Page 52 of Fool Me (Timberline Peak #1)

CHAPTER

THIRTY-NINE

ATLAS

It’s not an emergency.

At least, not in the usual sense, but Marilyn is falling apart on the other end of the line. If I had to guess, she’s on the verge of a panic attack.

Marilyn’s voice is trembling on the other end of the call, and in the background, I can hear frantic squawking—sharp, offended, and very much alive.

“She won’t eat, and her eye’s been twitching and I just—she’s never acted like this before,” she says, barely holding it together. “You always know what to do. I’m sorry, I know it’s Founder’s Day, and you probably had plans, but I didn’t know who else to call.”

I press my hand to the side of my face, exhaling slowly. “It’s okay. I’m glad you called.”

Betty White is fine. Stressed? Maybe. Acting out? Probably. Birds like Betty White mirror what they see, and Marilyn’s been lonely since her husband left again.

I talk her through some calming techniques—soft lighting, grounding exercises, the 5-4-3-2-1 method. By the time we hang up, her voice is steadier, and the parrot’s stopped yelling “Mommy!” at top volume.

She thanks me three times before I can even say goodbye.

I slip my phone into my back pocket, shake out my hands, and head back into the bar.

Jude’s is still just as loud as when I walked out. More people pour in before the nighttime chairlift rides start. I push through the crowd, eyes scanning for the white tank top Harlowe was wearing, and the blonde hair I always spot first.

Nothing.

I head to the bar stool where I left her. Empty.

She’s not by the dart boards, on the dance floor, or anywhere else.

My chest tightens. She wouldn’t have just left.

“Jude!” I call, grabbing his attention as he pours a beer. “You seen Harlowe?”

Jude frowns, setting the drink down. “She left with your brother about five minutes ago.”

“She did what ?” I say a little too loudly. He gives me an apologetic look.

I’m halfway to the door, unsure where I’m going, just that I need to find her when my phone buzzes in my hand.

Harlowe.

My whole body exhales the second I see her name, but it’s short-lived. The second I answer, I know something’s wrong.

“Harlowe?”

“Give me the phone.” My brother’s muffled yells are just barely audible over the noise from the bar. I push outside.

“Canyon, please, you’re going to crash.”

The fear in Harlowe’s voice has my knees buckling as I look from side to side for someone who can help. Sheriff Evans is getting into his car; I break into a sprint.

“Phone, bitch.” My blood runs old as my hands come down on the hood of the sheriff’s SUV. There’s more yelling from my brother, but I don’t hear the words, just the pleading response from the woman I love.

“I’m sorry, Canyon. For all of it. I’ll do whatever you want, just please pull over. You can leave me on the side of the highway for all I care. Just, please, let me go.”

“No, it’s too late for that. You already took everything from me,” he tells her and then the phone goes dead.

My heart punches into my ribs. Evans gets out, looking furious, but I don’t give him a chance to yell at me.

“It’s Harlowe. Canyon has her in a car. She’s in trouble.” Saying the words aloud makes it real, and it’s like someone yanked the rug out from under me. I struggle to stay upright, his car supporting most of my weight.

The Sheriff’s face hardens instantly. “Get in.”

I don’t waste a breath. I climb in and the lights flash to life, sirens up, tires peeling out.

“What do you know?” he barks.

“The highway.” I blink rapidly trying to stay calm enough to get it out. “She mentioned the highway—asked him to leave her there. I think they are in Canyon’s Tacoma. I think he was high.” Everything is choppy, but I just try to share anything that will help her.

“Good job,” Evans says, eyes locked on the road as he grabs the radio mic.

“Dispatch, be advised, possible domestic in progress. Female party last seen at Hey Jude’s suspected to be heading out of town on Teton Spur 9.

Vehicle is a gray Toyota Tacoma, unknown plate, registered to Canyon Kane.

Driver possibly impaired. Attempting to locate—priority response. ”

He hooks the mic back on the dash and floors the accelerator. Everything blurs out the window.

“We’re going to find her, right?” I ask numbly.

He doesn’t look at me, just presses harder on the gas as he leaves town. “We’ll do everything we can.”

But his jaw is tight, and the silence that follows is worse than a no.

Every second stretches like a wire pulled too tight—sharp, fraying. I watch the road. I watch the trees. I don’t think I breathe.

Until up ahead, just past the curve, I see it.

The truck.

It’s off the shoulder, upright but clearly rolled, with the airbags deployed. The driver’s side window is smashed and Canyon’s crawling out.

My blood goes ice cold, because I don’t see Harlowe.

“Stop!” I shout, already yanking at the handle.

Evans slams on the brakes and I’m out before we’ve fully stopped, sprinting toward the wreck like the world is ending—because if she’s not okay, I’m not okay.

I reach the driver’s side first, passing my brother, who’s holding his side as he limps away from the wreck, and yank the door handle. Nothing. I reach through the broken window and turn off the engine with a shaking hand.

I sprint to the passenger side—same thing. Stuck. The whole cab is crumpled inward like it’s a crushed can. My breath is gone, my mind screaming as I see her—slumped in the seat, head resting against the window, completely still.

A slow, terrifying trail of red trickles down her temple, right over the pale pink scar from our rock climbing date. I remember kissing that scar, laughing about how it would be a good story to tell, just a few weeks ago in California.

I can’t breathe.

I shove at the doors again, then launch myself toward Canyon’s side. I don’t think, I just climb, pushing glass out of the way with my forearms, cutting my skin on the edges.

“Atlas!” Evans shouts. “Don’t move her—wait for EMS!”

“I’m not moving her,” I bark, breathless. “I just—I need to be with her.”

The smell of oil and airbag powder burns my nose. Canyon’s screaming at Evans from outside, but I don’t care.

All I see is her.

“Harlowe.” My voice cracks. “Harlowe, please.”

I don’t touch her, not beyond gently bracing the side of her face to keep it from slumping. I touch my forehead to hers and whisper, “I’m here. I’ve got you. Please be okay. Just—just hang on. Help is coming.”

I whisper her name over and over like it might tether her back.

And then?—

Her eyelids twitch.

She blinks up at me, confused, lips parting like she’s trying to say something.

I choke on a breath that turns into a sob.

“Oh thank God,” I whisper, swiping at my face. “Hey, hey—it’s okay. I’m here. You’re safe. Just stay with me, okay?”

She tries to move, and I shake my head, gently cupping her cheek. “Don’t. Just breathe. They’re coming. You’re gonna be okay.”

Her eyes close again, but not like before.

She’s with me.

And I can’t stop crying because I could have lost her tonight before I even got the chance to love her the way I want to.