I blink up at him, confused. Who is he talking about? Who does he think he’s talking to? He must have brain damage. He thinks I’m someone else.
“Th-th-that bastard left my mother and Chloe nothing.” His voice is flat and dark. “D-d-did you get it all?”
“Just shut up and move your feet. You’re confused and you don’t know what you’re saying.” Now that we’re moving, and I’m doing most of the work, my body is sweating from exertion. This is how you get sick, isn’t it?
“I-I-I know exactly w-what I’m saying. Y-your m-mother was like a d-dog. I-if my father threw a stick, she’d run right after it.”
“And you and your father are the reasons why the gene pool needs a lifeguard,” I snap back.
“Your gene pool needs chlorine,” he retorts.
“Stop talking. You’re making yourself look more stupid than you already are.”
“Yeah? Well, you look blue.”
“Yeah, well, I’m cold.”
We’re almost at the house, but the closer we get the harder it is to walk. My clothes are frozen and stuck to my skin, every movement is a struggle. It’s like my clothes are fighting back, trying to barricade me from getting someplace warm. And Vaughn’s blabbering isn’t helping, it’s making me want to clonk him back into unconsciousness. He was much nicer like that.
“Still beautiful, though. That part sucks,” he grumbles. “And don’t touch me when we get inside. None of that Radcliffe voodoo vagina magic. I’d rather die out here.” He’s losing it, rambling incoherently. “My father could never say no to her, could he?”
“Are you trying to talk me into leaving you out here?”
He mumbles something completely inaudible and smiles down like a madman at me.
I’m breathing hard when we make it to the front door.
We collapse onto the porch. “I m-m-made it,” he stammers.
“Wemade it, Vaughn. You wouldn’t have even won a participation award for that blizzard walk.” I reach up for the door and tug it open, I don’t even stand, I just pull it open and crawl inside, dragging Vaughn behind me.
I prop him up on the wall and close the door, sealing the cold out.
Our clothes are drenched, ice and snow melt into puddles on the floor around us. The storm howls outside, like a cry for us to come back out and play, but I pay it no mind now. We’re out of the cold. We’re both safe.
Now I need to look at his head and get us out of these clothes—maybe into warmer ones. Maybe even start a fire. He smacks my hands away playfully when I try to tend to his wound, and mumbles something about me being a voodoo-cooching-gale. Whatever that means. He’s delirious, obviously.
“Fine, I’ll look at it later,” I say, getting up off the floor. I think I should start a fire first, hopefully it’ll warm us quickly, but I don’t see any wood.
That’s strange. I remember seeing a circular stack of wood somewhere here. I check in the other rooms, and in each of the two bedrooms there’s a stack of logs, neatly laying in a large decorative, metal basket. God, it’s like Pottery Barn threw up all over this place, it’s so catalog-perfect. Glad Mommy-dearest had a luxurious life right before she ended it, you know, while I was ignored and made to pay off my family’s debt.
Vaughn grunts something unintelligible back in the living room.
In the guest room, I rush over to the fireplace. My wet clothes have chaffed against my skin so much today I must be zebra-striped with red welts. I pile four or five logs into one another, cringing each time the soaked material cuts into my skin. Thankfully there’s a fire starter log, and with a few flicks of the lighter I find on the mantle, I have an instant blazing fire. Now I need to get out of these clothes. I pull off my shirt and fumble with the button of my jeans, but my fingers are too numb to grasp its tiny shape.
“Is this your room?”
Startled, I spin around, covering my upper body with my arms.
“Is it?” Vaughn’s eyes are super glassy. He probably doesn’t even notice my shirt is off.
“It’s not my room,” I mutter. “And the only other room istheirroom and I’m not sleeping in their bed.Youcan.”
I finally get my button undone and I have to peel the fabric down my legs. “You need to get out of those wet clothes, and you need to warm up.”
“You’re trying to get me naked?”
That’s what he gets from all of this?
