The Dead of Winter (Seasons of Jefferson: Book 2) Read online

  The Dead of Winter

  Copyright ©2015 Julie Solano and Tracy Justice (JT Authors)

  Cover design by Sarah Hansen, Okay Creations, www.okaycreations.com

  Interior design and formatting by Stacey Ryan Blake at Champagne Formats

  Web Page Designer: Vianna Bailey

  Editor: Marnia Brownell

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owners.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the authors’ imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  All songs, song-titles, and lyric excerpts quoted herein are the property of the respective copyright holders.

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it to the appropriate retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of these authors.

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  ISBN-10: 0986383627

  ISBN-13: 978-0-9863836-2-5

  Table of Contents

  TITLE PAGE

  COPYRIGHT

  OTHER BOOKS

  DEDICATION

  QUOTE

  PROLOGUE

  CHAPTER 1: POKER FACE

  CHAPTER 2: DON'T BLOW IT

  CHAPTER 3: BEAT IT

  CHAPTER 4: HEARTFELT APOLOGIES

  CHAPTER 5: GOSSIP GIRLS

  CHAPTER 6: WHAT A PILL

  CHAPTER 7: QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS

  CHAPTER 8: SAME HELL, DIFFERENT DAY

  CHAPTER 9: NO MORE CRASHES!

  CHAPTER 10: DAMAGED

  CHAPTER 11: DROWNING IN GUILT

  CHAPTER 12: IT'S NOT ROCKET SCIENCE

  CHAPTER 13: GAME ON

  CHAPTER 14: HAPPY, HAPPY, HAPPY

  CHAPTER 15: BEST LAID PLANS

  CHAPTER 16: WELCOME BACK

  CHAPTER 17: MAY THE FORCE BE WITH YOU

  CHAPTER 18: THE GIFT EXCHANGE

  CHAPTER 19: DRIVING ME CRAZY

  CHAPTER 20: TEAM TANGLES

  CHAPTER 21: WOOD IF I COULD

  CHAPTER 22: GOTCHA

  CHAPTER 23: I LIKE BIG GIFTS AND I CAN NOT LIE

  CHAPTER 24: WHAT A DOLL

  CHAPTER 25: TEXT ME, MAYBE

  CHAPTER 26: NEW "THINGS"

  CHAPTER 27: POSSIBILITIES

  CHAPTER 28: LIFTED

  CHAPTER 29: MANLY BULLETS

  CHAPTER 30: HORMONAL FIREBALLS

  CHAPTER 31: WEAPONS

  CHAPTER 32: REVELATIONS

  CHAPTER 33: WORTH FIGHTING FOR

  CHAPTER 34: WHATEVER IT TAKES

  CHAPTER 35: THE CHASE

  CHAPTER 36: UNEXPECTED ENTRIES

  A MESSAGE FROM THE AUTHORS

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  ABOUT THE AUTHORS

  OTHER BOOKS

  Seasons of Jefferson

  When Fall Breaks, Book 1

  For our husbands and four children who inspire us every day. Thank you for your unending support and understanding throughout this exciting journey. We did it again!

  ~ Like a snowflake on the wind, fate has a way of picking you up and setting you down right where you belong. Though you may not know where you’re headed, sometimes it’s best to enjoy the ride. Trusting that you are part of a larger plan. ~

  STILL ANCHORED TO THE FREEZING snow, I curl into a ball, shaking, shivering, and screaming in agony. The bitter cold bites at my fingertips, pierces through my soaking clothes, and stabs at my face, head, and ears. The pain of the frigid temperature does little to distract from the anguish that rips through my heart and soul. Trapped in an uncontrollable nightmare, I try to snap out of it, forcing myself to look up at my brother. His lifeless body lies unconscious on the ground in front of me. His face and clothes are covered in blood. A tourniquet has been tied around his arm. Did this really happen? Did my brother just topple down an embankment in his truck? Peyton … Where is she? My mind is fuzzy. I can’t think. It’s so cold … so … so cold. Warm up. Trying to trap the heat from escaping my body, I wrap my arms around myself, clutching intensely at my soaked jacket. This isn’t working.

