Lucca sipped his beer. “I know how to evaluate talent.”

“You always have,” Tony agreed.

“So, you agree he’ll get some Division I interest?” Lucca asked his friend.

“I do. From one of the major programs, too.”

“That’s excellent news.” Lucca smiled his thanks to the bartender when he set a bowl of pretzels on the table. “Knowing the kid, I’ll encourage him to look hard at a smaller school. I think he’ll be a better fit at a place like Kansas State or Oklahoma State rather than the University of Texas.”

“That’s good to know.”

“I plan on recruiting him,” Tony said. “We need to keep talent like his in state.”

“I don’t know, Tony. Boulder is a great town, but going to school there might be too big a culture shock for Wade, not to mention his parents.”

They discussed Wade’s dreams and his stats and the film of him that Lucca had sent James. The Christmas music drifting from overhead speakers shifted from religiousthemed carols to secular favorites such as “Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer” and Robert Earl Keene’s “Merry Christmas from the Family.” They talked about college basketball, and James asked Lucca when he planned to come back. “I don’t know. I don’t know if I want to come back.” He swirled the beer in his glass as though it were wine. It’s the kind of job that is tough on a family. “Believe it or not, I like coaching in Eternity Springs.”

Tony sat back hard in his chair. “Well, I’ll be damned. You’re in love with the kindergarten teacher.”

He was. Head over heels, no looking back, fist-in-the-face love. “Right now I’m pissed at her.”

Tony grinned over the top of his bottle. “But you didn’t deny the L-word. Did he, James?”

“Not that I heard,” agreed the scout, amusement gleaming in his eyes.

A cold wind swept into the room when the front door opened and a group of newcomers swept inside. As they removed their coats to hang them on the rack beside the door, the bartender asked about the weather. A man replied, “It’s started spitting some sleet. Might get bad in a little while.”

The newcomers started for a table, then they caught sight of Lucca’s group. One of them called, “Coach. Great game today. The Grizzlies are the best I’ve ever seen.”

“Thanks,” Lucca returned. “The team chemistry clicks.”

“You and Coach Montgomery make a good pair. Those boys like playing for you.” He grinned and added, “You inspire them, and they want to show off in front of Hope. Having a pretty female as a high school coach is a secret weapon.”

“You’re probably right.” Lucca had noticed the boys’ peacock posturing to Hope on more than one occasion.

“She’s a good woman,” another man in the group observed. “Sure was nice of her to volunteer to take the Eagles home so they wouldn’t be stuck here until their bus gets fixed.”

Lucca’s spine straightened. “She what?”

“You didn’t hear? The visiting team’s bus wouldn’t start after the game. Ms. Montgomery offered to drive them home. They left about ten minutes ago.”

As Lucca processed the news, his hamburger suddenly felt as heavy as an anvil in his stomach. Today’s opponents had come from Creede. That meant driving over Sinner’s Prayer Pass. The thought of Hope navigating that challenging stretch of road at night was bad enough. The knowledge that she’d be doing it in a bus with a basketball team on board during a sleet storm played into all of his fears.

Lucca shut his eyes, and when a mental image of Hope’s bus sliding off the side of the mountain flashed across his brain, he shuddered.

A sense of urgency swelled inside him. She shouldn’t be making this trip by herself. He should go after her, follow along behind her. He needed to see for himself that she made the trip safely.

Because deep in his heart of hearts, he very much feared that she wouldn’t.

He wiped his mouth with his napkin, then set it on top of his half-finished meal. “Guys, I’m sorry, but I have to go. Tony, when y’all are through here, if you call Mom, I’m sure she’ll swing by and pick you up so you don’t have to walk to Aspenglow Place in this weather.”

“What? Wait a minute. What are you going to do, Lucca?” his twin asked.

“I know it sounds crazy, but I have a bad feeling about this. I’m going to follow the bus.”

Tony nodded. “Okay, I’ll come with you.”

“Me, too,” James added.

“There’s no need—”

“Don’t argue. Let’s pay the tab and go.”

They departed Murphy’s Pub to the sound of “In the Bleak Midwinter,” and Lucca sent up a silent prayer that he was overreacting. However, Celeste’s earlier caution now peeled in his head like a clarion call.

Listen to my instincts. He gave his vehicle a little more gas.

