3. Lachlan
THREE
Lachlan
E asily, one hundred snowflakes fall and land in a whirl of brunette waves as this woman rushes around her car and jumps into my Discovery.
She clips in her seatbelt before looking my way, but the scent of her shampoo hits me in the face before getting a good look at her. I know who she is, and she absolutely cannot travel with me.
“Thank you. Where are you headed?” Her mouth hangs open on the last word as she turns to me. “Shit.”
“Get out of my car.”
“Are you kidding? You just asked if I needed help. I obviously need help.”
“I don’t care.”
“Is this your idea of a sick joke? I’m freezing in there.”
“That isn’t my problem.”
“Are you really not gonna help me?”
I’m not sure if she’s na?ve or stupid, but whatever it is makes me fucking laugh, and it’s been years since I’ve laughed. The sound is different, cold and hollow, and so alien from my happy memories. “No. Helping you last time ruined my fucking life.”
Lourdez shrinks in her seat, looking smaller than ever. It’s easy to see why the judge took one look at her and another at me and my height and dished out a three-year sentence. I’m only surprised her lies didn’t get me a longer stay in that hellhole.
“Lochlan—”
“Get.Out.”
“Okay.” She sighs and accepts defeat. “Please, tell your brother I tried to get there.”
Her words are like a dagger in my chest. I refuse to look at her, keeping my eyes on the road ahead, on the tracks where her bald tires have disrupted the perfect snowy scene.
The moment she slams my door, I take off. A quick glance in the mirror shows her leaning over that shed on wheels. Her body rocks like she’s crying, and the last words she said to me have guilt tripping me up enough for my foot to tap the brake.
I come to a slow stop, checking the rearview mirror to see if she’s heading my way. She isn’t.
She probably thinks I’ll drive off before her fingers wrap around the door handle.
Trust doesn’t exist between us.
Thoughts swirl in my head— letting her into this car will only mean trouble. More lies. Another jail sentence.
“Fuck.”
Her body faces me now, her image getting covered in snow and shivering.
Shifting gears, I stretch my arm over the passenger seat to get a better view of the road behind me while I drive in reverse.
The last thing I want is to run this woman over because no one in this town would believe it was an accident.
A wave of snow splashes her, sinking down into her little ankle boots, and I can’t help but laugh when she jumps.
“Get in the fucking car,” I say through clenched teeth and a wound-down window.
As instructed, she gets inside, toeing off her wet boots and placing them in line with the footwell heater.
“You’re heading to see your brother? Or taking me home first?”
“Yes, I’m heading to see my brother. You can come, but we don’t need to make chit-chat on the way.”
She nods, looking out the window, avoiding me, as I avoid her by focusing on the road. But it’s fucking hard to do. I have so many questions, and they’re filling my fucking head, and my anger with her is filling the fucking vehicle.
I roll down the window, needing to air some of the tension out.
“Are you serious right now?” Lourdez’s head snaps to me so fast I wouldn’t be surprised if she has a neck injury.
“What did I do or not do this time?”
“You opened a window.”
“Is that a crime?”
“I’m freezing. You splashed snow into my boots.”
“That wasn’t intentional.” Her face softens at my words, then hardens again with the next. “But it was funny.”
“Fuck you.”
“Never again. No quick and boring fumble is worth another three years.”
“Well, I’m sorry I was no fun. I had just been assaulted. And do you want to spend the next three hours making me feel guilty? Or focusing on the road because the conditions are bad.”
“Yeah, I have eyes. I can see the condition of the roads. My mouth is what’s guilting you, if you’re capable of actually feeling that.”
“I’m not heartless?—”
“You certainly were that day on the stand. The whole town hates me because of you. My whole family moved away because they couldn’t stand all the slander. With my name attached.”
“Yeah. I think we should just stop talking.” Her teeth, in all their gleaming glory, chatter. The heaters do nothing to warm her up while my window stays open.
“Why?”
“Because all we’ll do the entire journey is argue if we don’t.”
“That’s not what I meant.” I steal a glance at her, and I hate that she still disgusts and intrigues me.
She should no longer be my brother’s sweet friend, one I’d had too many naughty dreams about. What she did to me should have blocked those thoughts in my head, but as she stares at me with those big brown eyes, I can’t help but feel like I’m choking on the question I need to rephrase.
I clear my throat and try again, “Why did you lie about who attacked you that night?”
“Does it even matter anymore?” Tucking her hair behind her ear, she not only reveals glittering piercings but also a bruise on her cheek, covered in foundation and layers of blush.
Something twists inside me, wondering who hurt her. The thought morphs into another. She probably deserved it.