I looked closer, but other than blinking rapidly, he did seem fine.

What about the other car??

I opened the door and slid out of the passenger’s seat, regained my balance, scrambling up the three-foot incline out of the icy ditch to the roadside, snow still coming down like God had a Celestial Snow Doodad and was having Himself far too much fun.

Other than my own rapid breathing, harsh and shallow, it was surprisingly quiet.

In the dark, I could make out the shape of the other vehicle—a large SUV of some sort—stopped across the road, which itself seemed empty but for our two cars. The SUV’s headlights illuminated an impressive distance despite the weather.

The passenger’s-side door opened and a figure hopped out.

I squinted.

The figure started jogging across the road in our direction and as he got closer, a warm feeling inside me started to stir wildly because I knew that gait, I knew that puffy green jacket, and I knew the way he held himself upright, like a member of the royal guard. Because I knew:

“Arthur!”

Thirty

“Finley?!”

There was enough light for me to be able to see the utter astonishment that raced across Arthur’s face.

I didn’t think. I launched myself to hug him tightly. For a moment, I felt his surprise, then he reached a single arm around my waist and relaxed.

“You’re here,” I whispered.

“As are you,” he said in disbelief.

I pulled back to look up at him and saw that disbelief mingled with delight and confusion in his eyes. All completely understandable. I felt them, too. Then his gaze slid from my eyes to my mouth and back again and a stillness fell over both of us. I knew right then and there, standing in the center of an empty, snow-covered road, he wanted to kiss me and I wanted nothing more than to kiss him back. It seemed inevitable, it felt destined, it—

“My man!”

Dammit!

Arthur and I blinked and stepped away from each other as Steve—who had broken free from his post-crash daze to exit the car—pulled Arthur into a hug.

“Guy, we were goin’ lookin’ for you, but then we almost got run over by this tank that came outta freakin’ nowhere!”

“Not a tank,” Arthur clarified, turning to point back at the Hummer where Esha now stood, watching us.