Instead, I shove the keys in my coat pocket and rush out the door. I don’t even try to be quiet. I need to get out of here before my overactive imagination causes me any more problems.

Hopping into the truck, I replay the memory of Logan teaching me how to drive a stick shift. His hand on my thigh, encouraging me.

Focus, Summer. Ground the clutch, put it in neutral . . .

Soon the wheels are crunching against the freshly fallen snow. The truck groans and creaks, clearly unhappy with me and my choices. It takes every scrap of patience and a few emergency prayers, but I manage to get the truck to the property line, turning where I think the road begins.

So much for clear roads.

The sun is setting just ahead, reminding me that I’m mixing dangerous situations here. Driving in the dark for the first time and in the snow? This isn’t the best choice I’ve ever made, but it’s the only one that feels right.

I pull my coat tighter under my chin and reach for the heater, cranking it all the way up. The truck sputters and coughs up nothing. Perfect. Looks like I’ll be freezing for the next hour.

Maybe it’s the cold, or maybe it’s because I’m finally off of the Tate property, but my feverish thoughts begin to clear.

What am I doing? What if I can’t get the truck all the way to the airport? What if I get stranded out here when the sun goes down and have no way to keep warm? What if no one knows I’m gone and I freeze to death?

Flashes of me, blue-lipped and shivering in the middle of nowhere, fill my mind. I’m such a fool. I should turn back. I should never have—

The front left tire hits a big bump hidden by the snow, rocking this old rust bucket to the side. I whip the wheel to the right, trying to realign the wheels, but they don’t respond. Instead, in one horrifyingly real moment, the truck slides off the road straight toward the drainage ditch.

A scream bursts from me as the truck dips into the ditch with a thud, knocking me against the steering wheel with the force of it.

Once I catch my breath, I struggle to change gears, putting the truck into reverse, and slam my foot on the gas, pleading with fate to throw me a bone. Instead, what I get is spinning tires, gaining no traction in the snow and mud. I try again and again and again, tears welling in my eyes.

What am I supposed to do? I’m nowhere near the airport, and who knows how far from the cabin I am.