I slow down, hoping to see some dipshit climbing out of the ditch with a fishing pole. If that's the case, I can go home and get these wet clothes off. But something tells me that won’t be the case.
As I roll by, I can’t help but notice the glow of a cell phone in the driver’s seat.
Shit.
I ease my foot off the accelerator and assess my options.
Do I go on? No one is asking for my help, after all. Or do I stop? Because someone might be in trouble.
I want to keep going.
“Are you still here?” Luke asks.
Groaning, I hit the brake.I have to stop, or else it’ll bother me all night.
“Yeah, I’m here,” I say, ignoring the sudden weight on my shoulders.
I throw the truck in reverse and roll backward until my passenger’s side window lines up with their driver’s side door.“Luke, I gotta go. There’s a car parked half-assed on the side of the road by Peachwood Creek.”
“That’s weird.”
“I know.”
“Well, enjoy,” he says.
“Yeah. Bye.”
“Later.”
I shift the truck into park and rest my head against the seat. My eyes fall closed.Please have stopped to make a call and don’t need real help.
Water splashes around my boots as they hit the ground. I tug the hood of my sweatshirt over my head and approach the front of the vehicle. A cool breeze—the same one I’ve battled all day—washes over me, reminding me that a hot shower, sausage, and mushroom pizza are just down the road.
The windows are foggy, but someone moves as I get closer. I don’t know what I expect—someone to roll down the window? Crack the door? Step outside the car?Regardless, none of those things happen.Nothing happens.
What the fuck?
I rap against the glass with the back of my knuckle. “What’s going on?”
My hands go into my pockets, and I wait.
Nothing.
Frustrated, I clench my jaw. “Do you need help?”
“I don’t know.” Her voice muffled. “I don’t know what’s wrong.”
Okay?“Are you hurt?”
“No.”
“Out of gas?” I ask.
“I don’t think so.”
Oh, for fuck’s sake. “Are you confused?”
“No,I’m not confused,” she says as if offended by the question.
