Christmas Cancellation

4. KOL

Chapter four

T he windshield wipers scraped rhythmically against the glass, battling the snow that seemed to be coming down harder. It swirled beyond the low beams of the headlights like a swarm of oversized gnats. Almost two hours had gone by since we’d left the city.

I focused on the road ahead while Noelle kept me entertained. For most of the drive, we’d listened to my playlist, with her singing along, mostly off-key. I didn’t mind. It was interesting how uninhibited she was—not caring in the least what I thought. Most of the women I’d been with were too focused on appearances, trying to impress everyone around them instead of just being real. They were never able to relax and just be themselves. Noelle, though, was different. She was similar to my sisters, who would always sit in the backseat and belt out the words to whatever song came on, even if it annoyed me.

“I don’t understand how you can only listen to country music all the time,” she said as the fourth Blake Shelton song finished playing. “I mean, they’re great songs, but don’t you want more variety?”

“Variety? Country music has it all. You must not be paying attention.”

She scoffed, reaching for her phone. “Okay, my turn. We need something fresh to keep us awake with all this never-ending snow. It’s hypnotic and pulling me under. I can barely keep my eyes open.”

She synced her phone up, and a mash-up of a cheer routine and an eighties bubblegum pop song began to play. Noelle laced her fingers together and pressed her hands to her heart. “I love me some Chappell Roan,” she crooned, rocking side to side. I took note of how she belted out some line about calling her hot, not pretty. Yeah, I bet she’d get off on the right kind of praise. Next up was another song by the same girl—“Good Luck, Babe.” The contrast in our taste in music was…jarring.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” I muttered, shaking my head. “This is—hyper.”

“Hyper? This is empowerment!” she said, her eyes lighting up as she cranked up the volume. “This song is all about moving on from toxic relationships and taking back your strength. It’s a celebration of self-worth.”

I raised an eyebrow. “It sounds as though someone’s screaming into a karaoke mic after three too many tequila shots.”

Noelle gasped dramatically. “Blasphemy! You just don’t get it. It’s fun, it’s vibrant, it’s…good times.”

I let her have that one, focusing back on the road as she bobbed her head and sang along. Eventually, though, she scrolled a bit and tapped the phone to select something new. I was relieved when “The Nights” by Avicii started playing. The upbeat rhythm hit me right away, and I nodded along, appreciating the song’s reminder to live life to the fullest.

“So you’re an Avicii fan, huh?” Noelle teased.

“Yeah,” I admitted. “This one’s good. I like ‘Wake Me Up’ too.”

“Finally, some taste,” she said, grinning. But then her smile faltered. “It’s so sad though, you know? That Avicii…Tim Bergling…died by suicide. He was so young. It was such a tragedy.”

I nodded, the energy in the car shifting. “Yeah. Hell of a loss. It goes to show that you never really know what someone’s going through.”

Noelle became quiet, which I was guessing was a rare occurrence since she’d been such a chatterbox all night so far. Silence settled in, the playlist continuing, neither of us saying much. The storm had only intensified, but at least the music was keeping us distracted from how bad the roads were getting.

After a while, I glanced over and saw her resting against the window, her head tilted just enough that I could tell she’d drifted off.

Three hours had passed in a blur of music and conversation, and we were getting close to Albany. I shifted in my seat, keeping one hand firm on the wheel as the tires crunched over the snow-covered road.

“Hey, we’re almost to Albany,” I said quietly to see if she was awake, but she didn’t stir.

Until now, she’d been a whirlwind of energy—talking fast, making sarcastic remarks, and throwing around opinions like confetti. But now? Her body seemed tense. Turning to get a better look, I realized that her hands were clenched into fists, and her brow was furrowed. Her eyes moved rapidly under closed lids—she was definitely dreaming. A few minutes later, she jolted awake, eyes wide, chest heaving. She looked around, trying to mask the fact that she’d reacted to waking up as if she’d been shot.

I glanced at her. “What’s wrong, Stinkerbelle? Bad dream about missing your flight?”

She rolled her eyes, but it was half-hearted. It was clear she wasn’t really in the mood for verbal sparring. “Funny, Mr. Captain.” She repositioned herself in her seat, rubbing her temples as though she were trying to shake off more than just a nap.

I didn’t push. People tended to spill when they’re ready, and she didn’t seem ready. Still, there was something gnawing at her—that much I could tell.

