“Did you forget which side of the road to drive on?” I teased.

He arched a single brow. “I did not.”

“I did,” Esha called out to us. “And I think now would be an excellent time for the three of you to get out of the middle of the road.”

As if on cue, we all heard the unmistakable sound of a fast-approaching car.

Arthur, Steve, and I hustled to join Esha moments before a small, dark pickup truck zoomed by, so fast I could barely make out the four people crammed in the cab, laughing and not paying attention, including the driver, Kimmy Bunting’s little sister, who never paid attention to anything anyway and very likely shouldn’t have been driving. And it hit me in that moment that if they had been the ones to encounter the wrong-lane Hummer there was almost no chance they would have reacted fast enough to avoid a collision. It could have been, would have been, a very different outcome.

My gaze met Arthur’s own wide eyes and I knew he’d had the same realization.

“We should get going,” Esha said, turning to Steve. “Are you all right to drive?”

Steve pointed to his own chest. “In general? I mean, mostly. But I just scarfed an edible after that wreck to get my”—he made a terrified face—“down and then my night visor got all busted all up and—”

“So, no, then.”

“No.”

Esha turned to me. “Then it’s up to you, Finley.”

I did a double take. “Me? But what about Arthur?”

Arthur held up his left hand. “I actually slipped on some ice while refueling the Humvee to come here and my wrist is possibly sprained, or at the very least unhappy with me.” I noticed a small, fresh cut and some swelling around the base of his hand.

“Hence my turn behind the wheel,” Esha clarified. “Which I believe we can all agree should not be repeated.”

Concern rippled through me. “Are you okay?” I asked Arthur, stepping closer.

“Do you need an edible?” Steve held up a small Ziplock with what appeared to be cookies. “They’re legal here now.”

“No, thank you. Very kind.” He met my eyes and I saw them grow gentler. “I will be fine after it’s iced and rested.”

“But he cannot drive in these conditions,” Esha said. “Which means you have to get us back to the inn.”

It felt strangely biblical when she said it like that. On Christmas Eve, in the middle of a snowstorm. And also terrifying, which must have shown on my expression.

“You can do it, Finley,” Esha said kindly. “I have faith in you.”

She placed the keys in my hand and I felt an enormous responsibility. But I met her dark eyes and a calmness settled over me. And a deep regret.

I hugged her tightly. “I’m sorry.”

“Oh, darling, whatever for?” She sounded amused but also pleased.