Chapter 2
CHAPTER TWO
Idon’t realize I’ve dozed off until Tyler swerves the car hard enough for my head to thump painfully against the window. My hands clutch for something—anything—as my brain tells me we’re rolling off some steep decline into a culvert that’ll kill us all.
Instead, when my eyes finally focus on our surroundings, all I see is the sky that’s gotten significantly darker since the last time I looked, and a building we’re approaching slowly as Tyler rolls through the parking lot.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he grumbles, leaning forward to squint at the two old-timey gas pumps sitting in front of the even older building.
It’s a work of architectural mastery, given that the wooden sides are leaning inward, slouching like they might fall in at any moment.
Clearly, either God himself is holding it up, or whoever built it had a way with wood that the rest of us can only dream of.
“What’s wrong?” I sigh, the words out of my mouth before I can stop them. With my head throbbing, my bad attitude is at the forefront of my mind, and I can’t bite back my opinions any longer. “Don’t know how to operate something that isn’t a smart device?”
The look Tyler throws at me isn’t exactly friendly, and he slams on the brakes by the gas pump hard enough for Scotty to hit the console in front of him with a yelp.
But thankfully, this time I’m ready for it.
With my knees and hand braced against the back of the seat, I’m only jostled a bit while holding his gaze with raised brows.
“Tyler, can you please stop being a child?” Ariana sighs, picking up her phone off the floorboard with a withering glare at him.
“I can get the gas. My dad taught me to use a pump like this. We just need to pay first.” When she opens her door, I’m quick to follow, and our sneakers send up little clouds of dust from the bone-dry ground.
Thunder rumbles as I close the door behind me. From the corner of my eye, I see Scotty scramble out of the front seat, though his eyes are on Tyler like he’s waiting for an order or to follow his lead.
Truly, he’s the most loyal puppy I’ve ever met, and that’s not a compliment.
Before I say something not very nice, I turn away from the car where Tyler is unscrewing the ancient gas cap, and take my time to stretch my legs, letting my eyes rove over every inch of the area around us.
“Is this…?” I trail off, glancing behind me, only to find that none of my travel companions are paying attention.
With my phone still in the car, I can’t really tell how long we drove after I fell asleep.
Though with how dark it got from the approaching storm clouds, I imagine it’s been at least an hour or two.
Another roll of thunder sounds from further away, and I glance toward the darkest part of the sky to see lightning forking between the clouds.
Somehow, I didn’t count on it storming while we were in Texas. Movies and media have always led me to believe that the state is a completely dry one, with brittle ground and tumbleweeds stumbling across the road.
Sure, the grass is pretty dead and dust is definitely coating my shoes as I walk across the unpaved lot of the gas station, but it’s not too different from some small towns back in Tennessee in mid-July.
The only difference I can feel is the lack of wet heat, and that my sweat seems to evaporate the moment it dares show up on my skin, rather than soaking my t-shirt and making my clothes stick to my skin.
It’s a nice change, frankly, and suddenly I realize why some people prefer dry heat to what we get up in the Ohio River Valley.
My stomach twists, reminding me unkindly that I haven’t eaten since much, much earlier this morning.
It’s enough to draw me away from the sight of the small, dusty town sprawling out around us, with only a few handfuls of buildings and a meandering car heading up the winding road to the east.
I’ve never, ever, seen a town this…quiet. There’s very little noise or movement anywhere other than the gas station where Tyler and Scotty are talking too loudly and a bit unkindly about people who refuse to move into the twenty-first century.
I roll my eyes up to the clouds, wishing I was anywhere but here. If things were different, if I were here with Emma and Sasha and—
Shutting down that line of thought is so hard that I have to make a physical effort by gritting my teeth together until my jaw aches.
I turn and continue to trudge across the dusty lot, barely sparing a glance for Scotty, who was left on gas duty and looks more than a little uncomfortable handling the vintage pump.
I could help.
But fuck, I really don’t feel the need.
Instead, I head toward the small building with glass windows that’ve clearly seen better decades and a metal door that somehow weighs more than I think it should as I drag it open.
A dog barks as I go in, and when I look up, I see a black and tan head peering at me from around the side of the building, making me hesitate.
I always have time to pet a dog, after all.
