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Analyzing every single word he spoke has kept my thoughts in a knot all damn day.
I’ve been staring at my front door for ten minutes, the winter boots on my feet making them sweat. My car keys are clutchedtightly between my fingers. I need a push. Someone to shove me out the door and into my car.
It’s minus thirty degrees today, which means no walking to the pole studio without risking frostbite. I didn’t tell Brody about my plans today because I didn’t want him to have to feel responsible for carving out even more of his time to chauffeur me there and back, especially after his gruff attitude when he dropped me off last night.
Bryce or Poppy would have driven me, but they both go to the studio early, and I stupidly hyped myself up about driving this morning instead of reaching out before they’d left. Now I’m stuck with either bailing on class or toughing it out and climbing behind the wheel.
“Just drive the damn car, Anna,” I grit out.
Lifting my chin, I roll my shoulders and step outside. The sun is near blinding, and I have to squint at the porch stairs so I don’t trip and fall on the ice there?—
There’s no ice.Howis there no ice?
My jaw falls open as I search the stairs and find nothing but blue specks of ice melt. Sharp-looking shards of it lie scattered on top of the new snow piles lining my shovelled sidewalk.
This wasn’t me. Was it my neighbours? Unlikely, considering I haven’t spoken to a single one of them since I moved in. I passed out early last night and then chickened out this morning, deciding to stay huddled in my warm bed for as long as I could instead. It was a problem for another day, but now . . . gratitude swells in my chest.
The walk to my car is easy without the snow and ice, and I pause when I realize my car has been brushed off as well. I don’t even have a snow brush. Haven’t needed one.
Maybe it was Poppy or Bryce. Those two women would do just about anything to help me out.
The inside of my car isfreezing. My teeth chatter as I turn over the engine and gape in horror when it sputters, ticking over and over instead of starting. I try again, and again.
It’s dead.
The. Battery. Is. Dead.
My palms hit the steering wheel before my forehead does. Tears of frustration well in my eyes before spilling over. They run down my frozen cheeks, and I’m surprised they don’t turn into ice chips.
This is so embarrassing. My neighbours are probably watching me from inside, chattering about how unprepared I was for this winter season. How long did I stand staring at my door before finally gaining the nerve to come out here, only to find my car dead? As if it wouldn’t die without being plugged in at all. It’s probably been dead since the first cold night.
“Ugh!” I shout, flinging myself back in my seat.
My teeth won’t stop clacking together, even when I bite down. The thick jacket can’t protect me from this level of cold. I can’t sit here and freeze to death. But what the hell am I supposed to do now? I don’t know how to boost a car, let alone have cables in the first place or anyone to hook them up to. My father never taught me things like this, and as if Stewart was going to spend his time giving me a lesson on boosting a battery.
I pull my phone from my pocket and focus on keeping my fingers from shaking. Anxiety bares its teeth at me, the distance between my mind and the looming pain of its bite closing in as the seconds tick by. It’s a task in itself just to pull up Bryce’s contact and press the Call button.
The ringtone continues to drill my eardrums before her voicemail catches the call. I swallow when I look at the time and realize pole has already started.
That leaves me with . . . zero options. Or maybe not. They have to have a tow truck service in this town, right? My fingershave grown stiff and partially numb as I bring up Google and look for one. I laugh sharply when the only one is half an hour out of town.
The next call I make isn’t one I understand, but I do it without hesitation. The moment I hear his voice after the third ring, I don’t feel so damn alone.
“You okay?”
“Hi to you too.”
“Sorry. Hey. You’ve just never called me out of the blue before.”
“My car is dead,” I blurt out, unable to keep it in and play coy right now.
A pause. “You’re in your car? Were you goin’ to drive?”
“I have a pole class. I wanted to drive myself. But it’s so cold and I haven’t plugged my car in at all since I’ve been here and I don’t have booster cables or even a car to boost it with and it’s really cold in here and I just?—”
“Take a breath,” he instructs, voice dropping into a soothing caress. My next inhale is shaky, but at least I can breathe. “Do you have anyone to call?”
The striking truth of my answer is a hammer to my heart. “Nobody that can come and help me.”
