Stevie’s thumbs quickly typed out, I’m ready now.

She shoved a stocking hat down over her red hair and put on her coat. She stepped outside and heard the rattle of a four-wheeler coming down the path. A visual of the gray sky dropping down to cover her with darkness made her chest tighten. She wasn’t ready to get back on one of those vehicles, but the sound was getting louder and louder, and then Mia was right there at the end of the porch steps.

“Crawl on behind me,” Mia said.

Stevie wanted to shake her head and say that she would walk, but Mia needed to see a strong, fearless woman, not a whimpering weakling that was afraid to get back on the horse—so to speak. She walked down the porch steps, slung a leg over the seat, and willed her heart to stop beating so hard.

The trip up to the house only took a few minutes, but Stevie gripped the edge of the seat so hard that her knuckles began to ache. A coyote howled out in the distance, and she remembered that scary feeling when she barely came to and thought the coyotes were going to eat her.

“We’re here.” Mia’s voice came through her fear. “Are you okay, Stevie?”

“I’m fine”—she managed a weak smile—“just thinking about the other four-wheeler and hoping that it can be repaired.”

Mia had killed the engine and was already off the vehicle. “My dad can fix anything. Trust me. Let’s get inside where it’s warm and have some breakfast.”

Stevie let go of her grip and got off the vehicle. “After that supper you brought us and a second piece of pie before I went to sleep, I shouldn’t be hungry for a week, but I’m starving.”

“It always seems like we need more food when it’s so cold.” She held the back door open for Stevie to go inside ahead of her. “The weatherman said that the temperatures will start rising today and tomorrow. That means by the weekend, the roads might be clear, and we can go back to normal.”

Stevie wondered just what her new normal would be when she got to go home. Would she slip right back into her veterinarian job, and into the depression she’d been fighting since her mother’s death? No answers came floating down from the ceiling, so she tucked her hat and gloves into the pocket of her coat and hung it on a hook right inside the door of the utility room.

“Good morning,” Addy said from the kitchen. “How are you feeling?”

Stevie crossed the small utility/mudroom and stopped in the kitchen. “I’m really fine, not sure I even have a concussion. I think maybe what I was feeling was the result of getting the wind knocked out of me and being so cold.”