Page 55 of Freefall

I spend the next hour attempting to listen to the art teacher talk about an upcoming penguin-themed project and the gym teacher discussing the new volleyball net they recently put up, but I don’t hear any of it. My mind follows Nate’s order without my permission, and all I can think about are his rough words.

You’re going to be thinking about how I’m going to punish you.

Letting you come was a huge mistake.

I won’t make it again.

I have to squeeze my thighs together at that last part. Did he seriously decide to get me all squirmy and bothered in an elementary school?

Relief washes over me by the time the last presentation is over. I can finally go home and pretend this night never happened, but I only make it halfway across the parking lot before I hear footsteps behind me.

Of course.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

I don’t bother turning around until I reach the Jeep.

“Home, Nate.” I dig around in my purse for my keys. “I’m officially done with this night.”

“Are you?”

His voice is closer now. I glance over my shoulder to find him standing a few feet away.

“Did you forget our conversation?”

I find my keys and slide the one to the Jeep into the driver’s door

“I didn’t forget. I chose to ignore it.”

He looks at the Jeep, and the corners of his mouth flatten. “Harper.”

“What?”

His eyes sweep over the faded paint, the dent in the passenger side door, the rust creeping around the wheels. “Are you seriously driving our daughter around in this thing?”

I sigh. “It’s perfectly safe.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“It passed its inspection. It gets us where we need to go.”

His jaw clenches, the faint shadow of stubble catching the glow of the parking lot lights. Then, without another word, he snatches the keys from my fingers.

“Nate!”

“Get in my car, Harper.”

I hold out my hand. “Give them back.”

“No.”

Gunmetal irises lock onto mine, and for one reckless second, I consider making a scene in the middle of the school parking lot. Instead, I let out a frustrated breath and stalk past him toward his white Range Rover.

He opens the passenger door before I can reach the handle, and I slide in. “Where are we going?”

“You’ll see.”

I don’t have to wait long. Five silent, tension-soaked minutes later, Nate turns off onto a narrow dirt road.