She gives me a shove with her shoulder, and I still my knee and lean forward, placing my forearms on my thighs. I swallow, fighting my nerves. I don’t really understand what’s happening. I’ve never actually experienced fear like this for anyone other than Charlie, and it’s throwing me for a loop. I don’t like feeling out of control—it makes me irrationally angry.
“Talk to me, Seb.”
I glance over at Fi. Her cheeks and the tip of her nose are a rosy-pink color. “I’m not really much of a talker.”
Her eyes crinkle at the edges as she smiles patiently. “I know, but it’ll make you feel better. Trust me.”
Shockingly, I do trust her, which is why I say, “tell me more about Dennis.”
Fi stiffens, and the silence stretches until I assume she’s not going to answer, which is fair, I suppose; we don’t know each other that well yet. But then she takes a breath and blows it out in a cloud of white air.
“There isn’t much to tell.” I see her hands flexing in my peripheral vision. “He’s my stepdad. I’ve known him since I was ten, and we’re not very close.” She pauses. “Dennis isn’t a very nice person.”
I glance at her, and she looks away, clearly uncomfortable with the conversation. “Has he always been violent?”
“That’s the first time he’s actually attacked me, if that’s what you’re asking,” she replies cagily.
“I’m scared for you,” I admit quietly. “Seeing him assault you—it made me so angry, and that’s not me. Marcus was always the hothead in our family.”
“You punched Brantley in the face,” she points out.
“Yeah, and that was weird too. I’ve been feeling out of my depth lately, and it’s…unsettling.”
Fi’s small hand reaches over and covers mine, her thumbtracing circles on my chilled skin. “While it’s sweet that you care, I’m okay, Seb. You don’t have to worry about me.”
“And what if I don’t have a choice in the matter? How do we deal with that?”
She looks up at me through her lashes, and despite the shadows angling across her face, her jewel-toned eyes pin me in place. My gaze drops to her mouth, and my breaths quicken as I stare, something stirring below my waist. I shift my weight.
Just then, we’re bathed in headlights, and Fi and I turn to shield our eyes from the brightness. I squint at the dark gray truck crawling up the road toward us, the wipers whipping back and forth against the steadily falling snow.
I stand and pull Fi up beside me. “Is that him?” Fi nods. “Why am I not surprised that he owns a big truck?”
She snickers. “Don’t stereotype him, Seb. He might surprise you.”
“Unlikely,” I grumble as the truck comes to a stop.
The engine cuts off and Michaels steps from the cab. He’s wearing that stupid brown leather jacket with a sweatshirt hood draped over the collar. His hair is covered by a gray toque except for a few blond strands visible on his forehead, and he’s wearing a smug little smirk that I’d like to slap off his face.
“Car trouble?” he asks cheekily as he approaches us, his boots crunching over the snowpack.
Fi rolls her eyes and walks up to him. “Thank you for coming, B. I know it was kind of a long way.”
His eyes soften. “Of course.” Then he turns to Fi’s BMW. “Probably not the smartest idea driving that little sedan in this weather.”
“We didn’t really plan on a snowstorm,” Fi says with a frown.
“Should I ask what you two are doing all the way down here?” Michaels looks over at me and then back down at Fi.
Fi purses her lips. “It’s a long story. Can you just take us the rest of the way to my family’s cabin?”
“Fi,” I start, “maybe he should take us back to Flurry to get a hotel room. We should probably talk to a mechanic there about a tow and getting your car fixed.”
Michaels shakes his head. “There’s only one motel in town, and I don’t think you want to stay there.”
I narrow my eyes. “How do you know that?”
He shrugs. “My dad lives about thirty minutes from here, and we came to Flurry a lot when I was a kid.” He grimaces. “It always kind of gave me the creeps. Lots of riffraff, drugs, sex workers, you name it. The Travel Lodge has serious Bates Motel vibes.”
