Page 5

As it so often does, an emptiness spreads in my chest. Even though I know my chronic singleness is of my own choosing, it still aches. But trust is just not something I can offer. Not again.

“She’s doing great. Crawling around everywhere.”

“Hey there, sweets, what are you doing?” I hear Weston’s wife, Reese, call to their daughter through the speakers. “Hi, Ryker!” she adds.

“Hey, Reese, doing okay?”

“Blessed and happy,” she replies. “You coming for dinner on Sunday?”

“I’ll be there. So long as I—” As I’m talking, my headlights hit the side of the bridge. It’s broken, pieces of wood and twisted metal from whatever vehicle went through the barricades.

Unease forms in the pit of my stomach—a heavy weight that settles and alerts me that something isn’t right. I veer off to the side of the road, throw my truck into park, and flip on my hazards so I don’t get hit. Don’t add to the body count if you can help it—it’s rule number one.

“Hang on.” Leaving my phone on the seat, I jump out and race over toward the side.

A pair of red taillights are sticking up from the raging water below. The only reason the partially submerged vehicle is not already a mile downstream is the post from the bridge itself.

But it won’t hold long.

A punch of adrenaline surges through my system, and I race back to my truck. Rain pelts me, stinging against my skin as I rip my door open.

“Call 9-1-1,” I yell as soon as the door is open. “A car just went off the side of Mariner’s Bridge right outside of town. Not sure if there are any injuries. I’m going in.”

“Calling now. Be safe,” Weston’s tone is serious as he ends the call.

Abandoning my phone on the seat, I retrieve my small tactical flashlight from the center console, slam the door, and sprint through the hammering rain to the side of the bridge. I peer down, looking for the car, only to see that its positioning has slipped from being mostly held in place by the beam to teetering on the edge of it.

All while the river rages around it, battering the metal.

Oh no.

I kick off my boots so they won’t weigh me down, shrug out of my jacket, then jump over the side of the bridge into the icy darkness below.

The cold water is a gut punch, knocking the air from my lungs. It stings against my exposed skin as I follow the beam of my flashlight toward the car. It’s completely submerged now, and with every passing second, I worry whoever is inside will be lost.

Please, God. Give me strength.

I grip the door handle on the back and peer inside.

There’s nothing except a duffel bag in the back seat, so I use the handle as leverage to propel myself toward the front. When my hand finally closes around the handle of the driver’s side door, I don’t waste time trying to open it.

The beam of my flashlight shines on the pale face of an unconscious woman: dark hair, large glasses low on the bridge of her nose. Her arms are floating up, suspended by the water, which is already up to her chin and rising quickly.

She has seconds—maybe.

My stomach turns into a pit. Please be alive.

Shoving the flashlight into my pocket, I retrieve the knife I always carry, then flip it around and grip the handle to use the window breaker on the other side. I press it against the glass, then push down until it shatters and water pours inside. Using the same knife, I cut her from the seatbelt and yank her out of the sinking car.

The moment she’s free and my hands are no longer on the car, the current rips us down the river. Water fills my mouth, and I spit it back out as I struggle to keep us both above the surface.

Lord, please be with me now. Please help us both survive this. Let Your will be done. I pray as I leverage the current, swimming diagonally so I can reach shore without completely exhausting myself trying to fight it. There are a lot of things I am capable of. Beating the current of a raging river is not one of them.

Finally, my feet scrape against solid ground. With her tucked in one arm, I reach out and grab the branch of a large tree. Groaning, I pull us both closer toward the edge until I can get my feet underneath me.

Legs wobbly, I manage to stand, lifting her into my arms as I do.

She’s completely limp, and with each passing second, I worry that I may not have gotten to her in time.