Cera could feel the crispness of her eyelashes every time she blinked to protect her vision from the dangerous winds. The thick strands of her hair had become stiff long ago, and her fingers and toes had grown numb about ten minutes before.
She continued wiggling her toes inside her sopping wet shoes, and her fingers were tucked inside her sweater’s long sleeves.
It was pretty much a Hail Mary at this point, but Cera had to do whatever she could to at least try to keep the circulation going. If she survived, it would suck to survive Randall’s psychotic wrath only to lose her hands and feet to frostbite.
Ivan would still love you if that happened. You know he would.
If her face wasn’t frozen solid, Cera would have smiled. Ivan hadn’t said the words, but she could see it in his eyes.
It was wild and crazy, but in the short time since they’d first met, they each seemed to have found what they’d been missing. Cera just prayed she’d get to at least see him one last time.
Please, God. At least let me say goodbye in person. You at least owe me that much.
Telling God He owed heranythingprobably wasn’t the smartest move while already knocking at death’s door. But Cera had a feeling if the Big Guy were walking next to her, He’d probably agree.
Ivan was right that day at the resort. She’d been dealt a shit hand, but that didn’t mean she should quit playing before all the cards had been dealt.
It was time shechosewhat kind of life she wanted. What kind she had. And what she wanted was a life with Ivan.
She wanted to laugh and love. Have more incredible sex and, eventually, make a baby or two. Cera knew Ivan was the man meant to give her all those things and more.
She just had to stay alive long enough for him to find her.
So that’s what she did. She pushed on, reminding herself of everything she’d be giving up if she died.
It worked well, at first, but after what felt like hours later—but was several minutes, in reality—Cera could tell she was starting to fade.
Her movements became more and more uncoordinated, and she started falling more than she walked. Vision blurred, and her speech began to slur. When she put all those symptoms together, Cera knew exactly what it meant.
Time’s running out.
The only saving grace was that Tim had mere minutes—maybe less—before the hypothermia he was experiencing became too far gone for the twisted bastard to fight.
Three long, hard steps later, the mentally ill psychiatrist fell face-first into the snow beside her. Feeling his fingers slip free from her arm, Cera turned her head, her gaze narrowing to try to focus on as much detail of the scene as she could.
She looked down just in time to see his body land on the downy-white ground. The gun he’d been threatening her with disappeared into the plush carpet of snow.
Her former therapist, the man she thought she’d always be able to turn to, made no move toward the deadly weapon. Though every instinct she had screamed for her to keep going—and despite everything this man had done to her—Cera couldn’t in good conscious walk away without being sure there wasn’t anything she could do to help.
But when she finally managed to roll her former therapist over onto his back, she realized his eyes were still open, and fresh, frozen blood was present in the man’s nose and the corners of his mouth.
Dr. Timothy Randall wouldn’t be reaching for the gun. He wouldn’t be forcing her to go anywhere with him. He wouldn’t doanythingever again.
Because Dr. Randall was dead.
If Cera could cry, she knew she would. Not for the man lying lifeless at her feet but for a man who, as it turns out, never really existed.
At least no one else would ever have to suffer from the same nightmare I did. At least that will help make my death mean something.
But until she took her last breath, Cera refused to quit.
She wasn’t ready to die. Not yet. Not like this. So she pushed past the numbing cold and bone-wracking trembles and continued on the same path they’d been on.
It already felt like she’d been walking forever. Surely she was getting closer to the road. She had to be, right?
Please, Ivan. I need you. I know you’re out there looking for me, but I don’t know how much longer I can last. I’m so cold, and so very, very tired.
Over the next few minutes—at least shethoughtit was that long—Cera managed to cover a little more ground. Her silent pleas to God, Ivan, and even her mom and Callie helped push her forward. Thoughts of a future with Ivan the only real motivation she had to continue fighting.