Page 115 of Healing Eleanor

Crap. Rehearsal starts at eight, and I don’t even have my car. This is a disaster.

I call a cab, pacing on the icy sidewalk while my breath fogs in the bitter air. Snow clings to the ground in a thick white blanket. Who knows how long it will take a cab to make it through this?

If I wasn’t so ashamed, I would call Dillon or Gabriel. But then I’d have to explain why I drank again. Why I failed. I couldn’t even face the truth myself, much less put it into words.

Fifteen minutes later, headlights cut through the haze. Relief washes over me as the cab pulls up, even though my body is frozen stiff from waiting.

The ride doesn’t take long. A cold knot forms in my stomach as we pull up to The Fig and Ash, my car sitting brazenly in the middle of the lot. A heavy quilt of snow covers the roof and windshield. Perfect. Just perfect. I want to punch myself for not covering it. All I can do now is pray it will start.

I pay the cab driver and yank an old towel from my trunk, swiping snow off the hood and windshield. It’s not exactly effective, but it’ll have to do.

Sliding into the driver’s seat, I jam the key into the ignition. Click. Nothing. Again. Click. Again. Click.

I let my head fall against the steering wheel, my laughter sounding more like a sob.

Of course. I deserve this. Every bit of it. If this is my punishment, so be it. I’ve earned worse.

I pop the hood, hoping for a miracle I know won’t come. What I need is a jump, and there isn’t a single car in sight. I check my phone again.

6:55 a.m.

At best, I’ll make it to rehearsal looking like a wreck. At worst, I’ll be late and Kasper isn’t exactly the understanding type with me right now.

Then I hear it—tires crunching through snow. Hope sparks, only to crash when I see who it is.

Kayla? Kendall? Something with a K.

Of all people… why does it have to be her?

Her blonde curls spill out from her hood, hands shoved in her coat pockets. “Nik? Didn’t think I’d see you again after the way you bolted last night.” She laughs, the sound grating on my nerves.

I stare, still trying to drag her name from the fog.

“Kelly,” she supplies, nose wrinkling. “Yeesh, you’re a forgetful drunk.”

Drunk. The words pierce me like needles. Ten years without hearing it, and now look at me.

“Sorry. Long night,” I mutter.

She smirks. “They all are.” Her boots crunch closer. “You didn’t even ask me to come. I was hoping for a little fun—like old times.”

A shiver skates down my spine. “Uh, yeah. Right. Sorry.” I turn back to the dead engine. Kasper will just have to live with me being late. I can’t do this.

“Car trouble?”

“Yup. Starter’s shot.”

“Have any jumper cables?”

“I do.”

“I can help. Let me pull my car closer.”

I give a tight nod. “Thanks.”

Once her car’s in position, I hook up the cables. My engine roars back to life, and the sound nearly makes me weep. “Thanks, Kelly.”

“No problem.” She tosses her curls back like this is the start of something, not the end.