Page 48 of Survive the Night

Right there.

Inches from the door, his hand raised in a knock that never happens.

Charlie shrinks back, startled. A replay of the blond woman in the bathroom when she found Charlie in the stall.

“A woman outside said I should check on you. She said you’re shit-faced.” Josh pauses, thrusting his hands deep into his pockets. “So I have to ask. Are you, um, shit-faced?”

Charlie shakes her head, wishing she were. That, at least, would explain what’s happening inside her head. But instead of drunk, she feels unmoored. Caught on a tide dragging her out to sea, even though she’s paddling as hard as she can toward shore.

“It was just a misunderstanding,” she says.

Josh responds with a curious head tilt. “A movie misunderstanding?”

“Of course.”

They step outside, and Charlie sees that it’s started snowingagain. More flurries. As wispy as dust. Josh stops to catch one on his tongue, which is how Charlie knows the snow is real and not just her own personal snow globe à laCitizen Kane.

The fact that she’s not even capable of discerning the weather on her own tells Charlie she’s made the right decision. Yes, she has her suspicions about Josh, but they fade with each step taken toward the parking lot. He’s still catching snowflakes, for God’s sake, his tongue hanging out like a dog’s. That’s not something killers do. Kids do that.Nicepeople do that.

And Charlie’s leaning into the idea that Josh could be nice, once you see past the lies he told her. Lies that he clearly regrets. Because before they climb back into the Grand Am, Josh looks at Charlie across the snow-dappled roof of the car and says, “I’m really sorry, by the way. I shouldn’t have lied earlier. I should have been up front with you about everything, starting with when we met at the ride board. You have every right to not trust me.”

“I do trust you,” Charlie says, even though she doesn’t. Not implicitly. The simple truth is that right now she trusts herself less.

As for Josh’s lies, she chalks those up to loneliness and not malice. Charlie understands being lonely, having cut herself off from everyone but Robbie and Nana Norma. So she and Josh might as well be lonely together.

“We’re good, then?” Josh says.

“I guess,” Charlie says, which is about as honest an answer as she can muster.

“Then let’s go.”

Charlie gets into the car. Even if she does have lingering reservations, there are no other options. The one other car at the rest stop, an Oldsmobile idling on the far end of the parking lot, belongs to the woman Charlie encountered in the bathroom. She stands next to the car, smoking a cigarette, watching them leave.

As they pass, Charlie notices the concerned look on the woman’s face, appearing and receding in a plume of smoke. It makes herwonder what else the woman told Josh while she was still in the bathroom. Did she mention Charlie’s distrust? If not, does she now regret it? Should Charlie regret getting back into this car?

She tells herself no. That everything is fine. That she should follow the woman’s advice and have some coffee to clear her head. Then she’ll settle in for a long, uneventful trip home.

Josh apparently has other ideas.

“So what kind of movie was it?” he says. “Must have been a doozy if that woman thought you were on the sauce.”

Charlie can still picture Maddy standing before the mirror, putting on that lipstick as bright as blood. Even worse, she can still hear her voice.

You shouldn’t have abandoned me.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” she says.

“Must have been a bad one,” Josh says.

“It was.”

Charlie wants to forget all about it. And she certainly has no intention of rehashing it with Josh.

“Be honest now,” he says. “Was it really that bad? Or do you not want to tell me because you still don’t trust me?”

“I trust people I know.”

“Then get to know me.” A genial smile creeps across Josh’s face. “Maybe we really should play Twenty Questions.”

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