Fat snowflakes and small pieces of ice hit the windshield in thick, wet splats. The Bronco vibrated as it adjusted its grip on the slick road, but it didn’t faze me. I was used to rough conditions. Hell, I’d taken this thing through rainstorms that had turned my property into a mud pit. Slipping and sliding through those trails was second nature at this point. But Noelle? She was wound tight.

I shot her a glance. “You look as if you’re about to jump out of your skin. Everything good?”

She waved a hand dismissively, faking a smile that failed to conceal her discomfort. “Oh yeah, just peachy. Love driving in snow. It’s my favorite thing ever.”

I chuckled, shaking my head. “Is that sarcasm I hear?”

“You think?” Her response was sharp.

I pressed my lips together, watching her fidget with her hands. Something was up with her. I’d seen this demeanor before in guys I used to serve with—jittery, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“You didn’t strike me as the nervous type,” I said.

She gave a half-shrug, keeping her attention on the storm outside. “I’m not. Just…snow and I have a complicated history. Snowstorms have a way of messing up things in the worst possible way.” Her words were clipped, and I sensed she didn’t want to get into it further. Fair enough. We all had our demons.

“Got it,” I said, adjusting my position in the seat to ease the tension in my back. I made sure to keep my body relaxed, to show her that the storm outside didn’t worry me in the slightest. Noelle was on edge for reasons she clearly didn’t want to talk about. I hoped my composure would help her settle down.

“I can handle this,” I said, glancing at her again. “Trust me—dodging enemy fire teaches you how to stay calm in situations similar to this.”

“I haven’t said a word about your driving, have I?” she asked defensively.

Now that I thought about it, she hadn’t at any point seemed worried about my ability to drive in the snow. No, her issue was with the snowstorm itself. Whatever had happened to her, it ran deep.

“No, no, you haven’t. But after listening to your diatribe at the gate, I figured you were thinking it.”

She chewed on a nail, continuing to stare out her window. Tension rolled off her in waves. Normally, in this type of situation, I would stay quiet the entire drive—just do what needed to be done and move on. But most people didn’t intrigue me in the same way she did. On the outside, she was a perfectly polished, overly confident city girl. But after spending some time with her, I could tell there was a lot more to her. There was a roughness there, similar to the blunt-talking, assertive women I’d known in the Army, the kind who had to deal with cocky men all day.

“You’re not a fan of winter, huh?” I asked, trying to keep the conversation casual. My eyes flicked toward her.

She hesitated, tapping her fingers lightly against her leg. “Not really my favorite,” she muttered. “I’m more of a summer girl. Give me beaches and margaritas any day.”

I grunted, amused. “You and every girl I know.”

She snorted, though she lacked her usual gusto.

The road stretched ahead of us. It was dark now, and the snow was falling even thicker. Noelle rubbed her temples again, this time with a little more force.

I didn’t say anything for a while, just kept driving, watching the snow and trying to gauge how much worse it might get.

As we passed the exit for the Albany Airport, I couldn’t resist teasing her a little.

“Well, Stinkerbelle, if your flight hadn’t been canceled, you’d be in Saratoga by now, sipping hot cocoa or whatever you city girls do to unwind. But, then again, you wouldn’t have had the pleasure of getting to know me for the last…what, almost four hours?”

Her scoff was immediate, and her lips curved up slightly in amusement. “Oh yeah, because driving through a snowstorm in the dark is totally worth getting to know you.”

“Hey, I’m great company. Don’t act like you’re not impressed.”

She shot me a sidelong glance and then relaxed her shoulders and sighed, dialing down her hoity-toity attitude a notch. “Okay, fine. But seriously, I am grateful. If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t have had a chance getting to the attorney’s office on time. I would have lost whatever my aunt left me in her will. ”

I shrugged, keeping one hand steady on the wheel and dropping the other to my leg. “Glad I could help, even if it means battling through a snowstorm. We’re making decent time, considering the bad conditions. Normally it takes around three hours to get to Albany, and it’s taken us not quite four. We should be in Saratoga in another hour and a half if we keep up this pace.”

“Let’s hope it doesn’t take any longer than that,” Noelle said, then picked up her phone and tried calling the attorney again. Like before, there was no answer.

The tires easily cut through the slush, but more and more slick spots formed as we continued north up I-87. Noelle hadn’t stopped biting her nails since she’d woken up, and I figured it was time to get her mind off the storm outside. The last thing we needed was for her to have some sort of panic attack.

