“So we’re just going to drive around in a snowstorm? That’s smart. This piece of junk can barely hold the road on a summer day. We’re probably going to end up in a ditch somewhere.” I’m in a foul mood and I don’t care if it shows. I’m not going out of my way to be pleasant to him. He doesn’t deserve it.
“You didn’t seem to care what I drove before.” He curses, swerving to avoid a runaway shopping cart from plowing into us.
“I have a baby to think about now. And if I recall, you’re not exactly the safest driver in the world,” I retort.
I think I’ve been with him through two fender benders and five speeding tickets, but he’s still on the road. Must be nice to have Daddy pay for every mistake. His car insurance rate must be through the roof. Just wait until he gets picked up for driving under the influence. It’s only a matter of time. I’d love to see how his father is going to get him out of that, being underage and all.
“Well that lasted long,” he says, blowing a puff of smoke in my face.
“What did?” I cough, waving my hand to clear the air.
“Your happily ever after,” he sneers. “What, did your farmer prince turn into a steaming turd?”
“Shut the fuck up, Ry,” I lash out at him. “You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about, so don’t even go there.”
“Wow, you’re right back where you started,” he drones on. “But now you’re knocked up and homeless. I’ve known you almost all my life, and I never thought you’d turn into your mother.”
“I’m nothing like my mother!” I shout back.
“Oh yeah? You dropped out college with a year to go. You have no job, no money. Sure, you’re not a total alcoholic, not yet. But your prospects aren’t very promising. You kicked your baby daddy to the curb for whatever reason and now you’re back asking my stepsister for another handout. You’re the definition of a strong, independent woman,” he laughs, tossing his cigarette butt and rolling up the window. “There, is that better?”
I ignore his small concession and remain quiet. What if I am like my mother? If I didn’t go out drinking with Sophie, maybe this baby would be okay. I feel a small twinge in my stomach. Oh no! I can’t get all excited. I was doing so well all week. No spotting. No cramping. I take some deep breaths to steady by heart rate.
“Yep, you’re still the same ungrateful bitch,” he mutters.
I bite my tongue and try to focus on good thoughts.
“Just think, if we did have sex that night, that baby could’ve been mine,” he gloats.
I grip my knees with my hands and close my eyes.
“Oh, c’mon. Are you really gonna act like that? You turned me down, remember? If anyone has a right to be pissed, it’s me,” he says, pointing his thumb at his chest.
“Your friend, Ben, doesn’t seem to think so.” I steel myself against the seat as soon as the words are out of my mouth.
He hits the brakes involuntarily and we skid on a patch of ice. Luckily, there’s no one in front of us. But it didn’t take much to prove that my assumption is right on target.
“What the fuck does he have to do with anything?” he leers at me.
“Quite a lot, I’d say.” I strive to sound disinterested, even though I know I’m playing with fire.
“Ben is a fucking pussy. That’s what he is. And anyone associated with him is a fucking loser.” He spews his venomous insults like he’s shooting a machine gun, one right after the other.
“Hmm, looks like I hit a nerve,” I chuckle, bracing myself against the door handle. I’m on hazardous ground, and there’s no telling how he’s going to react.
“You think you’re so smart, don’t you? You don’t know shit about me and Ben!” he rages on.
“So there is a ‘you and Ben’? Interesting.” This is almost fun.
He drives the Jeep over a snow bank and against a curb. “Not another word. Do you hear me?” His voice is so low. It scares me. He’s leaning over me again and I don’t like it. I’m just about to get out of the Jeep when his phone rings.
“Yeah?” he growls, answering it.
I sit up in my seat as he draws back, straining to hear the other side of the conversation. That was close, but if we have to stay in this Jeep much longer, I don’t think he’s going to be able to control his temper. I know how he is.
“You want me to take her where?” he asks, wrinkling his brow.
Oh great, this sounds promising.
“Lauren, are you sure?” he questions her, shaking his head.
What evil plan has the wicked witch cooked up now?
“All right, but I think you’re crazy,” he needles her. “Yes, she can hear me. So what?”
So Lauren doesn’t like me seeing the discord in their ranks. Why am I not surprised?
“You owe me big time for this because I don’t want to go anywhere near that place,” he seethes, his eyes narrowing.
Oh God, where is he taking me?
“Fine, I’ll call you when it’s done,” he scowls. “Bye.”
The tires squeal as they turn helplessly against the snow, striving for any type of traction. That’s it. If he has to get out and push, I’m stealing his Jeep and leaving him here. It’d serve him right.
But somehow he gets it moving again and heads out into the countryside. I glance worriedly as the familiar landmarks start to get fewer and fewer and we enter into a territory I’ve never been before. The Jeep is chugging hard through the snow, since these back roads aren’t cindered or plowed. The only thing saving us is the four-wheel drive. Despite our unknown destination, I cross my fingers, hoping we make it because we’re miles away from any kind of assistance out here.
Soon, a clapboard house comes into view. It’s small but in good repair. It’s old, but it has a cozy feel to it, like it’s been lived in for generations. It’s definitely giving off a homey vibe. So why is Ryan so irritated? Can the person who lives here really be that bad? Visions of the gingerbread house that ensnared Hansel and Gretel float through my mind as I swallow the lump in my throat.
The porch light is on like someone’s expecting us, and the snow has been swept off the steps. It’s not exactly rolling out the welcome mat, but whoever it is at least is making an effort to be hospitable.
“All right, get out,” Ryan barks, gesturing toward the house.
“What you’re not coming with me?” I ask, suddenly not wanting him to leave.
“This is the end of the line for me, babe. I’m not going anywhere near that place.” He holds up his hand like he’s wardening off some type of voodoo curse.
“Well, thanks for going out of your way to reassure me of your stepsister’s wacky intentions. What the heck I am supposed to say when they open the door? Do they even know who I am and what I’m doing here?” I stall, trying to buy some time.
“It’s all taken care of,” he remarks offhandedly, but I don’t feel reassured.
“I don’t have any of my clothes or even a toothbrush with me—” I entreat him, but he’s prepared for this.
“Lauren’s got it under control. She’ll be sending over what you need, including a laptop so you can get to work. That’s why you’re here, right? To work?” His stare gives me the creeps, like I’ve sold my soul to the devil and now I’m Lauren’s slave for life.
“Awesome,” I deadpan, lowering one foot out of the Jeep and into the blistering snow.
Ryan doesn’t wish me goodbye or good luck or anything to send me on my way. So I slam the door and hustle onto the porch. I don’t even get a chance to knock as the front door opens, and I rush inside to get out of the wind.
I’m still trying to catch my breath as the roar of the storm fades into the background. There’s a fire blazing in the hearth, and two cups of cocoa are situated on a tray next to an oversized recliner. The TV is on and a cat is stretched lengthwise on top of the couch. The whole scene screams comfort and joy.