I wait until it’s open wide enough that Noah can hear me before calling after her. “We both know you’re coming back to me later, mon ange. Be good.”
Chapter thirty-five
Noah
Ihad Sawyer wait in the truck while I cleaned off the snow. Good thing, too. The piles are so wet and heavy it takes twice as long as usual to clear the windows and mirrors.
When I open the driver’s door, a blast of hot air welcomes me inside.
Sawyer grins as I shake all the fresh flakes from my hair. It’sreallycoming down.
I take my time backing up, getting a feel for the conditions. Then I ease down the driveway and quickly discover the almost complete absence of traction under my tires.
I hadn’t even thought about putting snow tires on the truck. I hadn’t gotten around to a lot of weatherproofing and winter prep yet, to be honest. It never snows this intensely or this early around here.
Right away it’s clear the conditions are treacherous. I’m going to have to go dig out Edna in the next day or two. I’ll call her in a bit and make sure she doesn’t try to drive in this.
I press down on the gas, only for the tires to spin aimlessly for a few seconds. We jerk forward once I regain traction—then we slide several feet before I’m able to correct it.
Dammit. Quickly, I regain control, then grasp Sawyer’s thigh.
“All right?”
“Yeah, fine,” she says, squeezing my hand.
I squeeze hers in return, then grip the wheel at ten and two. “I don’t expect to see anyone out this way and there aren’t any ditches or bridges from here to the main road, so even if we slide off the road, we’re safe.”
“I trust you,” she offers plainly.
And that feels damn good to hear.
“This much snow isn’t normal for Ohio this time of year, is it?”
I shake my head but keep my focus on the road. Or on where I think the road is, given the landmarks I can make out.
“Definitely not normal,” I mutter as I hit the brakes harder than necessary to test the antilock system.
Sawyer emits a little squeal as we come to a grinding halt.
When I look over again, one hand is splayed over her chest, her breathing heavier now.
“Just checking the brakes,” I assure her. “I can take you back if you’re not comfortable out here.”
Eyes widening, she shakes her head. “No, I’m fine. I was just startled, that’s all. Like I said… I trust you to keep us safe.”
Her words should feel like warm, wanted praise. They should. Yet unexpected tendrils of shame lick up my spine. I’d doanything for her—and for Mercer—hell, even for Tytus. I like to think I can care for the people I love, but history has proven otherwise.
Shaking my head, I strike the thoughts from my mind. Today’s not the day to spiral. Especially since everyone else is doing plenty of that without me adding my trauma into the mix.
With a deep breath in, I push down the sense of inadequacy and the fear. “I just want to make it out to the main road to see how many times the plows have passed through. I’ll go slow, but I need you to stay buckled the entire time, just in case.”
“Got it,” Sawyer confirms.
The radio’s off, and the task at hand requires intense focus. Typically, I’m fine with silence, but the quietness of the cabin is a stark reminder of all the things I want to say to the woman by my side.
We’ll get into it. We’ve got time.
Right now, I just need to get us through this.
