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my sister Reagan on the side of the road, I would want a decent guy like myself to stop and help them. There are a hell of a lot of creepers out there, and it’s just not safe. She’ll get over it, and if not . . . Oh well.
    Eyes glued to the road, I stare hard, making sure I don’t hit stray tree branches—hell, even another car, for that matter. There’s debris all over the road, so I slow down, knowing the Jacksons’ curves are just up ahead. Old Man Jackson lives right in the middle of a hellish set of curves, and I’ve seen more accidents on this stretch of road than I care to count.
    Just as I creep around the first set, I see lights. Lights that are coming from the other side of the small embankment. Fuck! That’s not a good sign. Today is just not going my way.
    I pull my truck over to the side of the road. Reaching into the glove compartment, I pull out a flashlight. I’m still wearing my poncho, not taking the time to remove it knowing Stephanie was already going to be pissed. Not knowing what I’m going to find on the other side of the embankment, I grab my phone and shove it into my pocket.
    As soon as I open the door, the wind blasts me and almost knocks me over. I fight against the gusts to slam the door shut, then turn on the flashlight and check both ways before sprinting across the road. It’s dangerous as hell, but my gut tells me that time is of the essence in this situation. I send up a silent prayer that I’m wrong.
    What I find has me sprinting into action. A small SUV is turned on its side. Starting down the muddy embankment, I lose my footing. Slipping and sliding, I struggle to find my balance. I finally reach the front of the vehicle, but the headlights are blinding, making it impossible to see if anyone’s still inside. I’m mindful not to lean on the car, not willing to take the chance of causing it to tip and roll further down the hill. It’s too dark to assess the situation and the rain is still coming down in sheets. Better safe than sorry.
    Very carefully, I make it to the driver’s-side door. I shine the light through the window and can see a woman lying on her side. Her eyes are closed. Shit! I know enough that I shouldn’t try to move her. Reaching into my pocket, I pull out my phone and dial for help. It takes me three tries, as my hands are trembling and wet from the rain.
    “911, what’s your emergency?”
    “There’s been an accident,” I scream over the pounding rain. “I’m just off Anderson Drive, in Jackson’s curves.”
    “Sir, are you hurt?”
    “No, not me. I saw headlights, so I stopped. There’s a woman trapped.” I know I’m probably not making any sense, but my head is too jumbled. I need to help her.
    “Stay with her, help is on the way. I have a team en route, less than five minutes out.”
    “What can I do?” I plead with her.
    I’m crushing the phone to my ear so I can hear her. The rain makes it an almost impossible feat. “Just hold tight, help is on the way. Do not try to move her unless you feel she’s in grave danger,” she yells over the line, cool as a fucking cucumber. I guess that’s why she’s in that position.
    After what I’m sure is the longest five minutes of my entire life, I hear the sirens. “They’re here,” I tell the operator.
    “Good, please remember to allow them to do their job.”
    What the hell? Is this chick for real? “Got it,” I say and end the call. Shoving my phone back into my pocket, I wave my arms in the air. “Over here!” I call out. The two paramedics carefully slide their way down the hill, carrying a board. Just as they reach me, a fire truck and a sheriff pull off to the side of the road. The cavalry has arrived.
    Thank goodness. I hope this woman is okay.
    “Sir, are you hurt?”
    “No, I was driving by and saw the headlights. I’ve been here a little over five minutes. I didn’t touch the car, just shined my light through the window. The woman behind the wheel seems to be