Minutes later, he pulled onto the highway headed south. The tension inside his Range Rover thickened with every mile. Lucca couldn’t say why an overpowering sense of gloom had overtaken him, but it was as real as anything he’d ever experienced. “Tony, just in case, keep an eye on the right side of the road. James, you’ll watch the left?”

“Sure.”

Lucca drove, his hands gripping the steering wheel hard. As they started up Sinner’s Prayer Pass, the tension stretched tighter … tighter … tighter … until he expected something to snap. “Talk to me, Tony.”

“About what?”

“Anything. Isn’t it about time for you to buy a new ride? You trade every two years. What are you thinking about buying?”

“You want a distraction? Now?”

“Please.” He wanted to drown out the noise of sleet pinging against the windows. The road wasn’t bad yet, but by the time Hope attempted a return trip, who knew what it would be like.

“Okay. I’m thinking about a Ferrari this time around.”

Tony’s sports car patter provided the background noise that Lucca’s nerves needed to settle somewhat. As they reached the summit of the pass, he gripped the steering wheel hard. The ride down would be the most difficult part of the trip under these conditions. “Y’all watch closely. I’m sure she made it fine, but …”

Lucca shifted into low gear and took the first switchback. “What color?” he asked his brother.

“I’m thinking white this time.”

“Really?” James asked. “Ferraris need to be red.”

“I drive red now. I’m looking for a change.”

“How about black? Or silver?”

“Perhaps.” Tony continued a monologue discussing options and engines and probably making half the stuff up until, finally, they reached level ground. Lucca took his first easy breath. “It’s not sleeting on this side of the mountain. We should be good to go. Sorry I dragged you guys along on this wild goose chase. This whole bad-weather-and-basketball-buses thing preys on my psyche.”

James said, “Not a problem. I think you needed to pay attention to your angel.”

Lucca did, too, which was why he increased his speed, hoping to catch up with the school bus. Honestly, he wouldn’t rest easy until he saw Hope step into her house and shut the door.

He intended to have her leave the bus in Creede and ride home with them. His Range Rover handled the road much better than her bus. They could make the return trip over the pass without trouble as long as they attempted it in the next hour or so before the ice began to stick. Tomorrow, someone from Creede could drive the bus back and deal with their own broken one. The weather report called for sunshine and temperatures above freezing. Plus, the plows would be out. That should work.

“I see lights up ahead,” Tony said. “Doesn’t look like a car. Might be her.”

Lucca’s foot grew heavier on the gas, and within moments his headlights illuminated the familiar back end of the yellow school bus. “Thank God.”

He no sooner exhaled a relieved breath than he saw the lights of an oncoming vehicle and then a shadow cross in front of them. In seconds that seemed to take hours to pass, he watched the oncoming vehicle strike the shadow … and veer into the school bus.

It happened in an instant. Hope saw the elk, saw the oncoming truck strike the animal. When the truck headed her way, she knew a collision was coming and recognized it as unavoidable.

Thank God, the district had installed seat belts in this bus. Thank God, she’d made everybody buckle up. Grabbing hold tightly to the wheel, she prepared to put the lessons she’d learned in Texas to use. Thank God for Lucca.

Control the crash, she told herself, and she turned the wheel just as the truck collided with her bus.

It seemed to happen in slow motion. She fought the wheel to keep the bus on the road, hearing the echo of Johnny Tarantino’s calm instructions all the while. Behind her, boys yelled in fear and panic, but she tuned them out, listing to Johnny talk in her memory. Just when she thought she had won—that she’d managed to keep the bus on the road—the truck that had hit them completed a spin by clipping them again. Momentum carried the school bus onto a bridge.

The front of the bus crashed through the guardrail. Hope felt herself fall forward, and in that instant, for the first time since the initial hit, bone-chilling fear washed through her. She didn’t recall this section of the road. This was a bridge over what?

Wham. Crash. Forward movement came to an abrupt stop. Glass flew. Metal crunched. Hope slammed against the steering wheel, her seat belt and shoulder harness restraining her from falling into the broken windshield. When movement stopped, she hung suspended—cut, scraped, and bleeding—but alive.

Her first thought flashed through her mind. The baby!

Sound that had seemed muffled during the wreck came roaring back. The boys were yelling, cursing, hollering for help. Even as she tried to rouse herself to full awareness of their situation, she heard the most miraculous sound.