Page 174 of Hate Mates

“Drive safe, Son. I’ll call you if anything changes.”

Another judder, this one worse, as the line cuts off, Lochlan’s attention isn’t on the road. It’s two hours away in a hospital bed where his brother lies.

“Are you okay?” I sniffle, sitting forward enough to see the pain on his face.

“I can’t talk right now.” His voice is almost silent, proving that statement.

The speed of the vehicle increases as his foot gets heavier on the gas, slumping me back in my seat. I grip each side.

The speed terrifies me.

The roads are too bad for this.

SIX

Lochlan

The navigation app says we’re approaching the final hour mark. If I’d continued driving the way I had been when I got off that call, we’d be there by now, but I had to stop. Lourdez was about to puncture my seat with her perfectly manicured fingernails.

I can probably go a little faster.

Something feels off as I try, the vehicle sluggish in a way it’s never been before. The speed decreases despite my foot flattening on the gas.

“What the fuck?”

Lourdez turns from her phone. I’ve pretended not to notice, but she’s been talking to Amelie about me for half of the journey. Nothing bad, mostly about her own guilt, and that’s why I continued to look after that first message. I don’t know because it’s made me feel just as fucking awful.

“What’s wrong? Does it always judder?”

“It never judders.”

“Well, it’s done it at least twice since you picked me up.”

“Maybe you and cars just don’t mix well.”

“Mine isn’t the one playing up right now.”

“No, yours is on the side of the road somewhere back in Portland with a fucked suspension, and god only knows what else.”

“Is that what it was?”

“No idea. I’m not a mechanic. But it was lopsided.”

“Wasn’t that just because of the banking?”

We lose more speed, and her question goes unanswered.

“I’m gonna have to pull over.” I drag the steering wheel, and we roll to a stop on the side of the road.

“I guess you don’t know what’s wrong with this one?”

“Not a fucking clue.” I punch the steering wheel, my anger getting the best of me, not wanting to waste minutes on the side of the road.

Lourdez jumps at the sound.

I run a hand through my hair because I don’t have time for this shit. My brother could have hours left, and if that’s the case, I want to spend every fucking one of them at his side.

I open the door, ready to step out and look underneath for a problem that I hope I won’t fucking find because I know I won’t find anyone to fix it and fast in this weather.

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