Chapter 8
Claire
My heart almost bursts out of my mouth when I notice Vaughn by the car. He’s covered in snow, the drifts swallowing his legs up to his calves.
“Open the damn door, Claire!” The side of his fist pounds against my window.
Not today, son of Satan. He could freeze into a stupid Montgomery money-sicle for all I care, I’m not letting him in. He just insulted me and kicked me out into a blizzard and now he wants to what? Talk? Invite me in for a fun little reunion? Start a Dead Parents Society? Continue to blamemebecause his mother got traded in for a newer model, again? Nope, not happening.
I turn the key in the ignition again. The dashboard lights flicker then die, and the engine laughs its click, click, clicking sound. I slam my palms on the steering wheel and bite back angry tears. Of all the days my car could turn on me, why does it have to be today?
“Come on, Claire,” his voice calls out.
If I ignore him, maybe he’ll just disappear.
Perfect idea.
I keep my eyes focused on the heavy white layer of snow that covers my windshield and count to twenty.
It doesn’t work. He’s still there.
I want to scream.
“Claire, it’s freezing out here. Open the door, now!” he shouts.
My body tenses and white-hot fire flushes through my body. What makes him think he can talk to me like that? “Leave me alone!” I explode. I slam my hand against the window over and over. My palm stings, but I don’t care. “You and your selfish father—your whole stupid family—you think you’re all so much better. Righteous. Superior. Fuck you, Vaughn. You can’t tell me what to do and you can’t talk to me like that either. Go away!”
Something clanks hard against the window, startling me. I don’t want to look, but it’s bright and illuminated and steals my attention instantly. It’s my cell phone. He’s holding the phone to the glass, and even though the view is dotted with snow and frost, I can make out the awful image of me. Naked. Doing something extremely pornographic.
An instant pounding drums in my ears.
He went through my phone? He invaded my privacy and went through my phone!
My vision blurs.
Vaughn saw that? He saw all those pictures. My skin suddenly feels like it’s covered with a thick layer of dirt and slime. I can hardly breathe. There’s a hard lump in my throat that I can’t swallow down.
I can’t believe he did this to me. How could he go through my phone?
I’m going to kill him!
His face pushes up against the window. The phone with the disgusting picture of me slides toward the front of the car, and his face is level with mine. “Claire?” he shouts through the glass. “What kind of trouble are you in? Come on, open the door and talk to me.”
Instead of doing what he asks, I roll the window three-quarters of the way down. Fat wet flakes come barreling in, melting wherever they land. I keep my gaze locked straight ahead, on the ridges of the steering wheel, and speak through clenched teeth. “I’m not in any trouble and I am very capable of taking care of myself if I was in any.” I shake my head and shove my hand out the window, palm up. “My phone, please.”
Vaughn plops the phone in my hand. It’s slippery and wet.
“Come back in the house with me,” he says in a steady voice. “You’re not driving in this storm.”
Rather than respond to the idiot, I try to start the car again. And again. And. Again.
My face burns hotter each time the engine clicks back at me.
Click. Click. Click. Click.
“You’re not going to start it, just stop! This car is so old you can manually roll down the windows, Claire. And even if you do get it started, you’re not making it down this mountain today, possibly not for a couple of days.”
I jerk my head in his direction and narrow my eyes at him. I refuse to be stuck in his father’s mountain-den of fornication with him. I study his face under that god-awful hat he’s wearing and I want to grab it off his head to warm myself up with. With the window open my seat is now soaking wet with slush and snow and I shiver more. “I’ll just have to stay in my car the entire time, then. Not an issue.”
