Fireproof by Alex Kendrick Page A

And y’all enjoy that ice storm, you hear?
    On the other hand, the embarrassment of watching a white man try to dance in the presence of cool perfection . . .Well, that was cause for concern.
    Wayne, however, showed no concern at all.
    â€œOh yeah. Better look out, Terrell.” Wayne shook his hips while washing the engine, then slid his head back and forth as though it were resting on a swivel stick. “’Cause I’m about to give you a li’l bit o’ this, and a li’l bit o’ that.”
    Hokey didn’t even begin to describe it.
    â€œYou’re about to what ?”Terrell coughed a sharp laugh into his hand. “You got to be kiddin’ me. Whatever you think you look like, that ain’t what everyone else is seeing.”
    â€œDo I sense some jealousy?”
    â€œJealousy? Wayne, you’re an embarrassment to every color-challenged person who already can’t dance.”
    Wayne was not to be dissuaded—a li’l more of this, and a li’l more of that.
    Caleb could see that Eric wasn’t sure whether to laugh out loud or hide behind the truck. It took some getting used to these guys, but it was all in fun, and he had a feeling the rookie would fit in soon enough.
    â€œEric, you still got a dull spot on that driver’s door,” Caleb said.
    â€œYes, sir.”
    Caleb left the dance scene and headed into his office, where the lights were down low and a screen saver of his dream boat bobbed on virtual waves. What he wouldn’t give to be out on the Gulf right now, away from the drudgery of the station and the embarrassment of a marriage that was going up in smoke.
    BETHANY MEASURED THE distance to the railroad tracks ahead and figured she would make it before Ross and Kyle caught up in their low speedster. She’d got the jump on them, and anyway she was a girl. They’d back off after giving her a scare. She was sure of it.
    She was wrong.
    â€œBethany, slow down,” Kelsey begged from the passenger seat.
    The road was narrowing to one lane in each direction, and Ross seemed intent on overtaking the girls before they reached the crossing. He showed no signs of backing down. The nose of his car pulled even with the Kia.
    Bethany set her jaw and narrowed her eyes. A split-second glance showed the boys laughing, whooping, and having a good time. They were used to this sort of game, to the stare-down, the whole macho deal.
    Who did they think they were? She’d show them.
    She crushed the pedal to the floor.
    â€œBethany!”
    The train tracks were rushing at them, silver and shiny, growing larger, larger. The car would sail over the embankment, probably get some air, and come down hard. What if they slid into the tree on the other side? What if—?
    With Kelsey’s scream in her ears, Bethany Dawson panicked.
    And slammed on her brakes.
    The sudden deceleration pulled the wheel in her hands, causing the driver’s side front panel to veer into Ross’s sports car. There was a crunch of metal, followed by an angry yell that turned into screams—from the boys, from Kelsey buckled in beside her, and from the grinding of the vehicles.
    Then, overcorrecting, she spun her car the other way, and the world went haywire in a flash . . .
    Tires squealing; brakes and rubber lacing the air with burnt odors; the entire steering column coming at her, pinning both legs as the Kia pinballed off the cross-arm warning pole; air bags deploying; then, finally, in slow motion, sliding sideways up the pavement and slamming down into the groove between the tracks.
    CALEB’S CELL PHONE rang. Caller ID told him it was his father. “Hey, Dad.”
    â€œSon, you busy?”
    â€œNo, not really.”
    â€œI heard your message. What’s going on?”
    â€œWell.” Caleb kept his voice even. “I think Catherine and I are done.”
    â€œOh, I doubt that. Everyone goes through rough times.”
    â€œNo,