Stacey Joy Netzel Boxed Set by Stacey Joy Netzel

what
followed pissed me off and shamed me at the same time. I usually
dealt with the memories by blocking them out and continuing my life
as if it’d never happened.
    And I would do that again by skipping the
reunion. I wasn’t a coward; I just didn’t need another in-my-face
round of reminders.
    My front tires hit a dip in the road and
threw slush in all directions just as a low pair of headlights cut
through the falling snow. I realized the car was half in my lane
only seconds before the other vehicle jerked to the right and
avoided a head-on collision.
    “ Sonofabitch .”
    Talk about a reality
check. Attention on the road,
man .
    Heart thumping, I applied the brakes,
because no way that vehicle had avoided the ditch. Even if the
driver had managed to correct his steering, the shoulders of the
roads were still soft and mucky from the endless April showers we’d
received.
    I pulled over as far as I dared on my own
side of the road and flipped on my hazards. Hunching my shoulders
against the wet, blowing snow, I hurried across the road to where
the other car’s tires had left a muddy trail through the snow. I
slipped a bit on my way to the driver’s door and bent down, but it
was hard to see clearly through the fogged glass.
    I could tell the driver was a woman, and
she’d leaned her head back on the seat, so I rapped a knuckle on
the window. She jumped, but powered down the window.
    “Are you okay?” I asked while scoping out
the situation.
    “Um…I think so,” she replied.
    “I don’t think you’re getting out of here
without a tow truck.”
    “Great,” I heard the woman say.
    I took a closer look at the front of her
car. Oh, yeah, nothing was getting that baby out except a tow truck
with a cable and a winch. Not to mention, I’d happened to catch the
rental plate, so it was best to leave it to the professionals for
insurance reasons. I pulled my cell from my pocket and dialed my
friend, Dave Bensen—the professional with insurance.
    While the phone rang, I turned back to check
out the woman in the car. Her back was to me as she leaned toward
the passenger seat, and all I saw was long, dark hair. When she
pulled a cell phone from her purse, I said, “Don’t bother. My buddy
Dave owns the local towing service.”
    She settled back into her seat as Dave
answered. “What’s up, Nelsen?”
    I cupped my hand around the phone and turned
my back to the wind so I could hear better. “Hey, how’s it going?”
I asked.
    “Busy,” Dave said.
    “Any chance you got a free truck?”
    “Are you kidding? With this storm all my
drivers are booked for at least the next three hours. Everyone
forgets how to drive in snow after just a couple weeks of spring.
Why?”
    “There’s a woman in the ditch on Highway 32
right before my road. Can you schedule her in and tow her car to
the diner?”
    “Sure, I’ll add it to the list,” Dave
said.
    “Thanks.” I gave him the make and model
before hanging up and turning back to the woman. The snow blew
between us and I had to raise my voice to be heard over the wind.
“His guys are booked up on calls until at least eight. I can give
you a ride to town, if you’d like to wait at the Silver Falls
Diner, or until you can call someone to come get you?”
    “Aren’t you going to the reunion?”
    The question took me totally by surprise and
I answered without thinking as I bent closer to the open window.
“Yeah, how did you—”
    And that’s when I got my
first good look at her face. Whoa . Conscious effort kept my jaw
from dropping. “ Summer? ”
    She smiled like I remembered in high school.
Then it disappeared and she said, “You remembered.”
    Those two pointed words
said she remembered. Guilt socked me right in the gut. “Of course…how
could I not?”
    Up on the road, my neighbor’s maroon car
crept by, giving me the perfect reason to avert my eyes from her
unwavering gaze. I lifted a hand to Mike, but felt the weight of
Summer’s silence. Pressure makes