Page 31 of The Wrong Drive

He could’ve dug me out with that… He could’ve let me go.

I squeeze my eyes shut as fresh tears spill down my cheeks, my nose and cheeks burning. Maybe the blizzard prevented him from letting me go, but now, there’s a murder. I’m a witness.

I’m never making it out of here.

Resting my forehead against my wet knees, I let the sobs break free from my chest. I heard once that letting yourself cry is sometimes a relief. Well, right now, it doesn’t feel like one to me. It only seems to emphasize theshittycards I’ve been dealt. But still, I let myself cry so hard I can’t breathe.

Until I hear the doorknob of the front door.

Then, I quiet myself, shutting down whatever feelings are beneath the surface. I don’t want Turner to know a damn thing I feel. Ever again. Healmosthad me. Healmostgot invited inside my walls to know me.

But now, I’m locking myself away.

And I don’t care if it gets me killed.

Chapter 13

Turner

Buryinga body in frozen ground is a fucking task. I don’t mark the guy’s grave when I’m finished. He doesn’t deserve it. I heard the way he spoke to Emersyn, and the way he went after my dog. Onmyproperty. Sure, it was the heat of the moment. Sure, I was trying to kill her five minutes prior in a blackout. But still. He had to go—and the blood spilled doesn’t really bother me. Not so long as I can justify it.

“Looks like it’ll be Christmas before the east sides of the county get cleared,”the voice on the radio spits.“Next round of snow is already here.”

I turn off the radio and leave it in the barn with the Jeep. I know I’ll have to break the vehicle down and get rid of it. Or maybe drive it into the river when the freeze clears in the Spring. I’ll figure it out. But not tonight. I need to get inside and check on Emersyn. She’s pissed at me. Rightfully so, I suppose.

But at least she’s not dead. She should be thankful for that. Maybe.

I make the journey back to the cabin just as the snow starts to fall again. I sigh, knowing that if we get another few feet of snow, things are going to be even more complicated—and that’s moretime in enclosed spaces. I push away the thought as I open the front door, spotting Emersyn by the fire, her head down.

She’s still in her parka and drenched jeans. My chest tightens at the sight. It’s a lot worse than I expected. For some reason, I didn’t think about the repercussions of killing her boyfriend. Er, ex-boyfriend. Whatever he was. He thought he was doing her a favor by rescuing her. But it was his fucking duty. He shouldn’t have complained about it, called her a whore, or tried to kill my fucking dog—my only lifeline.

“You need to get out of those wet clothes,” I say finally as I slide out of my snow pants and parka. I expect her to rattle off some sort of snarky reply.

But she doesn’t. She acts like she doesn’t even hear me.

“Isaid,you need to get out of those clothes and get some sleep.”

Emersyn lifts her head but doesn’t look at me. Her eyes stay focused on the flames in front of her as she slides out of the parka. She then slowly rises to her feet, her coat in her arms. I walk to her, and she remains unmoved as I take it from her arms.

“I’ll hang this up for you.”

Nothingin response.

Emersyn turns on her heels and heads down the hallway, her jeans sticking to her as she slips away into the darkness.

“Goodnight,” I call after her, my stomach swirling.

Maybe I should’ve killed her.

Because this fucking feeling I have now, iskillingme.

Four blizzard days pass.Four.Emersyn won’t look me in the face. She won’t utter awordto me. She went from talking to fill the silence to forcing me to drown in it. She eats granola barsand stays in the bedroom. I only know she’s here by the fucking lump in the bed when I pass through to piss or shower.

And I’m not okay with this arrangement.

I tried to give her space, but tonight, I’m done with it. She’s either going to talk to me, or she’s going to fucking die at my dinner table. She willnotbe a fucking ghost in my house.

I set dinner, another shit casserole, on the table, and then decide toforceher to sit at my fucking table. I rap my fist on the bedroom door. “Dinner.”

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