I’m not sure what I’m going to do tomorrow.
And I just feel so… alone.
Swallowing hard against the lump in my throat, I try to force the threatening tears back.
It’s not that bad,I reason. At least I’m alive. So is the dog. And I met someone nice, even though I’m not sure I’ll ever see him again.
Although he acted like he was a local. The officers seemed to know him. So maybe Caleb lives near Bliss, and I’ll run into him around town sometimes.
But if I’m being honest with myself, I don’t want torun into him. I want to spend time with him. Which is stupid, because he’s probably married or dating some gorgeous woman. And then there’s me. A homeless dishwasher slash college dropout with nothing to offer.
Self-pity loosens my control over my emotions, and a few hot tears leak down my cheeks. My throat thickens. A yawning emptiness expands inside my chest.
Stupidly, naively, I have a fleeting wish that Calebwere here. Even though he was kind of grouchy, his nearness made me feel better. I liked how his blue eyes brightened the few times he smiled. I liked how his features softened when he laughed. And I really liked when he touched me.
Stupid, I know. But the heart doesn’t always listen to reason.
A glance at my phone tells me it’s just past eleven, which is surprising since it feels much later than that. I’m exhausted, like I’ve been awake for weeks. I’m not sure how much sleep I’ll actually get tonight, but maybe I’ll get lucky and catch a few hours, at least.
I’m just reaching for my phone to turn it off—I’d rather not, but without my car to charge it, I need to conserve the battery—when something heavy hits the window beside me.
A second later, there’s another heavy thunk.
I screech in fear and scuttle backwards, dragging the quilt along with me.
It falls from the hook I installed on the ceiling and collapses over my head, turning everything black.
Fear blossoms into terror as I try to wriggle free. But with the mess of quilt and sleeping bag wrapped around me, I’m trapped.
Though I can’t see it, a creak of metal tells me the door is opening.
Oh, God.
Was I right about the serial killer?
Or could it be Max, angry that I snuck onto his property?
As I fight to escape the sleeping bag, I plead, “Please, I’m sorry, I’ll leave. Just don’t hurt me.Please.”
“Vienna?”
I freeze at the familiar voice.
A second later, the quilt is pulled off my head.
Then Caleb’s face appears, creased with worry and confusion. “Vienna?” he repeats. “What are youdoinghere?”
Relief and horror crash into me simultaneously.
Pressing my hand to my chest in a futile attempt to slow my racing heart, I gasp, “Caleb? What are you doing here?”
He stares at me for a second before replying drolly, “I think I just asked the same thing.”
He did. I’m just not sure how to answer. “How did you find me?” I ask in hopes of deflecting his question.
Before he can respond, a gust of snow whooshes into the car, reminding me just how cold it is outside. I shiver and pull the fallen quilt around me. Caleb frowns. “You left your purse,” he says. “I only realized once I got back to my car.”
“My purse?” I quickly scan the back of the car, and nope, my blue crossover bag is nowhere to be seen. “I left my purse?”
