Page 25 of Rear View

Ryah

I stared down at my laptop, trying to ignore the way the campus library grew emptier and emptier by the second. Students and faculty threw on their coats and stuffed their bags, making a break for it before the storm really hit.

Leg bouncing, I checked my watch. Two hours until my meeting with Barlowe. I clicked through my notes, making sure I’d addressed his previous concerns. And like the thirty times I’d looked before, I had.

My phone buzzed and some of the pressure in my chest eased when Xavier’s name lit the screen.

Our date had been…amazing. Better than amazing.

When he’d dropped me off, he walked me to my door, no expectations.

Just making sure I got in safe, and God, if it hadn’t made me want him more.

I’d itched to be brave enough to lean in, to kiss him, but my cowardly little feet had stayed rooted where they were.

My sigh was wistful as my gaze flicked to his message.

Xavier: How’s it goin, darlin?

I bit my lip to contain my smile, because that rally driver did things to me.

Me: It’s been a day. I tried getting Barlowe to cancel, but no such luck.

Xavier: Dick move of him.

That smile broke free.

Me: Total dick move.

Xavier: His office is in the psych building?

Was he checking a campus map? I cocked my head, because I could think of only one reason he’d want to know that.

Me: It is, but don’t worry about me. I’ll just catch the bus.

My throat tightened. Catch it in the dark. Alone.

Xavier: You ain’t catching no bus. I’ll be there when you’re done.

Me: I’m serious, Xavier. I’ll be fine.

His next message appeared, and my body warmed, heart fluttering wildly.

Xavier: I’ll be there.

Sure, it would be a pain to trudge through the snow, and the bus would definitely take longer, and it would be well past dark by the time I collapsed through my front door, but I’d meant what I’d said.

He didn’t need to risk the weather or himself , for me.

Aside from my usual, ever-present issues, I could manage.

* * *

I unequivocally did not manage.

The power in Professor Barlowe’s office flickered and my gaze darted to the storm raging outside his window. Worse than just hours before. So, so much worse.

The wind whipped wildly, bowing the trees and blasting snow against the glass.

The room was stagnant and cold while Barlowe scribbled on some papers from behind his desk, and I tucked my new notes for his suggested revisions into my bag.

We were done, but half the cars in the student lot were buried or abandoned and a news alert said a six-car pile-up had happened right off College Street, so how I’d leave, I had no clue.

My chest was tight as I pulled out my phone and checked the city bus schedule. Canceled. Canceled. Accident. Canceled. Nothing was moving, which meant neither was anyone. And neither was I.

Why had Barlowe needed the stupid meeting? My last lecture had been canceled. I could’ve been home already, but he’d insisted all so he could address some stupid citing errors, the very definition of “this could’ve been an email!”

“How have things been?” Barlowe asked.

I flicked my finger over the hem of my shirtsleeve. “Fine.”

“Are you sure?”

I peered his way.

He arched a disbelieving brow. “Things between you and Christian seem to be a bit strained.”

I inclined my head slowly while I considered what to say. Yes, he’d watched the weirdness between Christian and me, but we were his TAs. I didn’t want to cause any issues on that front. Still, I wasn’t good enough to lie. “We’re just sorting some stuff. It’ll be fine.”

He eyed me for several seconds before he slowly bent and clicked a series of buttons on his high-tech computer. “I’ve just sent the time for our meeting Friday evening.”

Friday evening? Why had I ever chosen him as my adviser? Why?

My gaze roved to the window again. How was the weather getting worse?

I worried my cheek between my teeth and rubbed my scar.

Campus was dark, lecture halls and labs, empty.

The snow was so deep, only the car roofs were visible.

A handful of people trudged down the sidewalk, hip high in it and struggling.

The walls I’d spent years inside suddenly felt like they’d closed in on me.

Professor Barlowe followed my line of sight and crossed his arms over his chest, his attention narrowing on the parking lot as if it had disappointed him. “Looks like we might be stuck.”

No. No. No! My heart stuttered. I couldn’t be stuck. I had to get home where it was familiar. Safe.

My phone pinged and I glanced down, my heart stopping when an unknown name crossed the screen.

Unknown: Where are you, Ryah Jane?

Barlowe’s stare slid to the mantel clock on his bookshelf. “I apologize for this, Miss Nolan. I miscalculated. I thought we’d have more time. These forecasts are hardly ever right.”

Oh, God. My lungs seized, my ribs constricting around me as my hands shook wildly. “I need to leave.”

