Page 90 of One Big Little Secret

“I’m sure we don’t need an ER visit. It was a pretty slow impact, just scarier than it looked. We’re good.”

“You crashed. Your ride’s banged up. You don’t have to keep telling me you’re fine.” His anger feels sharp, lashing my feelings raw until they start climbing up my throat again.

I turn away so he doesn’t see the way my mouth turns down. My nose stings.

Deep breaths, deep breaths.

Get a grip. You’re overreacting. It was a minor accident, and he’s worried about you. Arlo’s fine. You’re fine.Everything’s fine.

Patton looks at the hood and sees the oil dripping on the snow, frowning the entire time.

“When the tow truck shows up, I’ll have it sent to the shop I use. They do excellent body work. If it’s salvageable, it shouldn’t take more than a couple days.”

“Honestly, dude. This is— You’re going to have to tell me how much it costs. I’ll call my insurance tomorrow.”

I want to scream that he doesn’t have to do this, but I know it’ll slide off him like the melting snow. There’s no changing this man’s mind once it’s made up.

“Screw the insurance. Don’t worry about the damn cost until you’re warm, fed, and you’ve gotten some sleep,” he growls.

For a second, I squint, wondering who I’m seeing.

Thick snow dusts his hair and shoulders, and the wintry shadows all around us bring out the blue witchfire of his eyes. It’s a strange sight, seeing him in jeans that are so stark against the winter anti-wonderland.

This is wrong on every level. But I don’t know how to begin to understand it.

Arlo bangs on the window, pressing his nose against the glass.

I jump.

“Listen to the boy, he wants to get moving,” Patton says. “Your car will be fine, I promise. I work with good people.”

What else can I do tonight but trust him?

So I happily throw myself into the warm leather seat of his car as he puts the heater on full blast. I hold my hands to the vent until the tips of my fingers burn delightfully.

“The weather forecast didn’t call for anything this ugly,” I say lamely, the guilt surging up from my stomach.

Fair warning or not, I should have been better prepared.

I should have reacted faster instead of panicking.

I should have taken us on the highway instead of these little side streets where holes in city services become pits that will swallow you up.

Arlo deserved better from me tonight, too, and I’m sad that I’m failing as a mom.

My nails dig into my palm.

“I don’t think anyone saw this coming. Where to next?” Patton says. He sends me a quick glance.

“Back to my place would be great. Arlo’s hungry and it’s getting pretty late.” I wince as I remember our other problem. Food.

“I want pizza for dinner!” Arlo pipes up from the back.

For once, I can’t argue.

There’s a pie shop just a couple blocks away where they can walk the delivery over to our place instead of risking their delivery cars. So yes, I’ll order and we’ll sit on the sofa and eat and for once I won’t fuss about the cost.

“You can never go wrong with pizza. Choice of kings,” Patton says firmly.

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