“So, what do you do for a living, Stinkerbelle?” I asked, keeping my eyes on the road, figuring that work talk was safe territory.

She huffed, crossing her arms as though she were getting ready for a fight. “Oh, I guess you didn’t hear that part of my conversation with my friend at the gate. I used to be a marketing account manager at the renowned Martindale Agency in Atlanta. You’ve probably never heard of it.”

Bitterness had crept into her tone. Shit, I’d picked a bad question but now had no other choice than to plow forward. “Used to? What happened? Couldn’t handle the corporate ladder?” I joked, turning and giving her the best fake smile I could muster.

Her head whipped toward me, and based on the scowl on her face, she hadn’t appreciated my attempt at humor.

“Relax, it was a simple question. We’ve already established I fly planes. I’m only trying to get to know you a little. ”

She fidgeted in her seat again, clearly not thrilled to be talking about this. “Okay, so it’s a big marketing firm. I do campaigns for major brands—think national commercials, global outreach, the works. Or at least I used to. I quit.”

“Quit?” I tilted my head slightly, intrigued. “A job of that caliber doesn’t seem to be something you simply walk away from.”

She let out an indignant laugh. “Oh, trust me. You would have, too, if you were me.”

I waited as she fidgeted with the edges of her sleeves. After a few moments had passed and she was still silent, I nudged her gently. “What happened?”

“Blake Mercer is what happened—more like Blake Merciless . Let’s just say my charming ex-boyfriend decided to stab me in the back, steal my work, and take the promotion I’d been working my ass off for. Then, for good measure, he dumped me as if I was some intern who brought him the wrong coffee.”

I let out a low whistle. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

She folded her arms, shaking her head. “Oh no, not kidding. The firm had everyone who was interested in the promotion prepare a pitch for this huge project, and of course, my aunt died right in the middle of it all. So while I was rushing to her funeral, he, unbeknownst to me, dug through my files, going through everything—my pitch, creative briefs, storyboards, the whole damn project.” The volume of her voice was steadily rising. “Then, when I got back, he was all smiles, telling me how it’d be best if we didn’t see each other the week before the presentation so we could stay focused . Meanwhile, I was working myself to death on that campaign—pulling all-nighters, skipping meals—just to make sure everything was perfect.”

She paused, her lips tightening as she glanced over at me. “I knew it would be tough with us both competing for the same promotion. We’re both super competitive, so that wasn’t a surprise. But after dating for two years, I thought I meant something to him. Turns out, I was just convenient until I wasn’t.”

“That’s some serious bullshit. What kind of scumbag does that?” I said, gripping the wheel a little tighter as I imagined giving this Blake guy a lesson in humility.

“Yeah, and get this—after I nailed my pitch, the clients were ready to sign on. They were thrilled until Blake swooped in with some brilliant new ideas. He undermined parts of my pitch, took credit for the ones the clients liked, and offered a couple of ideas that were unrealistic pipe dreams due to cost but that he knew they’d eat up. During his presentation, he mentioned a few things that I’d researched but hadn’t had time to share during the meeting. That’s when I realized he’d been through all my stuff. Suddenly, he was the genius, and I was just there for backup.”

She took a deep breath and groaned. “To top it off, he convinced the higher-ups that I’d make a good assistant under his supervision. The partners agreed, gave him the promotion, and made him my boss.”

The truck slid slightly on the snow, but I barely noticed as I watched her fume. “I take it you didn’t just sit there and let him get away with that?”

She snorted. “What was I supposed to do? Call him out in front of the clients? The agency partners were already falling over themselves to praise his presentation. Right after the meeting, while I was still dumbfounded by what had just happened, he walked me to my office. He was smug as hell when he dropped the next bomb. He said he’d always known I wasn’t on his professional level and that he needed a woman who could help him run his own agency one day. Then he casually added that now that he was my boss, we’d only have a working relationship. ‘ No hard feelings, right? ’” She shook her head, squinching up her face in a snarl. “I didn’t even have the words to respond. He just left me standing there, as if I was nothing.”

My hands itched to punch something. “So, he screws you over at work and then dumps you in the same breath. Class act.”

“Yeah, real winner,” she muttered, turning to stare out the window. “Yep. And after all that, I had no choice but to quit.”

We were both quiet as what she said sank in. This guy hadn’t just sabotaged her career—he hadn’t even had the decency to end things with respect. After two years, she deserved more than a casual brush-off. If you were going to walk away from a woman, you needed to do it with honesty and care, not in a way that suggested she was some inconvenience.