  Hesitantly, I unfurl my shaking arms from around my waist and begin to rub my hands together. It’s too cold. Not even the friction of the rapid movement can create enough heat to bring the feeling back. Praying there is enough warm air left inside my lungs to defrost my icy fingertips, I pull my folded hands up to my mouth. I rock back and forth, huffing into them, and doing my darndest to understand the scene before me. With my vision anchored to my motionless brother, nothing breaks my fixed stare. Not even the sounds of screeching voices, intermittently streaking through my ears.

  Howling winds shroud the hillside, muffling the voices. I don’t understand them. What are they saying? Straining to focus on their shrill pitch, I track the screaming sound. The trail of desperate cries creates a path that leads just beyond my brother. My focus settles on the figure of a girl. She’s huddled on the ground near Caden. Her long, blond hair fans out over a blue and black flannel jacket. I recognize her. She’s my best friend, Jenna. Jenna’s here? That’s right. She was with us in the truck. We were following Caden and Peyton when they went over the cliff. Her head is raised in the direction of the embankment. She’s screaming for help.

  I pull my vision back to my brother’s lifeless body. Brody huddles over him, slapping the sides of his face incessantly. He’s gasping for air, panicked, “Caden, come on buddy. You can’t leave us! You can’t!” He pauses momentarily and arches into him. Turning his head, he rests his ear on Caden’s mouth. I watch his hand slide up toward his neck. Quickly, he pulls away and yells to Mason, who’s making his way toward me. “His breathing is shallow. I’m picking up a pulse, but I can’t get him to wake up!”

  Mason’s movement quickens. “Kaitlyn! Snap out of it! You have to get up! We’re going to try to get Caden up the embankment. Nobody’s going to be able to see us down here. We don’t have a choice. We have to move him. It’s going to take all of us. We have to go, now. Come on!”

  The scene before me begins to spin out of control. The wind is howling. The river is raging. There’s so much screaming. So much movement. From everywhere and everyone. Except from my brother. He’s still lifeless. Still unmoving. Panic erupts inside of me. I can’t think straight. Shaking my head, I try to clear my mind. What is he trying to get me to do? Move Caden up the ridge? We can’t move him. He was just in a horrible car accident. What if he has a spinal injury? Come on. Be smart about this. What am I going to do? My teeth audibly clap together from the intensity of the shivering. I look again toward my brother.

  “Kaitlyn. Come with me. We need you,” Mason begs, grabbing my arm. I look down at his firm grasp and see my ex-boyfriend’s rough hand curled around my wrist. Reflexively, I recoil, balling my hand into a fist.

  “That’s enough! Don’t touch me!” I scream, angry that he’s coming after me again. How could that insensitive bastard hurt me at a time like this? “Get away from me, Pistol!”

  “Kaitlyn, I’m not Pistol.
It’s me, Mason.” His voice is calm, as he releases my hand and backs away. “Your friend, Mason. I need your help. I’m not trying to hurt you. Look at me, sweetie.”

  Not Pistol? I take a second look at the horror stricken face staring back at me. It is Mason. If this is Mason, where’s Pistol? Pistol? Oh, hell … In my mind, I replay the haunting image of Caden’s truck swerving to dodge gunshots as it slides across the icy river road. Pistol’s truck went over the embankment too. He’s the one who drove his truck into my brother’s, pulling them both over the edge. Where’s Pistol? And Peyton … Where’s Peyton? Peyton … she’s in the truck … in the river … Oh my God! Peyton is still in the river!

  I turn toward the raging Salmon River, and look for any visible sign of my brother’s truck. “Peyton!” I scream, pulling myself from the snowy ground. Running down the riverbank, I scan the rushing water, searching for the truck.

  “Stop, Kaitlyn! She’s gone!” Mason’s strained voice calls after me. “We need you back here! We need your help! You can’t do anything for her. It’s been too long. At least your brother still has a chance!”

