One

F uck! I slammed on the brakes and watched in horror as something shattered part of my windshield, creating a spider web in the glass. My car skidded along the highway, and my pulse skyrocketed.

I came to a stop on the side of the road, and I looked behind me to see if there were any cars nearby. Hail kept pounding the roof. Wide gaze trained forward again, I spotted a golf ball-sized chunk of ice stuck in the windshield. I flinched as more ice hit the car. Thunder roared, lightning struck out in the field, and the dark gray sky turned black.

Jesus Christ. I blew out a heavy breath and turned on the hazard lights, then sat back and drew my hands through my hair, fisting the short ends. I’d recently cut my hair, and I forgot I couldn’t really tug at it anymore.

A drop of water hit the dashboard. I glared at the broken windshield and killed the engine.

How the hell was I supposed to get out of here now? I could barely look through the window. Either I would have to sink as low as I possibly could in my seat and still duck my head, or I’d have to peer through the glass closer to the middle. One way or another, any driving instructor would fail me.

The storm wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon, that much was clear.

I checked my watch and sighed. My heart rate was finally recovering.

Making it home to DC today was officially out of the question.

I couldn’t help but laugh. What a splendid fucking way to end a week that already belonged in hell.

This was… No, I was done. I had no place at my father’s company. Real estate wasn’t for me, even when he’d kindly created a position for me so I could use my marketing degree. I’d been miserable—going nowhere fast—even before this week. Then I’d received the assignment to fill in for a coworker who was sick. It’d been straightforward enough. Go down to Georgia, mainly the Atlanta area, and meet with the higher-ups at an agency about a possible merger. Three real estate agencies along the East Coast were joining forces.

That had been the plan. After nine disastrous meetings, I couldn’t in good conscience recommend my father go through with the merger. The peachy state of Georgia would take us all down, with properties in bad school districts, straight-up shacks, and unsellable swampland. Meanwhile, my father was selling townhouses in Georgetown, and the Philadelphia agency raked in millions in the townships along the Main Line.

I huffed in frustration and loosened my tie, hungry, irritated, beyond tired, and uncomfortable.

The hailstorm was finally passing, leaving the thunder and pouring rain behind. Rain, I could handle.

I couldn’t stay out here in the middle of nowhere, though. No other car had passed me, so I supposed I was the only stupid one around.

All right, time to get out of here. Time to get wet. I braced myself and stepped out of the car, the rain immediately whipping me in the face. The heat was returning too. It’d been cooler at my last stop, not as humid, but I could feel it now. A cold gust of wind met a humid one. Summer was coming in fast.

Leaning over the windshield, I tried to pinch the chunk of ice— For the love of God! I growled. What the fuck was wrong with me? Why had I not just pushed the thing out from inside the car? Why was I out here?

Instantly infuriated, I wiped rain off my face and dug out the ice from the windshield, and then I hurried back into the car.

As I started the engine, I was met by a cold blast of the AC, not to mention the next What’s wrong with me? moment.

Now the rain was coming in, goddammit.

Fuck my life, I gritted out, gripping the wheel at ten and two.

Two miles to Richmond.

Pulling out from the side of the road, I leaned toward the center console to be able to see the highway. I crept up the deserted road at twelve miles an hour, and still, not a single soul passed me. Saturday in the South. Everyone was at home enjoying a warm supper.

I remembered my way down to Georgia… I remembered the gas station in Richmond where all the Greyhound buses had rolled through. I remembered seeing all the auto shops as I’d filled up on gas. It wasn’t too far away from where I was now, so that was where I would go.

Hell, I hoped they hadn’t closed for the storm. It was a big one. I’d heard them talking about it on the radio, though it hadn’t even registered that I’d be smack-dab in the middle of it. All I’d seen was the image of my bed, coming home, showering off this godforsaken week, and then ordering a pizza.

One auto shop was still open. One. I could cry. From relief or exhaustion, I wasn’t sure.

A man who, coincidentally, shared my name took the keys from me and said I’d gotten lucky with a broken windshield. Then he went on to tell me about the time his daughter had driven home from Virginia Beach and… I couldn’t focus. He was chuckling. There was lightning, both in the story of his and outside the garage bay. Either way, his daughter had survived getting wrapped around a tree.

I looked out at where the rain kept gushing down.

Do you think I’ll get out of here today? I asked, full of doubt. Yet, I hoped desperately.

Luke chuckled again, and he wiped his hands on a dirty rag. Won’t take long, but you shouldn’t drive for twenty-four hours. Gotta give the adhesive time to dry, you see. Plus— he pointed outside —in this weather? You ain’t goin’ nowhere tonight, son.

I definitely wanted to cry, but I wasn’t going to. I was a grown man. I was turning thirty next year. I’d accomplished approximately nothing of what I’d written down as my goals before college, but fuck it, right? Fuck it all. Fuck it all! I didn’t own a home yet. I wasn’t running my own company or climbing the ladder at a nice agency, I hadn’t met the love of my life, I didn’t have a dog, and now this. Stuck in goddamn Richmond. Stuck in a storm.

I was hot and cold. The sticky humidity made me uncomfortably sweaty, at the same time as the harsh winds blasted my wet clothes with icy cold.

Luke recommended a cab to a hotel up the road, and I didn’t have much of a choice, did I?

Thank you, sir, I said politely. Wasn’t his fault my week sucked royally.

Standing in the opening of the bay, I pulled out my phone to call a cab, but I paused. Across the street, there was a bar. Best ribs in Richmond, they promised. That was probably setting the bar low, but I was positively famished. Oh, and alcohol. I really wanted a drink or fourteen.

Is the food over there any good? I asked my mechanic.

Huh? Luke looked across the street. Oh—yeah. He nodded. Definitely. Just stay away from the artichoke dip. It’ll give you—hell. He shuddered, possibly at a memory. No artichoke dip, copy that. I love the cornbread, though. Get that.

No need to mention to him I wasn’t very fond of cornbread. Instead, I nodded in thanks, and I made sure he had my number and that he could call whenever. Then I left the garage bay and stepped out into the storm, quickly picking up the pace to dart across the empty road.

Surely, this week couldn’t get any worse.

I yanked the door open and…fucking tripped. I tripped, okay? I tripped. Because why not? Why wouldn’t I trip? I cursed and steadied myself by grabbing on to the nearest—

Ow!

I’m sorry! Appalled and shocked, I stumbled back to gain my bearings. I hadn’t been close enough to grab on to a barstool. I saw high tables and chairs scattered about, and in an attempt to steady myself, I’d sent a poor young woman to the floor instead.

Holy shit, I couldn’t believe myself. My day had crossed over to bizarre at this point.

I swallowed hard and scrubbed at my face, wiping away raindrops and wishing the floor could swallow me whole. The smell of grilled food