Page 26

The dread starts to take on an edge of panic because so many things are spiraling out of control. From the moment I saw Ares at the airport in Atlanta, it’s been one thing after another. Things I can’t change, things I can’t stop. I’m supposed to be back in my home town by now, not stuck here. It’s starting to feel like we’re trapped, and we’ll never get to leave.

Ares is clearly also upset, and even Tate looks like he doesn’t know what to do. His plans were hinging on us getting a car today, all of ours were, and we didn’t have a plan B.

Before any of us can spiral too badly, Callan steps up to the desk.

He looms over it, and the guy behind it looks up at him with wide eyes. “Uh… yes?” he asks, glancing back at Ares like there’s some way he can get him to take over again and get the intimidating giant out of his face.

But Callan’s not harsh when he speaks. “We need to get out of here and back on the road today,” he says. “What’s the best way to do that?”

The clerk turns to his computer and types for a few seconds before nodding. “So, there’s a bus that will be heading north today. From what I can see here, it’s still on schedule.”

“Good,” Callan replies. “How do we get to the bus stop?”

Luckily, we can buy tickets right here at the desk, and Callan gets directions to where we need to go. We luck out again because it’s only about a mile away from where we are now. That is one nice thing about these tiny towns. It’s never very hard to get anywhere.

Callan checks the time on his phone and jerks his head toward the door. “We’ve got half an hour. Let’s go.”

He leads the way, and we step back out into the biting cold. The warmth of the rental place was a welcome reprieve from the wind and the sharp air, and it only takes a few minutes before my nose is numb and my cheeks are flushed with the cold.

The road to the bus stop doesn’t have much of a sidewalk, and the plows that came through last night just pushed all the slush and ice up onto the sides of the road, making it hard to walk with our bags. I didn’t wear shoes that were meant for trudging through winter weather, and I have to walk slower than I want to, to avoid falling on my face in the mess of it all.

I keep moving, keeping up a steady commentary in my head about how much I fucking hate this. Next Christmas I’m going somewhere warm. I don’t care how much my family bitches about it. I’m not having a repeat of this.

When I look up, Callan is looking back at me, his face composed, but his eyes stormy.

“I’m going as fast as I can,” I snap, irritated that he’s watching me struggle.

“Give me your bag,” he says, holding out a hand.

“I’m fine.”

He narrows his eyes. “You’re holding us up.”

“I’m right behind you. Just keep walking, and I’ll keep up. I’ve got it.”

Something passes across his face, and I have just enough time to recognize it as annoyance before he comes striding back to me. I tighten my hand around the handle of my bag, thinking he’s going to try to take it from me, but instead of grabbing it, he grabs me around the waist instead.

I squawk, indignant and shocked. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Getting you to the fucking bus stop before we’re late and we miss it. I know you don’t want to be here another night, and neither do I.”

He hefts me in his arms like I don’t weigh anything, not bothered by the weight of me or my bag as he walks back to the head of the line and keeps trudging on.

I can feel Ares staring a hole in the side of my head, and Tate is snickering behind him. Part of me wants to demand that Callan put me down because I don’t want to be carried by someone who clearly doesn’t like me and is just doing this because he thinks I’m a burden, but at the same time, this is so much better than walking.

Callan’s arms are warm, and his body blocks some of the wind from slicing through me, so I just set my face into a scowl and keep my mouth shut.

We make it to the bus stop with ten minutes to spare, and Callan sets me down gently. I don’t thank him because I didn’t ask him for his help, and he turns away from me like he couldn’t give a fuck one way or another.

When the bus pulls up, there’s a surprising number of people on it. Clearly we aren’t the only ones desperate to get out of this area and back on track. We show our tickets to the driver, who waves us on and shows us where to stow our bags.

People watch as we get situated, and I feel a prickle of unease at how public this is. There’s nothing else to do on this damn bus but people watch, and I’ve never liked to be in situations where I end up just getting stared at.

Callan and Ares sit together, and Tate pats the seat next to him with a grin. I roll my eyes but drop down to sit beside him because it’s the lesser of three evils here.

“This feels familiar,” he teases.

“It’s not going to be like on the plane,” I tell him.