  I can’t give up. I have to get to Peyton. Without looking back, I continue to run, stumbling over the icy rocks. Protruding brush and branches lash my frozen skin as I quickly wriggle my way through the thicket near the river. Discovering a possible opening, my desperate hands tear through the thick brush, pausing momentarily, when a small movement catches my eye. After moments of intense focus, I realize it’s just the water rolling over a small rapid in the middle of the river. If Peyton is out there, time is working against us. The voices in my head are telling me to move quickly. Keep going, Kait. You can do it. You're a lifeguard, a swimmer. If anyone can do this, it’s you. You have to find her.

  My face burns and my skin stings. It feels like I’ve just run through a maze of blackberry bushes. Tears roll down my cheeks as I continue to run down the riverbank. When there’s no shoreline left and a formation of boulders blocks my way to the rest of the river, I begin to climb. There’s no way in hell that I’m going to stop searching for that truck. Clambering up the steep surface, my foot slides over the slick, icy face of the rock. My knee crashes down with a shattering thud. Shrieking in agony, my body momentarily freezes as I slide down the slippery surface, and land back on the ground. I’m stunned by the harsh impact on my icy, cold bones.

  Mind over matter. Move it! Convincing myself to push through the pain, I begin to search for another way up. Hobbling to the backside of the formation, I find a new foothold in a crevice where I begin to climb once again. When I finally reach the top of the towering rock, I carefully pull myself up and find my balance. Beneath me, the river rages, spitting white foam up the sides of my icy perch. The truck is nowhere in sight. I decide to scan upstream, where my view had previously been blocked by the thick brush. The wild water gushes downstream, rushing below the boulder. One slip and I’m as good as gone. Tracing the path of the water as it pushes away from the base of the formation, I watch as it flows toward the bend.

  Just yards downstream, something peculiar catches my eye. An oddly shaped rock rests partially submerged in the rushing water. There’s something different about this rock. It’s a dark shade of brown and navy blue. Yellow moss flows from the top. I pause, fixing my sight on the interesting hue. Where have I seen that flowing shade of color before? Wait a second. Yellow moss? Climbing back toward the river, I work to get a closer look. My God, it’s moving! When I lie down on my belly to zero in on the object, the moving figure before me becomes quite clear. That’s when I realize, it’s not moss at all. It’s Peyton’s hair!

  I roll over onto my bottom and begin descending rapidly toward the river. Thankfully, the smooth face of the boulder works as a much needed slide. Rolling over onto my belly, I release my hold, and slip down on my stomach until my feet find a flat protrusion. Closer to the water now, only a couple yards separate me from the icy water. Glaring over my shoulder into the rushing current, I pause momentarily, planning my strategy. I’ve got one shot at this. I need to get to her fast, and I need to hit that water at the right angle.

  For a brief moment, I study the direction of the current before deciding to take the plunge. “I’m coming, Peyton!” My voice is barely audible, small, and winded from exhaustion. Launching myself off the rock, I leap toward my target. Within seconds the freezing, cold water wraps itself around me, punching me in the stomach and seizing my entire body. When I break the surface, my frozen lungs gasp for air. It’s nearly impossible to fight the painful urge to curl up in a ball. But I’ve made the choice to fight for her, and with everything in me, I kick and claw toward my friend. She seems so far away. Too far. In my moment of panic, it becomes clear that if I can’t pull myself toward the middle of the river, I’m going to miss her altogether. Strengthening my kick, I reach toward the brown jacket that has just come into view.

  Just about a yard away, my feet give one good dolphin kick, propelling me beneath the surface. As I thrust forward, my entire focus is on the oversized, thermal jacket. A sense of hope washes over me when my hand wraps itself around the thick, drenched fabric. Peyton clings to the rock as I desperately grasp onto her anchored body. The water has chosen to put up a fierce battle. Another wave crashes down on top of my head, trying to sweep me away from Peyton. My legs pull away from my body, trying to escape downstream. The force is strong, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to give up without a fight.

  Desperately, I continue to cling to my stationary friend, alternating hands each time my grip fails me. My hands are so cold now, that it’s only a matter of seconds before they lose their hold completely. “Peyton, I need you to let go. We have to get to the shore.” Her head bobbles slightly back and forth as she continues to cling to the rock. With panic setting in, the desperation in my voice increases, “Peyton, we’ll die in this water! It’s too cold! You’ve got to let go! Now!” There’s a sudden shift beneath me. Unexpectedly, I find myself submerged, carrying the weight of the two of us down river. Holding her head above water, I kick wildly, until my face breaks the surface.

