I blink. “Why would I sabotage your car?”
He shrugs. “You tell me.”
There’s no heat behind it, but it’s not quite a joke either. Like he wants to be mad at me but can’t figure out how.
And honestly—I’d take his anger over his tears any day. If he’s angry, it means he still cares.
I probably deserve worse anyway.
I glance at my phone. “I’ll text Jason—let him know we’ll be a couple hours late.”
Carter nods and pulls out his own phone. “We’re about…seven miles from downtown. On a normal day, that’d be what, a two-hour walk?”
“Yeah, but in this?” I glance at the snow swirling outside the windows, already stacked against the sides of the car. “More like three. If we even make it without freezing to death or getting clipped by a car in the dark.”
He sighs and drops his phone into the cupholder. “So we’re stuck.”
“Looks that way,” I say, finishing my text to Jason. I try to sound a little frustrated, but honestly, I’m relieved. After everything that happened between us, walking into dinner like nothing’s wrong would’ve been worse.
We fall into silence again. But this time, it’s worse. The engine’s off, the heater’s gone quiet, and there’s nothing left but the wind outside and the soft creak of cold metal settling in.
I want to say something. Break the tension. But the words I’ve gone over in my head for weeks—the explanations, the apologies—they feel small now. Like they’d barely scratch the surface.
How do you admit you’ve been in love with someone for years? That you pushed him away because you were scared of what it meant? Because the feelings were too much—and you didn’t know how to live with them?
Gigi and I had it all mapped out. After months of late-night conversations where she helped me sort through the wreckage, I really thought I was ready. Just last night, we stayed up for hours going over everything I wanted to say—how I’d explain the silence, the fear, the confusion. How I’d admit that dating Carol was one last desperate attempt to prove I wasn’t in love with my best friend’s little brother.
But now we’re here, and I’ve already ruined it.
Another ten minutes pass in silence. I read texts from Jason, who responds with a string of worried messages.
“Jason's freaking out,” I say, mostly to fill the silence.
Carter makes a noncommittal sound. “He always does.”
He shifts again, rubbing his arms. The temperature’s dropping fast without the heater. In twenty minutes, it’ll be freezing in here. I can already see my breath clouding the air.
“We should probably preserve our phone batteries,” Carter says, switching his to power-saving mode. “In case we need to call for help later.”
I nod and do the same. Another silence falls—this one broken only by the faint, involuntary shudder of Carter’s body. He’s trying to hide it, but he’s clearly cold. His coat is thinner than my parka, and knowing him, he’s probably just wearing one of those button-ups underneath.
“Take my jacket,” I say, already slipping an arm out of the sleeve. I always run warm. He never does.
“I’m fine,” he says quickly, too quickly.
“Carter, you’re shaking.”
“I said I’m fine,” he repeats, without much conviction. His teeth are still chattering.
“Don’t be stubborn. You’re freezing.”
“And you won’t be if you give me your coat?” he shoots back, skeptical—but his voice is quieter now, less defensive.
He’s got a point, but I can’t just sit here watching him shiver. “We could move to the back seat instead,” I say, trying to play it off like a joke. “Share body heat.”
Jesus. That came out way flirtier than I meant it to.
He gives me a deadpan look, like I’ve suggested something completely unhinged, and my face heats instantly. Hopefully the dim light hides it.
