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I hesitate, hoping it was just coughing from the cold weather and the sudden drop in temperature, so I try it again and jump a bit when it makes the same noise.
No.
No. What are you doing?
It’s freezing out here, and I need heat. I got carried away with my phone call with Weston and stalking Reid that I didn’t consider hypothermia.
Trying the car one more time, I growl when my car betrays me. Suddenly, a hard tap along the glass of my driver’s side has me jolting again and looking up to see Reid standing outside it in his bad mood and looming presence.
Turning my key so that I can roll down my window only, I force a smile like I didn’t just search his whole life up thirty seconds ago. “Hey.”
“Car problems?”
I hate that he said it out loud because it makes it a reality. Maybe it needs a break. Do I have enough gas?
“Yeah, I think so,” I reply. “It might just need to sit here for a minute.”
“And do what?”
I dunno.
“She’ll be fine,” I convey with a small wave of my hand. “I’ll try again in a minute.”
“Make sure it’s within ten,” he states flatly. “Hypothermia can set in.”
I think it already has.
And why is he still standing here? Doesn’t he have somewhere else to be because he obviously doesn’t want to be here?
“Thanks for stopping by,” I vouch. “And…thanks for everything.”
He grunts, illuminating more of his caveman vibes, and glances at the hood. “Good luck.”
Thanks.
He pivots, and I try to start the car again, but the same disrespectful noise squeals through the air like a banshee trying to escape a cage.
What in the world is happening right now?
“C’mon,” Reid orders, gesturing with his hand for me to get out of the vehicle. “We both don’t have to die tonight.”
He doesn’t have to do anything. Obviously, Reid is too good for our little team, and Weston was right. We don’t need him.
Are you sure about that?
Have you seen Weston skate on the ice?
I grimace a bit at the thought. I blamed the fact that it could’ve been because he was out of practice. Maybe he hadn’t put on a pair of skates in a while because of his knee injury, and I dare not ask him for the history behind that.
Weston didn’t see me notice him fall, and I’ve kept it that way.
And he kept falling.
Each tumble slewing a ribbon of curses through the arena; thankfully, no kids had shown up yet.
Rolling my window back up, I don’t disconnect my stare from his as I reach to grab my phone and purse and open the car door to get out.
The last thing I want right now is a ride from Reid because of all the things I’ve read—not because I’m scared he’ll hurt me, but because I feel guilty—I know I will keep talking out of nervousness.
