“Report it to the police.” Jamie made to throw the box in the bed of the truck.
“No!” I yelled, truly panicked and not just pissed. “Stop, Jamie, please!”
And, miracle of miracles, he did, pausing with the box raised above the edge of the bed. “Why? What’s in here?”
“Mythings. My plants,” I added, when he didn’t look impressed. “Fragile stuff.”
He took a deep, slow breath and looked at me. I wasn’t sure what he saw—actually, yes, I was. He saw a bedraggled, soggy idiot, that’s what—but something about his posture seemed to soften in a way that was visible even through his bulky jacket and the blinding snow.
“You getting in now?” he asked.
“I…” I sucked in a breath and let it out in a cloud. There were not a lot of not-shitty choices here, so… “Yeah. I guess.”
He nodded once. “Climb in this door. Snow’s drifted on the sides of the road.” He threw his door open and ushered me inside.
“I’m gonna get your seat all wet,” I warned as I stepped closer, close enough to feel the blessed heat from inside pouring out.
“Like it makes a difference at this point? Go on.”
I looked him up and down. His jeans were as wet as mine now, and his waterproof parka looked soaked through. He was watching me with a kind of wary resignation, like I was the Brussels sprouts left on his plate and he justhadto deal with me.
I hated that.
But the truck was warm, and I was too tired to keep fighting. So, I threw my backpack in, then climbed up and over the driver’s seat, trying to slide around the center console without putting my feet on anything.
I felt decidedlydrippy. It was not a good look on anyone.
I hated that too.
Jamie waited until I was situated and had pulled my belt on before handing me my box.
“You need anything from your trunk?” he asked.
I hesitated, then dug out my keys with numb fingers and handed them over. “Blue suitcase. I’m thinking I’ll need a change of clothes.”
Jamie didn’t say a word, just nodded once and closed the door before heading over to my car. Through the snow, I saw the headlights flash as he disengaged the locks, then flash again a moment later as he re-engaged them. A minute passed, and then the suitcase landed in the bed of the truck. I winced, wondering if any of the clothes inside it would be dry by the time I got to the shelter at the elementary school, but whatever. Beggars couldn’t be choosers, and I was definitely a beggar right now.
I hated that, most of all.
Jamie opened the door and pulled himself in. He took his hat off and threw it on the center console before turning up the blower for the heat. Without a word, he put the truck indriveand we began the longest, most monumentally uncomfortable ride to O’Leary that two people have ever endured.
No, but seriously, though.
Even Jamie’s heavy truck could onlycrawlthrough the snow, it was falling so hard and deep. Plus, once the heat kicked in, the little cab started to feel like a sauna—the insides of the windows were coated with condensation, and my head started to sweat. In the meantime, my feet were rotting inside my sneakers, and I couldn’t seem to get my fingers warm, despite putting them in front of the blower.
And all the while? Dead radio silence. Like,literally. Jamie had the volume turned all the way down, as if he could concentrate on driving better without music or something, so the only sounds in the whole world were the swish of the wipers, thewhooshof air through the vents, and the horrible squeaking noise every time my damp thighs moved against the seat, which was more and more often as the level of awkwardness grew.
Thiswas Alanis-Morisette-level irony, right here. For months and months, I would have paid money to have Jamie Burke as a captive audience because I’d beensoconvinced that if he’d just listen to me, justlookat me, the part of him that had once liked a part of me would peek out from beneath all his anger, and we could somehow, maybe, be friends.
Now, I just wished I were somewhere—anywhere—else.
A flash of purple speared the sky and I gasped.
“The fuck was that?”
Jamie turned his head slightly to look at me. “It’s called lightning, Parker. It’s a strange phenomenon—”
“Lightning? In winter?” Some memory from another time and another place surfaced in my brain and I whispered, “Wait. Is this what they call…thunder snow?”
