He still hadn’t looked her in the eye.

Eye contact, my Violet. She heard Nana’s voice. Always look directly in the eyes of the person you’re talking to. It shows respect. It doesn’t matter if they’re an adult or a child.

She waited for him to look at her, recalling the facts her mother had mentioned about this man. Owns a consulting business. Never married. No kids.

After a moment of silence, Owen jerked his gaze away from her mother and met Violet’s patient stare, his eyes widening the smallest bit. Did he realize she’d caught him being rude? He shook her hand again. “I’m very sorry for your loss,” he said rapidly. “Maybe we’ll meet again.” He nodded at her and left.

A small chill vibrated through her chest as her gaze followed his dark suit as he walked across the room to her mother.

I don’t like him. Nana wouldn’t have liked him either.

He stopped beside her mother and possessively placed a hand on the back of her arm, just above her elbow. Gianna gave him a grateful smile and introduced him to the woman she’d been speaking with.

Owen immediately made eye contact with the woman.

Violet grew light-headed, as if the room had lost its oxygen, and she no longer heard the low murmurs of the mourners. She was alone. Standing in a room full of strangers and her mother’s friends, she was invisible, yet everyone’s gazes rested on her as one. She wanted to retreat behind thick doors and rip off the smile that’d frozen in place. Then she wanted to cry—and have Nana stroke her hair like she’d done when the boy she liked had asked her best friend to the holiday dance.

Her recollection vanished as the truck’s right front wheel abruptly dipped downward and Violet pitched forward, the seat belt digging into her chest. Oro’s bulk slammed into the back of Violet’s seat and he yelped.

“Fuck,” Chris muttered under his breath.

The truck stopped. Chris threw it into reverse. The truck vibrated and groaned. He twisted the steering wheel and tried again.

It didn’t budge. Oro softly whined.

Violet watched the snowflakes gently land on the windshield as Chris wrestled with the truck’s gears. A few moments later he paused.

“We can try to dig out, but I suspect it’s snowmobile time for all of us.”

Chris yanked on the ropes, confident they’d hold.

He glanced over at Gianna, who was having a quiet conversation with Violet. The teen was pale and holding her hands on her stomach. Her seat belt had wrenched her in the gut when the truck stopped. He’d felt both front wheels catch and rise within a split second of each other. Then the right front wheel had suddenly plunged down and brought the truck to a crooked halt.

The culprit was a downed tree across the road. It’d been completely hidden by the depth of the snow, but the snow on the far side of the tree hid an air pocket. His right front wheel had sunk through the false peak, bottoming out the truck and effectively trapping it. He’d need a tow truck to get it out. And probably a chain saw.

The wind blew small flakes down his neck, sneaking them past his high collar as he surveyed their backup plan. The snow had been steady, but it was the wind that was the worst. It’d grown stronger over the last hour, turning the flakes into flesh-biting ice, and the constant sway of the fir trees gave him the impression that the forest was moving. Gianna’s snowmobile tracks had already been obliterated. The road before them was a smooth white swath weaving between the tall firs. With the light snowmobile, it shouldn’t be too hard to get to the highway.

He’d tied the two plastic toboggans together. They were cheap toys he’d picked up somewhere, but one of the best purchases he’d ever made. He, Brian, and Oro had spent joy-filled hours sledding with them near the cabin. Now they would possibly save their lives. He set a duffel on each one and figured Gianna and Violet could hold them. He wasn’t going anywhere without the supplies. He packed as much of the food as possible onto the toboggans and the back of the snowmobile. With the bitter wind, it would be a freezing ride without the protection of the truck’s cab. The snowmobile’s gas tank was a quarter full. He had no idea how much the tank held, but by simply eyeing the machine he estimated it couldn’t be more than ten or twelve gallons.

What kind of gas mileage does a snowmobile get? While hauling two full sleds?

More than enough to get them to the highway. How far they’d need to go on the highway was another question. At least there should be some traffic out there.

Unless they cleaned up the accident and closed the highway until the storm passes.

It’d happened before.

He checked his cell phone. Still no service. As soon as a bar appeared on his screen, he would call Michael. His brother was the best means of getting them off the mountain. There was no way they were driving a snowmobile sixty miles into the city, and because of the storm and accident, it was possible that the forest rangers and Clackamas County Sheriff’s Office wouldn’t have the resources to give them a ride to town.

The wet sound of retching filled the quiet forest. He spun around to see Violet bent over and Gianna supporting her forehead with one hand while resting another on her back. Gianna’s brown gaze met his and she shook her head the tiniest bit. She didn’t look too concerned.

Sick? Food poisoning? Nerves? The seat belt?

Oro headed toward the women to investigate. “Oro!” Chris called the dog back, fully aware of what dogs were willing to eat. Oro spun toward him and perked his ears. “C’mere, boy.” The golden dog rocked through the deep drifts, purposefully tossing snow in the air with his nose.