seven
Astrid
Islamonthe brakes and clutch the wheel in a death grip. The anti-lock brake system engages with a rasping groan.
The truck shudders and skids. I brace for impact as I lose sight of the bear below the hood.
We lurch forward, then stop.
“Astrid,” Finn says. I can barely hear his voice over the pounding of my heart. I realize he’s touching me, that he’s been touching me since I hit the brakes.
“You okay?” he asks. “Say something.”
I look down at his fingers splayed over my abdomen. It takes me a few seconds to recall how to speak.
“We’re okay,” I say, panting. “Did I hit it?”
“I don’t think so. I think you stopped just in time. Look.” He points to the driver’s side window. I glance over in time to see a dark mass of fur disappear into the copse of evergreens. No red staining the snow.
Finn shifts the truck into park and turns on the hazard lights. “Take a deep breath, baby. It’s over now.”
I inhale as deeply as my lungs will allow. My body feels stiff, as if my limbs were made of wood. He massages the back of my neck as I rest my forehead on the steering wheel.
“That was good, Astrid,” he says softly. “You did so good.”
It takes a few minutes, but slowly, my muscles begin to slacken, then twitch, then relax.
“You want me to drive the rest of the way back?” he asks.
Part of me wants to say yes, and hand off the task to Finn, let him take care of it. But part of me knows that if I let him take the wheel now, I might never take it back. You can’t predict what’s going to happen on the road; you can only prepare for it, and I did everything I was supposed to. I stopped in time. Nobody got hurt, not even the bear.
I shake my head.
“No, I’m good,” I say, because I am. I’ve got this.
We make it back in one piece and without further incident. The empty driveway means the rest of our family isn’t back yet, not that we expect them for some time.
I cut the engine. Before I can open the door, Finn grasps my hand.
“I am so fucking proud of you, Astrid,” he says. “Not just for how you handled the situation, but for what you did afterward.”
“What did I do?”
He nods toward the cabin. “You kept driving.”
Satisfaction rushes through my body like a fever. I wish I could kiss him, but the windows aren’t tinted and there’s a chance Gran is already up and about.
Before we unload the tree, I run inside to see if Gran’s still sleeping—thankfully, she is.
“Help me move the fake tree into the foyer first,” I tell Finn. Once we’ve cleared a spot in the living room, I get the stand ready and check to make sure that the lights work.
Finn takes care of bringing the real tree inside.
When all the lights are on and sparkling, I open the first box of ornaments and begin hunting for an ideal spot on the tree.
“What do you think of the name, Spencer?” I ask, hooking a red ball around a branch.
“It’s all right.” Finn hands me a green ball next. “What if it’s a girl?”