Crash Into You

1. Daphne

Chapter One

Daphne

A moose lumbered across the road in front of me, and I came to an abrupt stop, the SUV jerking when I slammed my foot on the brakes. “Holy s**t!”

No one was in the SUV with me to hear my irreverent reaction. Although I’d done some research and knew wildlife was abundant in Alaska, it was still rather startling.

While the moose appeared to be moving slowly, its long stride covered the ground at a deceptively quick pace. Inside of a few seconds, the animal had crossed the road into a field abloom in fuchsia flowers. Its rump disappeared into a cluster of evergreen trees. I gave my head a small shake and realized I was stopped in the middle of a highway. It wasn’t exactly busy, but nonetheless, it was a highway.

Laughing to myself, I eased off the brake and put my foot on the gas pedal again. Alaska’s roads weren’t crowded. As I glanced to the side while picking up speed, my breath caught at the ocean glinting under the sunshine splashing across its surface.

To one side of this highway was mountains and trees, and to the other was Cook Inlet, stretching inland from the Pacific Ocean into Alaska. I’d already counted two glaciers and marveled at the way the ocean lapped at the base of the mountains on the other side as I drove along.

My GPS wasn’t being too helpful. And I’d quickly discovered that the cell reception wasn’t great here either. It was spotty at best and seemed only decent when I passed through the small towns scattered along this highway, which could take me to the farthest western point in the United States if I followed it that far.

“Dammit,” I said as I glanced at the GPS on my dashboard screen.

The marker on the map still showed me sitting in a parking lot in Anchorage. “Please don’t tell me you’re broken.”

I wished the friendly computerized voice would assure me she was not, in fact, broken. But she—the GPS voice in this SUV I’d rented, that is—remained stubbornly silent at my plea.

“Thanks for nothing,” I muttered.

Anxiety, the worst kind of close friend, tightened in my chest. For the past year and a half of my life, I felt as if I’d been flung off a cliff with nothing in sight. I still felt as if I was spinning helplessly, trying to find a sense of equilibrium and somewhere to land. The last thing I needed was to get geographically lost rather than being metaphorically lost in my mind and heart.

“It’s okay,” I assured myself. “You know where you’re going.”

Side note: emotional trauma could lead to lots of soliloquies. Out loud. Thank God, I was alone more often than not, or I was certain people might consider me crazy.

Roughly an hour later, I was cursing my silly decision to try to be easy-going about my planning. Cell reception was total s**t. My GPS seemed to truly be useless. To add to the mess, my SUV apparently had some kind of electrical malfunction because the speedometer kept blinking in and out. I presumed said electrical problem was the reason my GPS had abandoned me in my time of need.

“You’re just looking for the name of the resort. You can find it. There will be a sign.”

Yup, conversations with myself were the thing these days.

In most places, highways had signs—lots of signs—but Alaska kept it simple. There were mileage signs marking the distance to various towns, but I hadn’t seen a single billboard. I recalled reading that Alaska had banned billboards upon its inception as a state. I supposed that was nice in theory, although I really, really wouldn’t have minded one announcing my upcoming destination right about now.

The view was spectacular, and I’d seen several more moose as I’d traveled south. The one small problem, though, was that I was flying blind. The sun was starting its bow, and I was praying to reach my destination before it disappeared behind the mountains. Although it was August, the mountain peaks still had snow. Climate change was coming, but Alaska was hanging in there, at least at some elevations.

Walker Adventures was roughly twenty miles outside of one of Alaska’s gems, Diamond Creek. Diamond Creek, the adjacent town near the resort, was where I intended to spend a month. That’s right, an entire month in the wilderness. Me, Daphne Bell, doing something so wildly out of the ordinary that basically everyone I knew thought I was crazy.

I needed this almost as much as I needed air. My actual life, the one I left behind, was an epic mess and littered with regret, recrimination, and almost unbearable pain. Maybe, just maybe, I could piece myself together if I was far enough away.

“Oh! A sign! All you have to say is resort,” I muttered to the green highway sign in question. “A little specificity never hurt anyone.”

Fuck it. I took that left turn. The pavement stretched for a few miles and then transitioned. “Oh, hell,” I murmured as the little blue SUV rumbled confidently over the gravel road. At least I made sure to rent a trusty vehicle with 4-wheel drive.

I kept on going, telling myself the same thing over and over again. You’ll find it, you’re meant to be here, and it’s all going to be okay.