A surge of protectiveness rose up in me. “You did the right thing, leaving. No one needs to put up with that kind of crap. If I ever cross paths with that guy, he’s going to need a new set of teeth.”

Noelle sucked in a breath, probably startled by my promise of retribution. “You’d actually punch him, wouldn’t you?”

“I’ve taken on worse than some corporate douchebag. Trust me, he wouldn’t be a problem.” I shot her a sideways glance. “I’d love to see him get what he deserves.”

She fell silent for a minute, then asked, “You don’t think I’m just some whiny girl complaining about a nasty breakup?”

“Not even close.” I shook my head. “What he did was beyond low. And your former bosses are idiots if they couldn’t see through that. That kind of company? That kind of guy? They don’t deserve someone like you.”

She let out a quiet, surprised laugh. “Someone like me, huh?”

I shrugged. “You strike me as the kind of person who doesn’t back down from a fight. You got screwed over, but it doesn’t mean you’re down for the count. People like you get back up. ”

She opened her mouth to say something but then shut it, chewing on the words for a second. After a couple of minutes, she twisted in her seat to face me, dropping her elbow onto the center console and resting her chin on her fist, studying me. “Thanks,” she finally said, her tone a little softer. “I don’t know what I’m gonna do now.”

I nodded. “You’ll figure it out. Sounds as though you’ve gotten some good experience. You’re tougher than you give yourself credit for.”

She raised an eyebrow, a hint of sass creeping back into her expression. “Tough? You think a girl like me is tough?”

Unable to resist, I turned a little and reached over to cup her cheek in my hand, brushing my thumb along it gently. She leaned into my touch. “You walked away from a job you busted your ass for because some jerk tried to ruin you. Yeah, that takes guts.”

She blinked, seemingly caught off guard by the compliment. “Well, Mr. Captain, I didn’t expect you to be so supportive.”

I smirked. “What can I say? I’ve got layers.”

She was about to respond when something caught the corner of my eye—red and blue lights flashing up ahead. Then a line of brake lights came into focus. My gut clenched.

“What the hell?” I muttered, dropping my hand from her face. I jerked back around and gripped the wheel with both hands, easing off the gas. But before I could fully process the situation, I realized we were coming up fast—way too fast—on a line of cars at a dead stop in the middle of the highway.

A jolt of panic shot through me.

“Shit!” My foot moved to apply light pressure to the brakes in an attempt to avoid a skid. The Bronco fought the slick snow, and the tires battled for traction. But it wasn’t enough .

Everything morphed into slow motion as I aimed for the shoulder from the left lane—anything to avoid slamming into one of the cars ahead.

“Hold on!” I shouted, adrenaline surging through me. The truck slid sideways across the road.

Noelle’s hand shot out, gripping the oh shit handle next to the door. “Oh my God!”

The truck fishtailed hard, the rear end swinging out. The snow-covered road beneath us was nothing but ice now, slick as glass. My heart pounded as the wheel jerked in my hands, the back end whipping violently from side to side. Even with four-wheel drive and the slippery mode on, we skidded off the shoulder, bouncing as tires tore over the rough, icy grass. For a split second, everything was suspended in time—the Bronco started to tip, and I thought we might go into a roll.

We were just along for the ride now, the vehicle lurching down a small embankment. The shocks groaned under the impact as we were tossed side to side. Noelle’s scream cut through the chaos. My arms strained while I fought to keep us from flipping, and my teeth clenched so hard that the pressure radiated painfully through my face.

“This can’t be happening! Oh God, I don’t want to die—not like this!” she yelled.

The Bronco hit a rough patch. The tires lost contact, and for a moment, we were airborne. We hit the ground with a sudden, violent jolt that slammed us against our seat belts. Noelle’s head hit the side window with a thud, and she gasped, eyes wide with terror.

“Not like that night! Not like four years ago!” she cried out, gripping the dash, her knuckles white. Her voice was raw, panicked, the words spilling out as though she were reliving a nightmare .

As we continued to bounce and shift back and forth, the Bronco’s undercarriage scraped against hidden rocks until finally the tires found traction on the snow-packed earth.

“Hang in there!” I shouted, yanking the wheel. The truck finally skidded to a halt, the front end dipping into a snowbank, stopping us with a jarring bump that sent us both lurching forward again. Thankfully, we hadn’t flipped over. I shifted into neutral so I could catch my breath.