But before I can even consider letting the door fall closed without me slipping inside, the dog suddenly ducks behind the building, heading out of sight with a quick sound like something got knocked over to make room for its progress.
That makes my decision for me, and I step inside, not expecting the cool wash of air conditioning to hit me like a waterfall as soon as I close the door behind me.
“That’s nice,” I whisper to myself, running my fingers through my long, blonde ponytail. I need to take it down and brush my hair, but I know it’s going to be sweaty and gross, so that’s something I’m avoiding until I can’t any longer.
The sweat on my skin cools uncomfortably in the AC, becoming clammy on my face, though I wipe it away with the hem of my t-shirt before heading deeper into the small store.
The lighting definitely leaves something to be desired, and the snack aisle is stocked with brands I’ve never heard of and all kinds of little cakes that I stare at as if I’m deciding on my life’s most important choice.
But hey, there are only so many times I’ll get to try butter cake or praline, so why rush the decision?
I reach out, fingers hovering, and tug on the plastic covering of the chocolate chip butter cake, trying to figure out what that could even taste like.
“I, uh, I wouldn’t pick that one if I were you.” The masculine voice makes me jump and I turn, surprised, to see the man behind me giving me a sheepish, almost apologetic smile. “Sorry, miss. I’m just tryin’ to save you a night of regret or a delay to your drive,” he adds meaningfully.
It takes a moment for me to realize what he’s saying, and when I do, I immediately jerk back from the butter cake like it’s burned me.
“Oh. Wow, umm. Thank you. Seriously, that’s…
yeah. I sort of have a sensitive stomach, anyway.
” That’s way too much information to give a stranger, I realize, internally cringing.
“So, uh, I could use all the help I can get in not regretting my life choices.”
He chuckles and steps forward, his auburn hair looking soft in the dim fluorescents above us.
My body stiffens when the man is close enough for me to feel the heat of his body, but he just reaches past me and tugs another snack cake off the shelf, this one with a much less faded package.
“These are pretty safe,” he informs me in a heavy drawl that sounds anything but cliché on his tongue.
“I’ve been eating them for the last thirty-some years.
Haven’t killed me yet.” He steps back to hold it out to me, and I take the brownie-cookie combo from him.
“Thank you.” My eyes find his, and for a moment, I’m sure his gaze is black. But when he shifts, the light hits just right to show off the deepest, richest brown I’ve ever seen in a person.
“Hey, bro.” Tyler’s voice cuts through my silent admiration, causing both of us to turn and look at where he’s standing at the counter, across from an ancient old woman who might have been born sometime between the fall of Rome and the Salem Witch Trials.
With one glance, I can tell she’s incredibly unimpressed by the whole situation, and her milky eyes are narrowed, mouth in a line as she looks around at our little group. “She’s not into you.”
His words have me wanting to die on the spot, and the man’s brows climb toward his bangs in surprised disbelief. A small, incredulous smile touches his lips, and when he shifts to face Tyler, I see a gleam of silver at his waist.
A badge.
He’s a fucking cop.
My lips part slightly, and I consider warning Tyler that maybe, just maybe, this is not the time. Yet the smirk on his face and the sneer whenever he talks to me have the words dying on my tongue, and I instead do my best to study the wrapper of the brownie-cookie-cake combo in my hands.
“Doin’ alright, Ms. Hewitt?” the cop in front of me asks, not replying to Tyler, but the old woman behind the counter.
She smiles a little, her pale eyes cloudy and maybe not quite seeing all of us as clearly as she could’ve three hundred years ago.
She glances sidelong at Tyler, a clear sign she could be doing better with the removal of a few customers from her establishment.
“Good to see you, Fox.” She nods and beams at the man in front of me, who shifts a little and chuckles, like he’s flattered by her charm.
It’s sort of adorable, if I’m being honest with myself.
It also lessens the distance between us, allowing me to clearly smell his aftershave that floods my nose in a way that makes me want to lean embarrassingly closer. Just to get a deeper breath of it.
That’s embarrassing as fuck.
“You know you should call me Sheriff in front of guests, Marianne,” he chastises, and swaggers up to the counter, barely seeming to notice Tyler. He turns when he gets there, eyeing the shorter, younger man, who scowls in response.