Chapter 1: Dead Battery

“You’re kidding me—come on, not now.” The engine sputtered once, twice, then died with a sad little wheeze. Sixteen-year-old Lila smacked the steering wheel, her phone still balanced precariously on her thigh, half-open messages from her friends lighting up the screen. Outside, the late afternoon sun glared off the hood of her beat-up Honda, the heat shimmering in waves off the asphalt. She’d promised to meet everyone at the diner in twenty minutes, and now she was stuck on the shoulder of Route 17 with a car that had apparently decided retirement sounded nice.

She popped the hood, more out of frustration than any real mechanical know-how. The engine looked like a tangled mess of wires and metal, none of which she could name beyond “the spinny thing” and “the part that smells weird when it’s hot.” Lila blew a strand of hair out of her face and tugged at the hem of her cutoff shorts, suddenly hyper-aware of how exposed she was, just her, the empty road, and the occasional semi truck roaring past fast enough to rock her car on its tires.

The sound of tires crunching gravel made Lila jerk her head up. A squad car rolled to a stop behind her, lights off, but the unmistakable silhouette of an officer stepped out. Lila swallowed hard; she’d never been pulled over before, let alone stranded on the side of the road. The woman who approached had her hair pulled back in a no-nonsense bun, the sunlight catching the silver streaks woven through dark brown hair. Her nametag read Hartwell, and the way she moved slowly, deliberately, like she’d done this a hundred times before, made Lila’s stomach flip weirdly.

“Engine trouble?” Officer Hartwell asked, leaning slightly to peer into the mess under the hood. Her voice was lower than Lila expected, calm in a way that made the back of Lila’s neck prickle. Up close, she smelled like coffee and something faintly citrusy, her uniform sleeves rolled neatly to the elbows.

Lila caught herself staring at the way Officer Hartwell’s forearm flexed as she reached into the engine compartment, fingers brushing against a corroded battery terminal. “Yeah, it just died,” Lila said, too quickly. She could feel her pulse in her throat. “I don’t know anything about cars.”

Hartwell wiped her hands on a rag from her pocket, then straightened up with a small sigh. “Battery’s shot. You’re not going anywhere without a jump.” She glanced at Lila, then at the empty road ahead, like she was weighing something. “I’ve got cables in the trunk. She moved her squad car until the two engines were next to each other.

“You’re lucky I stopped,” Hartwell said, kneeling by the front bumper to hook up the jumper cables. The sunlight caught the fine lines at the corners of her eyes, the way her brow furrowed slightly in concentration. “This stretch of road isn’t exactly safe after dark.”

Lila watched Officer Hartwell’s hands move with a confidence that made her own fingers twitch with restless energy. The cables clinked against the battery terminals, the sound sharp in the quiet between passing cars. “Do you do this a lot?” Lila asked, leaning against the fender to keep her body occupied. The metal was hot under her palms, the late sun pressing down on her shoulders.

Hartwell didn’t look up. “Enough.” There was a pause, then she added, softer, “Mostly for tourists who forget to check their oil before heading up the mountain.” The corner of her mouth twitched—not quite a smile, but something close. Lila felt a sudden, absurd urge to make her laugh outright, to chase that flicker of warmth like it was something she could catch.

Hartwell’s hands stilled for a second as she tightened the last clamp. “Alright,” she said, standing and brushing her palms against her thighs. The motion made her utility belt jingle slightly. “Try starting it now.”

Lila slid back into the driver’s seat, the vinyl sticking to the backs of her thighs. She turned the key, holding her breath, and the engine coughed to life with a reluctant rumble. “Oh my god, it worked,” she blurted, grinning up at Hartwell through the open door. The officer’s expression softened, barely, but it was enough to make Lila’s pulse skip.

Hartwell unhooked the cables with quick, efficient movements, coiling them back into neat loops before tossing them into her trunk. Lila watched from the driver’s seat, drumming her fingers against the steering wheel. The engine idled unevenly, but it was running; that was what mattered. “Thanks,” she said, louder than she meant to. “I mean, seriously. You didn’t have to do that.”

The officer shut the trunk with a muted thud and leaned against the side of Lila’s car, one elbow propped on the roof. “Part of the job,” she said, but there was something in the way she said it—not quite dismissive, but not entirely professional either. Up close, Lila could see the faint freckles dusting Hartwell’s nose. She noticed that Officer Harwell had unbuttoned a couple of buttons of her uniform and was showing a bit of her breasts. Her eyes were on Lila’s legs and the officer licked her lips.

Lila wet her lips, suddenly aware of how dry her mouth had gone. Officer Hartwell was still leaning against her car, close enough that Lila could count the individual lashes framing her hazel eyes. The silence stretched, thick with something Lila couldn’t name—something that made her skin feel too tight, her breath shallow. “So,” she started, then immediately hated how high-pitched her voice sounded. She cleared her throat. “Do you, uh, always rescue damsels in distress, or am I special?”

Hartwell’s eyebrow arched, slow and deliberate. The corner of her mouth twitched again, but this time, it curved into something unmistakably amused. “Damsels, huh?” She tilted her head slightly, studying Lila with a gaze that felt like it could peel back layers. “You don’t strike me as the damsel type. More like a beautiful girl who forgot to check her battery.

Lila felt heat crawl up her neck, not just from the sun this time. She tugged at the frayed edge of her shorts again, just to have something to do with her hands. “I mean, I did just sit there while you fixed everything,” she said, forcing a laugh that came out more breathless than she intended. “Pretty damsel-y behavior if you ask me.”

Hartwell snorted, a quiet, unexpected sound that made Lila’s stomach flip. The officer pushed off from the car and straightened her belt with a practiced flick of her wrist. “Kid, if you were a damsel, you’d have been crying into your phone waiting for AAA.” She said it lightly, but there was a weight to the words, like she was handing Lila a compliment wrapped in teasing.

Lila grinned, pressing her palm flat against the steering wheel to steady herself, not that the car was moving, but her pulse sure was. “Okay, first of all, kid? I’m sixteen, not twelve.” She tilted her chin up, the challenge in her voice belied by the way her fingers tapped an uneven rhythm against the wheel. “Second of all, I was going to call my dad, but he may be drunk by now. You just got here first.”

Hartwell folded her arms, the motion pulling her uniform taut across her shoulders. The sunlight caught the badge pinned to her chest, glinting sharply enough to make Lila blink. “Lucky me,” she said dryly, but the way her mouth quirked at the corner betrayed her.

Lila’s breath hitched when Hartwell’s radio crackled to life, a dispatcher’s voice cutting through the humid air with static-laced urgency. The officer held up a finger to indicate for me to wait and turned slightly to respond. Lila watched the way her jaw tightened as she listened, the way her fingers tapped once, twice, against the mic clipped to her shoulder. Something about a disturbance downtown, something that required backup.

Hartwell’s gaze flicked back to Lila, and for a second, Lila thought she saw something like reluctance in the way the officer’s thumb hovered over the radio’s reply button. Lila heard her say to someone on the other end, “I don’t think she is the one; she’s too local, but I’ll find someone else soon.” Hartwell’s thumb pressed the radio button. “Copy that, en route.” Her voice was all business.”I have to go,” Hartwell said to Lila, her voice lower now, almost apologetic.

Lila’s stomach dropped. “Right now?” The words came out sharper than she meant, her fingers tightening around the steering wheel. The engine idled unevenly beneath her, a shaky reminder that without Hartwell, she’d still be stranded.