He stared at me in disbelief but scooted to the passenger side, which wasn’t hard, since the truck was listing that way. At least the trees had managed to close the door.

“Hit it on the driver’s side,” he said.

I nodded as he pulled his jacket over his head, and then I swung hard. The impact reverberated up my arm into my shoulder, but I’d only cracked the glass, so I swung again, shattering it this time. The pieces on the driver’s side exploded into the cab, but half the window remained in place, a spiderweb of cracks spread throughout.

Wyatt sat up and lowered his jacket.

“Back up,” he said, scooting to the middle of the seat.

I did as he said, giving him about three feet. He lifted his elbow and smashed out the rest of the window, then slipped off his coat and laid it over the bottom edge. Diving headfirst out of the window, he landed in a heap in front of me.

One of the trees began to crack. The truck pitched a few feet to the passenger side.

I started to fall over toward the trees, but Wyatt grabbed my arm as he got to his feet, pulling me to the other side, the one closer to the road above us. He pushed me up and onto the edge. “Jump!”

I looked down at the ground, which was about six feet below the nearly sideways truck.

The tree cracked again, and the truck jerked, tilting to the side even more. We didn’t have long.

Terrified out of my mind, I let him launch us off the truck toward the ground.

The tree trunk made a loud snapping sound.

Wyatt rolled me over midair so that his back hit the ground with a hard thud and I landed on top of him.

The truck let out a loud, yawing groan, then fell tail-bed-first, rolling end over end several times until it landed on its now smashed-in roof on top of the rock bed.

I stared down at it in shock. “You could have been in there,” I gasped.

He lifted his head to stare down at the crash. “And you could have been trapped underneath,” he said, his voice tight. “What were you thinkin’?”

“I was thinking that you could be in that truck right now,” I answered, my temper rising.

Wyatt rested his head back on the ground and stared up at the sky.

We’d almost died.

Lightheaded, I laid my cheek on his chest, waiting for the dizziness to pass as I listened to his wildly beating heart. At least he was shaken up too.

After a few seconds, he shifted slightly, and I realized I was lying on top of Wyatt Drummond, his arm draped across my back. I found far too much comfort in his embrace, yet I couldn’t seem to find the gumption to move out of it.

“Are you okay?” he asked softly.

“You’re the one who wrecked his truck.”

“I didn’t wreck it,” he grunted. “I was run off the road.”

“By the black truck?”

“Yep.”

“Do you know who was in it?”

“No.”

“Did you get a license plate number?”

“Nope.”

I wasn’t sure I believed him, but I could tell from the way he was holding me that most of his suspicions had withered away. Which meant he was likely trying to protect me. I lifted up to look him in the eyes. “Are you hurt?”

He made a face. “Mostly my pride.”

The cut on his forehead suggested otherwise.

I knew I should move off him, but my arms and legs started shaking and there was no way I’d make it up that hill.

He sat up and shifted me so that I was sitting on his lap, my legs draped to one side. His arm tightened around me, pulling me to his chest. “Your adrenaline is crashing. Give it a minute and it’ll pass.”

I rested my head on his shoulder, trying to pull myself together, but I had a perfect view of the truck crashed at the bottom of the ravine.

“They tried to kill you,” I said. “Why?”

“They didn’t want me to know who they are?” he said. “They’re worried I know something and tried to permanently shut me up? They don’t like Drummonds? Or maybe they were just good ol’ boys who were pissed I was riding their ass. The possibilities are endless.”

He had a point, but the fact that they had been following me since Greeneville ruled out his last suggestion. Had they been following Hank because they thought he knew where the stash was hidden? Or maybe they’d suspected I knew more than I was letting on? But I couldn’t ignore that we’d been in Wyatt’s truck. What if they’d thought they were following him?

“Why’d you do it?” he asked quietly.

“Do what?” I asked defensively. What was he accusing me of now?

“Risk your life to help me.”

How could he ask me that? But at least this question had an easy answer—one I could give him without any lies or equivocation. The muscles in my back relaxed. “Because it was the right thing to do.”

“You could have been killed, Carly,” he said emphatically.

“And you could have too. You were lucky you only lost your coat.”

“Don’t forget my pride,” he said in a teasing tone.

We were silent, lost in our own thoughts. I knew I needed to get off his lap, but for some reason I felt less scared down on the side of the hill with Wyatt. Which was ridiculous given we were looking down at his totaled truck. “I have to get to the Dollar General before I go to work.”

His brow shot up. “What?”

“Hank doesn’t have any food, and he said the only place to shop in Drum is the Dollar General.”

“Why are you helpin’ him?” he asked with narrowed eyes. “I know for a fact there’s no money in his house. Do you know differently?”

I groaned. “Are we back to that? Is that the rumor in town? That Hank has a buried treasure somewhere and I’m out to get it? I’ve already been accused of being after his ‘fortune’ once today. I don’t need it from you after saving your life.”

I started to get up, but he pulled me back down. “Carly. Wait.”

“What do you want to hear, Wyatt? That I’m out to rob him blind?”

“You say you’re helpin’ him because of Seth, but you have to understand that this is above and beyond what a normal person would do. The whole town’s gonna be talkin’ about it.”

“Ruth and Franklin let me stay with them. Are you worried about them too?”

“That’s different. People know Ruth and Tater can take care of themselves, but some of them are gonna think you’re out to scam Hank and that you killed Seth to make it happen.”

“And the others will think I killed Seth over drugs?” I asked with raised eyebrows. “I can’t help what people think. Plus, I won’t be here much longer. Let ’em talk. It likely means more customers for Max.”

He frowned. “But I suspect not more tips for you.”

I flashed him a smile. “I’m hopin’ to win them over with my charming personality.”

He gave me a soft smile, and I realized I didn’t want Wyatt to think I was a bad person. Maybe it was foolish of me, but I wanted him to understand my motivations.

“I’m helping Hank for the reason I told you. He can’t be alone right now, and I need a place to stay.” I turned my head to face him. “Sometimes people can just be nice for the sake of being nice.”