Everything went dead silent. We sat there for some time, our breathing heavy and uneven, the snow swirling around us like we were in the middle of a snow globe that the evil Snow Miser had just shaken.

I flexed my hands on the wheel, my heart pounding in my chest, but I kept my voice steady as I asked, “Are you okay?”

She nodded, but her face had gone pale. Her eyes were wide and filled with something more than fear from what had just happened. There was clearly so much more to her story.

“I’m fine,” she muttered, but it didn’t sound convincing. Her hands were shaking, and from the way her body shuddered, it was obvious she was anything but fine.

I reached over, wrapping my hand around one of hers and giving it a squeeze. “We’re okay. The Bronco’s built for this. We’re not stuck, and we’re not going to die in this ditch. Trust me.”

She let out a shaky breath. “I hate this,” she whispered, more to herself than to me. “I hate everything about this.”

I rubbed my thumb along the back of her hand, catching the slight tremble there. “Life has a way of blindsiding you,” I said softly, trying to calm her down. I wasn’t talking out of my ass—I’d been there, taken by surprise in ways that had shattered everything I thought I understood about the world. “It knocks you down when you least expect it, hits you right where you’re most vulnerable. But that’s when you find out what you’re really made of. You have to keep pushing forward, even when it feels as if everything’s been taken from you. You don’t stop. You keep going, even when the pieces of your life don’t fit the way they used to.”

She stared at me, her eyes still wide, but now there was something else behind the fear—a hint of recognition. She understood I was talking about more than us nearly crashing.

“And when it feels as though you’re out of options,” I said, my hand tightening around hers just a little, “you dig deeper. Maybe it’s for yourself, or maybe it’s for someone you care about, but you keep pushing forward. Life’s gonna test you, see how much fight you’ve got in you.”

Her gaze shifted to our hands, and she curled her fingers around mine—not speaking.

Shit, why was I sharing all this? Why was I rambling? The words had come tumbling out as though a secret part of me had been unlocked. Why did this girl’s feelings matter to me? I’d only just met her.

When she finally spoke, her voice was barely above a whisper. “I don’t know if I’ve got anything left.”

That hit me hard. I had a feeling she wasn’t just talking about us nearly flipping over. There was something deeper, a wound she hadn’t let heal. But pushing her to talk wasn’t what she needed me to do. No, right now, she needed someone to help her see that life was worth living. And I wanted to be that person for her, even if I didn’t exactly know how, even though my own heart was in a sorry state.

“You don’t have to have all the answers right now,” I said, giving her hand another squeeze. “You don’t have to be strong every minute. Just take it one step at a time. One breath, one fight, whatever it takes. And you get back up, because lying down and giving up?” I shook my head. “That’s not an option. Not for someone like you.”

Her lips trembled for a second before she pressed them together. “Someone like me?”

“Yeah,” I said with confidence. “Someone who’s tough, intelligent, and beautiful inside and out. Who’s been dealt a terrible hand but, deep down, knows giving up isn’t an option. You’re someone who’s strong enough to fight back against whatever it is from your past that’s making you think…you should have never been born.”

She froze.

Releasing her hand, I took her chin between my fingers, forcing her to look at me. “You’re a fighter, or else you wouldn’t be driving through a snowstorm to take care of your family business. You’d still be on the phone whining to your friend,” I said with a half smirk.

She blinked, as though she’d not expected me to speak such brutal truth to her.

The storm outside raged on, but inside the truck, it was quiet—just Noelle and me and the raw honesty hanging between us.

Her eyes narrowed. “That’s pretty deep for a guy who just swerved us off the highway.”

I chuckled. “I’ve seen a lot worse than this. You learn to roll with the punches. Life knocks you down; you get back up and ask for more.”

For a moment, she didn’t say anything. She just stared out at the falling snow like she was trying to make sense of what I’d said. There was a long pause before she nodded—slowly at first, then a little more firmly. “Okay. I get your point…I think.”

“All right, Stinkerbelle. Let’s get this thing back on the road,” I said, using the nickname I knew she hated but refused to acknowledge.

She grunted, and that was enough to tell me she was regaining her footing again.

“Be happy we didn’t hit any of those stopped cars and only took a little detour—a ride on the wild side,” I said, grinning. “This thing’s tough.”

“Glad one of us is,” she muttered, rubbing the side of her head. A small smile tugged at her lips. “And good thing I have a hard head.”