  Finally able to take in a much needed breath, I’m able to speak again. “We’re going to let the wwwater take us. Just head toward the shore. Can you pppull your arms for me?” I feel the slight shake of her head as Peyton’s arms begin to move. “Cccup your hands, okay?” She shakes her head no and slightly raises her left hand out of the water. Peeking over her shoulder, I spot an open pocket knife. She’s gripping it tightly and won’t let it go. “Drop it! We need both of your hands!” She shakes her head no again.

  “Ssssaved mmmy llllife.” I can barely understand Peyton’s faint voice. “It’s Cccaden’s. Cccut the bbbelt.”

  Realization hits me. Holy Crap. She cut herself out of the truck with Caden’s knife? This is no time for sentiment, but I’ve got to get her to work with me and there’s no way she’s letting go of that knife. “Okay, give it to me. I’ll hold it. We’ve got to stay up, and to do that, I need you to use your hands.” Slowly Peyton releases the knife into my hand and she begins to pull water. “Tttoward the bank, Pppey. That’s right. Don’t fffight the current. Let it work for us.”

  This part of the river is narrow. “We’re not far now.” I continue talking her through the motions, not knowing if I’m trying to convince her or myself that we’re going to make it. Peyton gives a couple more good pulls before her arms come to a rest. She calms as we begin to move closer to the bank. She’s not fighting me at all, and it doesn’t take long before I feel the rocky bottom beneath my feet.

  “Okkkay, Pppeyton, you can ssstep dddown nnnow.” I stutter in her ear. There’s no response. “Hhhelp me out, gggirl. Ssstep dddown,” I shiver. There is still no movement. She’s heavy. So heavy it feels as though I’m pulling dead weight. Trying not to cut her with the knife, I pull and tug. The task grows more difficult as we near the shore. Not strong enough to pull her all the way out, I collapse in the shallow water, holding Peyton’s head above the surfa
ce. She’s not helping and my strength is all but gone. Cradling her helplessly, I begin to shake and cry. “Pppeyton, ppplease, wwwake up. I cccan’t do this alllone. I’m not ssstrong enough.”

  Despite my loud, gasping breaths and the strong clapping of my clattering teeth, I hear water begin to splash wildly around me. Suddenly, Peyton’s weight becomes lighter. Tipping my head back, I see Mason behind me. I watch as he lifts Peyton from my arms and drags her to the bank. He’s leaning over her, with his ear to her mouth. “Kaitlyn, get over here. Was she breathing when you found her?”

  “Ssshe just hhhelped me get her to the ssside,” I cry.

  Mason moves his hand from her wrist to her neck, shaking his head, “I’m not finding her pulse.”

  Panic overwhelms me. Closing the knife and stuffing it in my pocket, I stumble to Peyton. Mason moves to the side allowing me to check for breathing. It’s hard to hear through my wheezing. I try to hold my breath long enough to listen for hers. There’s nothing there. I don’t hear it, and I don’t feel it. I tilt her head back, and check her airway. It seems to be clear. Gasping for air, I begin CPR. “One, two, three, four, five …” I whisper each compression, hoping to save enough oxygen to give her when the time comes. Shaking and shivering wildly, I desperately continue to perform the lifesaving operation. The cycle repeats until I can barely move. I have nothing left. I’m frozen. Depleted. Hypothermic.

  Watching my struggle, Mason steps in. “I’ll do the breathing, Kait. I’ve never done this before, but I’ll try.”

  I nod in relief and slide down to her chest, giving Mason room to take over the breathing. We continue to work, hoping against hope that we can re-start Peyton’s heart. When doubt begins to invade my mind, the tears come faster. This isn’t working. With every compression, I send up a prayer, begging for help. My arms have turned to noodles, and I struggle to deliver solid compressions. We’ve been going at it for an impossible amount of time. Even if we can get her back, I know in my heart, it’s been too long.