Considering I was thoroughly acquainted with just how not okay life could be, my faith in the universe was shaky at best.

Roughly forty-five minutes later, with one wheel mired deep in a mud puddle, I was staring at a bear. “Are you a brown bear or a grizzly bear?” I asked from the safety of my SUV as said bear ambled along the opposite side of the road, giving me nothing more than a cursory glance.

“Since when do roads not have shoulders?” I looked at my cell phone and glared at the no signal warning. “f**k you.”

The bear in question had caused me to swerve off the edge of the road, promptly dropping one rear wheel deep in the mud. I tapped my GPS button on the dashboard screen but got nothing. I didn’t even know if I’d been speeding on the gravel road. My SUV seemed to be working, but the bells and whistles definitely weren’t.

I heard a plane above and looked up at the sky through my windshield. Mind you, I didn’t dare open my window in case the bear came over and ate my face.

“Oh, the plane’s landing!”

The small plane descended in the sky and appeared to be landing not too awfully far away. But as the crow flew, or in this case literally as the plane flew, it could be as far as a few miles away. I didn’t dare climb out and walk. Because: bears and God only knew what else.

My stomach growled, and I slapped my hand over it. I hadn’t brought enough snacks. The resort promised a dinner tonight, and I thought for sure I would get there with hours to spare, so I’d eaten my last granola bar a few hours ago.

Leaning my head back against the seat, I took a deep breath and willed myself not to cry. I was going to be fine. If I had to walk, I would walk.

I heard a rustling sound, lifted my head, and screamed.

The bear was now right outside my car! Eating blueberries. I might not be a wildlife expert, but I knew blueberries when I saw them, and I’d run my car off the side of the road beside a small patch of them.

The bear lifted his head and eyed me dispassionately. I thought the bear was a he, although I had no idea why. While I was truly scared of the bear, he was a magnificent creature with gilded brown fur. He stared at me curiously for a moment after my scream, then he lowered his head and continued to eat. Somehow, it seemed ridiculous that this giant creature was nibbling—yes, nibbling—on blueberries.

I watched quietly, forgetting my predicament and forgetting the other disaster of my life as this massive bear that could probably kill me with nothing more than a gentle swat of its paw, meandered along eating blueberries. A few moments later, the bear disappeared into the trees, and I was alone again. A shaft of loneliness struck me so hard that it took my breath away.

“Daphne, you need a plan,” I told myself sternly once I managed to take a breath.

I didn’t know where to even begin with a plan, except hiking down this road and hoping it took me to the resort.

That spinning anxiety, a f*****g whirling dervish, picked up in my chest again. I really didn’t know what to do other than walk, and I could only pray I didn’t have to walk too far.

Just when I was about to lose the battle with my tears, a truck appeared around the corner of the road ahead.

“Yay!” I literally lifted my fist in a cheer. I had no idea who this was, but I prayed they would stop.

Not thinking, I clambered out of the SUV and ran to the middle of the road, waving my arms like a crazy woman.

The black truck rolled to a stop. When I saw the man behind the steering wheel, I got a little intimidated. Friendly wasn’t exactly the word that came to mind at his appearance.

The truck door opened, and he stepped out. My knees suddenly felt like liquid. Oh. My. God. His eyes flicked to my SUV, where it sat hanging off the side of the road with one wheel buried in the mud before his gaze landed on me. Good thing I had a few seconds to prepare myself.

When his glacial blue eyes locked with mine, an electric jolt sizzled through my body, setting every nerve ending alight with sparks. The man was tall and just plain built. His broad shoulders filled out his T-shirt. My eyes traveled down his arms, lean and muscled with a dusting of gold hair. He wore battered and faded jeans, which dipped at the waist when he hooked his thumb in a belt loop.

My eyes didn’t miss the strip of tanned skin just below his T-shirt when he tugged down the waistband and revealed one side of a muscled V. I swallowed and dragged my eyes up. He had a jaw cut from granite and starkly angled cheekbones with an aristocratic nose. His lips were perfect. And then, as if to t*****e me, he had a dimple in the center of his chin.

I had clearly lost my mind because I felt my cheeks heat as my skin prickled all over.

“You must be Daphne,” he said, his tone crisp.

All that came out of me in return was a gurgle. This man not only stole my breath but he also snatched away my ability to speak. This was new for me.