He canted his head. “The city’s shut down, Ryah. Only essential vehicles are out.” He turned my way. “I’m afraid we’re not going anywhere tonight.”

I raked my hands up and down the backs of my arms as the ringing in my ears started. My gaze darted around. There had to be another way out. Please , let there be a way out.

“I think we should just settle in.” He pointed to the old plaid couch to his right. “You’re welcome to sleep there, if you like.”

My vision narrowed, darkening around the periphery. I couldn’t breathe. I can’t breathe! “I can’t—I can’t stay, Professor.”

“In good conscience, I must warn you against leaving in this weather. It’s too dangerous.”

My pulse thrashed in my ears while the panic moved in.

Another buzz of my phone filled the otherwise awkward silence. I didn’t want to look, but if it was him , I needed to know. Was he watching? Was he out there? Was he—

Xavier’s name filled the screen, along with a text.

Xavier: What would you say if I told you I’m here?

Breath exploding from my lungs, my brows dropped so low, it was a wonder I could see.

Me: What?

Please be real. Please!

Xavier: Out front when you’re ready.

My head snapped up. Out front? There was no way he’d made it. The roads weren’t even plowed. Impassable. But this was Xavier. If anyone could—or would —it was him.

Hands shaking, I grabbed my coat and bag from the back of my chair and threw them on.

Barlowe frowned. “What are you doing?”

“Leaving.”

He rose. “It’s not safe out there, Ryah,” he said, his tone stern.

I fumbled as I slid on my hat and secured my gloves. Xavier was there. As soon as I saw him, I’d be safe. He was there. “I’ll be alright.”

Bolting for the door, I burst into the hall. Barlowe’s voice carried after me, but I didn’t stop. Couldn’t. I needed air. I needed Xavier.

Darting around the corner, I almost crashed headlong into the security guard, Stan. I jolted, my boots screeching across the floor. What the hell?

His head drew back, his stare narrowing to a point. “Miss Nolan, where are you—”

My body was rigid, I darted around him and made for the main exit, careening outside. A snowmobile waited, engine running, twenty steps away.

Snow lashed across the path, clawing at my exposed skin as Xavier rose from the machine’s seat and faced me. He wore a head-to-toe black snowsuit with his dark helmet and stood backlit by the nearby lamppost. I’d never seen a more perfect sight.

He flicked that tinted visor up and winked.

My mouth parted and a sob broke from my chest. Tears of unadulterated relief seared the backs of my eyes as I made my way to him, sinking deep to my knees with every panicked step.

He closed the gap between us, his long legs moving through the snow like it wasn’t an obstacle. It crunched loudly under his boots.

I threw myself at him, looping my arms around his neck as I squeezed hard, voice quavering when I said, “You’re here.”

His grip locked around me. “Told you I’d come.”

Another sob tore free, and those tears fell.

“Hey.” He cinched his hold tighter, and he lifted, hooking my legs around him as his hand tracked over my back and he effortlessly carried me toward his machine. “What’s wrong, darlin’?”

I shook as I clung to him, breathing in his leather-and-gas-engine scent. He was there. The anxiety that had crashed my shore receded. “Nothing.” I sniffled and shook my head, pressing it to his chest. “I just want to go home.”

When he reached the snowmobile, he set me down and crouched before me, those arctic eyes shifting between my own. Tracking his gloved thumb over my cheek, he stole my tears. “You sure you’re good?”

I am now. My breath hitched. Lord only knew what he saw, how ridiculous I looked, crying over nothing. I needed to explain, offer some truth to save what little face I had. “I was just scared.” I sniffed again. “But you’re here.”

He held my gaze for several heart-stopping seconds more. “I’m here.”

“Hey!” Stan said, approaching from the side of the psych building, his words barely audible over the howling winds. “You can’t be here!”

Xavier gave him a stiff wave before, like the first time, he pulled off my hat and stuffed it into his pocket.

Taking the second helmet, he dropped it over my head and tugged my coat’s collar all the way up.

Lifting my bag from around me, he strapped it across his chest, then climbed on in front of me.

Warmth spread through my limbs. No one had done anything like that for me before. Ever. Scooching closer, I set my helmet against the wall of his broad back before I slid my arms around him.

Safe. I was safe. With him.

His hand landed over mine and offered a squeeze before he gripped the handles. “Hold on, darlin’,” he said, the words muffled through the helmet. “Gonna be a rougher ride this time.”

He hit the throttle, and I glanced back. Stan stood, his face in shadow as he creepily watched us go.