Page 7 of Loud Unspoken Memories

She huffs out another frustrated breath. Why do I get the idea she does that a lot? “Fine. But I’m sure you’ll understand that I’m withholding any heartfeltthank yousuntil I’m sure you aren’t going to put me down a hole and make me rub lotion all over my skin.”

I stop walking and double over in laughter. She really is a piece of work. “You watch too much TV, Marti Carver.”

“Yeah, well, maybe you’re a bit too trusting, Dallas, uh… what’s your last name again?”

“Montana. And is there a reason I shouldn’t trust someone who clearly needed help?”

“I suppose not. It’s just, in this day and age, so many people are—” She chews the inner part of her cheek, searching for a word.

“Disingenuous?” I ask.

“Exactly.” She stares straight into my eyes. “Please don’t be one of those people. My life is literally in your hands.”

“You’re safe with me. I promise. Now, let’s pick up the pace. This snow is coming down faster than I anticipated.”

She looks through a break in the trees, up at the gray sky that is barely light enough for us to see where we’re going. Then she shuffles forward quickly and walks by my side instead of behind me.

My life is literally in your hands. The words repeat over and over in my head. If she only knew how bad I am at saving those who need it, she might have taken her chances in her car.

Phoebe’s and DJ’s faces flash in front of my eyes. I blink over and over. It’s just not fair that I was there to help Marti—a total stranger—and I couldn’t do a goddamn thing to save my own family.

“It’s not that much farther,” I say, walking faster. But no matter how fast I walk, I can’t seem to get away from the memories.

Chapter Four

Martina

The forest is beautiful even though I’m growing ever fearful of a coyote, wolf, or bear pouncing out from behind a tree. I’ve lived my entire life in Florida. I’ve never been in snow before. It’s almost magical. I mean, if it weren’t for the fact that my car is totaled, I’m still not with my son, and, oh yeah, Charles is dead.

I think of my son, Charlie, and wonder if he’s even capable of understanding death. Does he know his dad isn’t coming back? Or does he assume he’s just at work and at any second, he’ll bound through the door, scoop him into his arms as he always did and throw him into the air.

Thinking of the two of them together is so bittersweet now. Their relationship was never an issue, it was our marriage. Anita has been a godsend for Charles—or she was—stepping in as the perfect wife where I always seemed to fail. I’m not even jealous when I think of how she’s become one heck of a stepmom to Charlie.

I sigh, knowing Anita must be going through hell having just lost the love of her life.

Tears brim my eyes and threaten to freeze in the falling temperature. I loved Charles. He was my best friend. Even after the divorce. We were amazing friends, just shitty spouses.

“Everything okay?” Dallas says up ahead.

I walk faster, realizing I’d slowed to a crawl. I blink away the tears, hoping he’ll think they’re from the piercing cold and not because I’m somewhat of an emotional wreck. Catching up to him with my head on a swivel as I scan for predators, I ask, “What did you study at Yale?”

“Finance.”

“Impressive.”

A shrug of his shoulder tells me he doesn’t think so.

“You’re not big on words, are you, Dallas Montana?”

He scoffs at my use of his full name, and I’m not sure if that means it irritates or amuses him.

“Okay, Chatty Cathy. What did you study at FSU?”

“Graphic design.”

“So that would make you a…” His voice trails off.

“Graphic designer,” I say with all the intended sarcasm.

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