Page 25 of The Wrong Drive-
“There’s a town like an hour or so from here though, right?”
“I never go,” I chuckle, scraping off the remnants of dinner into Gunner’s bowl. I don’t usually feed him leftovers, but I’m sure as shit not going to be eating anymore of this.
“Why don’t you go?”
I hesitate, choosing my answer wisely. “I don’t like crowds. Or people.”
“But you’re letting me stay here.”
I set the dishes down in the sink, angling my body toward her. “I reallydidn’tlet you stay here. I just chose not to let you freeze to death. Let’s not forget how tense our first meeting was.”
Her eyes flash with what I recognize as fear. “Right.”
“Yeah, so don’t get too comfortable,” I snort, turning on the water and beginning to wash the dishes. Guilt throttles me, but I ignore it.Why am I so fucked up?
“Noted.” Emersyn takes it as a joke, laughing. She grabs a towel and dries the dishes as I wash them, putting them up in their places. Once we’re finished, Emersyn escapes to the bedroom, returning with a silver laptop tucked under her arm.
“I don’t have internet,” I say flatly.
She waves me off. “I know, my computer didn’t pick up any Wi-Fi. But I was thinking we could listen to music? You said you haven’t listened in years, right?”
“Uh…” I hesitate, my stomach feeling knotted. “I guess.”
“Cool.” She sets the computer on the table, and I stand a few feet away, borderline nervous as to what the hell she’s going to play.
“What genre do you like?” Emersyn looks up over the top of the computer. “My guess is you’re not in the holiday mood?”
“Uh… I don’t know.” I can’t eventhinkof anything. “Why don’t you just play meyourfavorite song?”
“Hmm.” She rolls her lips and nods, her attention falling back to the computer. I watch her as she scrolls, and I start to admire the little things—the way her hair is tucked behind her right ear, the way her lips are pursed as she focuses, and the way she lights up when she finally finds something. It’s…cute.
The sound of a piano fills my ears, and I tense as the tune carries, picking up with a deep male voice. It’s not nearly as miserable as I figured it’d be, and my breaths slow as it fills the cabin.
“Do you like it?” she asks me, her brows raising with an innocent eagerness.
I nod. “Yeah, it’s not bad.”
“I bet you listen to rap or something,” Em tips her head back and laughs. It’s surreal having her in my kitchen, tapping her purple sock to the beat of the music. She’s so fucking oblivious to the danger she’s in, and maybe I can pretend like I am, too—just enough to enjoy life for an evening. “So is it rap?”
“Not really. I liked metal, but I haven’t…”Damnit, she’s going to think I’m fucking nuts.“I haven’t heard anything in years.”
She pauses. “You mean, you haven’t listened to music inyears?Or just metal?”
“Music,” I answer her, my voice barely audible over the hum of some guy singing about how shitty humankind is.
“How many years?”
I swallow my pride, forcing the honesty. “A decade probably.” I don’t like to miss my old self too much.
She gapes. “Wow. Is that how long you’ve been here?”
“Pretty much.”
“How old are you?” She blurts it out, and I try not to close off. She’s not likely to make it out of here, so who cares if she knows the truth?
“I turn forty-one in January.”
The music fades to silence as she speaks. “So, you’ve been here since you were thirty-one?”
