Chapter One
Snowflakeshurtleatwarpspeed towards the windshield, and I quickly dip the headlights again. Fuck.
We landed in New York this afternoon, and though we’ve only been on the road a few hours, driving through this snow makes it feel like days. If we’d travelled this far in a straight line from our home in England, we’d either be in a different country by now or way out to sea.
My arms ache from gripping the steering wheel, but this is not the time for casual one-handed driving. I groan. Haven’t we been through enough?
Another huge truck roars past us on the inside lane, and my breath hitches as the windows are completely obscured.
Ethan smirks. “Of all the cars you could’ve hired, whydidyou choose the dinkiest one for driving through the snow?”
“Hey, I already have to get my head around driving on the wrong side of the bloody road,” I snap, though I don’t mean to.“You can’t expect me to also go from our little Dacia to a … a … massive pick-up truck?!”
He bites down on a smile then shrugs, his broad shoulders covering the breadth of his seat. This man drives me absolutely barmy, but my God he looks good in flannel. “A massive pick-up truck?” he teases.
Ethan’s thick, tousled hair peeks out from under a woollen hat, and his close-cropped beard is a little rough and rugged from the journey. Right now, a big American pick-up truck would suit him to a tee.
“I don’t know.” I release the tiniest of smiles. “It was the first thing that came to mind.” I pout. “Plus, Americans love pick-up trucks.” At least, I think they do.
Ethan sighs.
“What?” I pout harder.
“You’re adorable.”
I scowl.
“It’s true!”
I return my gaze to the road and bite my lip to stop from smiling. “Next time, how aboutyoudrive, thenyoucan pick whatever car, truck, or bloody tankyoulike!”
“Okay. Fair.” Ethan raises his hands in surrender.
“And sinceIbooked the holiday, and the hire car, and everything else—”
He drops his gaze to his lap, and I stop myself mid-rant. Shit. There I go again, taking things too far.
I offered to take the reins on this one. In fact, I barely asked for his input at all. I always do this. “Sorry.”
Ethan shrugs. “You know I don’t like driving,” he says quietly.
I take a breath to re-centre myself. “Well it’s a good thing I do.”
I’ve always been the designated driver. Ethan can drive, sure, he just hates doing it. He’s so damn confident in every other aspect of his life, but when it comes to driving—unless it’s goingto and from the college where he works, or toTescodown the road for a food shop—he basically avoids it at all costs.
I smile dimly. He would have driven today had I asked him to. Had I needed him to. He drove his dad to hospital practically every day this summer when he was going through his radiotherapy. Ethan would do pretty much anything, for anyone. All anyone has to do is ask.
But right now,Ineed to do this,for us.
I’m sure, given half a chance, he could’ve booked something just as lovely for us too. He’s perfectly capable of making plans. Of following through. He’s done it before …
We both peer out at the swirling mist of snow, then Ethan squeezes my thigh, his touch warm against the chill in the car. “Thank you. For doing all this.”
I sigh. “It’s okay. It’ll all be worth it.”
I swallow my panic, rising to the occasion. We’ve weathered way worse than this these last few months. At this point, this whole shitstorm, or snowstorm rather, is just the fucking cherry on top.
We fall into a comfortable silence as I concentrate on what little I can see of the winding mountain road ahead. We must be close by now. Surely, it can’t be much further.
