Page 44 of First Time

The liquor store was less than a mile away, which left me all of about five minutes tops to get the hell out of the house.

Rather than going upstairs to grab a bag, I got my purse and coat from the wobbly rack and the car keys off the nail beside the front door. Without a backward glance or taking the time to pull on my coat, I staggered out into the frigid air. My breath fogged with every fast exhale, and I hurried over the icy walkway of uneven bricks the best I could to the cracked driveway.

Fingers fumbling and hysterical half-laughs, half-sobs bursting from my lips, I finally got the old Chevy started and shifted it into reverse.

I backed out onto our street and turned the opposite way Stephen would have gone to the liquor store. My hands clenched the steering wheel in a white-knuckled grip, and I leaned forward to see out of the windshield fogging from my fast exhales.

A flick turned the defrost on, but it failed to work fast enough. I rubbed my forearm on the windshield, desperate to move. Faster. Take a corner. Another. Speed up. Slow down for the stop sign. Yield into traffic…

I hit the highway and lay on the gas.

Stephen tried to call, but I ignored my cell, my pulse still thrumming.

Twenty seconds later, the darkened skies opened up, drenching the road and my car. My phone rang again.

The tears fell, deep, guttural whines passed my lips, and the defrost finally did its thing, the wipers barely able to clear my windshield. I clung to the steering wheel, my left shoulder and lower back on fire.

Twice more, he attempted to call me.

I forced myself to take deep breaths and slow the car down. Calm the hysteria on the cusp of my brain. All I could think about was Chantelle.

I needed my cousin.

Once reasonably sure I had my emotions under control, I fumbled with my phone. I dialed her cell by memory.

She didn’t answer, and I hit “end.”

The phone rang in my hand. A glance showed Stephen’s name. I waited for the ringing to stop, then tried Chantelle again.

More tears slid down my cheeks as my call went to voicemail.

I had been to her condo just the two nights and couldn’t for the life of me navigate my way through downtown Boston to find it again. I wasn’t about to show up at her kink club, either.

The memory of the scribbled address on the back of Daniel’s business card burned in my brain. I had memorized his personal information on the card before throwing it in the trash two hours after he’d given it to me a few weeks earlier.

Any time, he had said.

Brow furrowed and inner lip between my teeth, I ignored Stephen’s latest attempt to reach me. Once my cell went silent, I dialed Daniel.

“Hello?” He greeted, his deep voice swept over me, and sobs erupted again, prohibiting me from answering. “Becky?”

“Yes,” I somehow managed, slowing down and moving to the far-right lane.

“Are you okay?”

“N-No,” I wailed.

“What’s wrong? Where are you?” Panic bled through his voice, worsening my misery. He cared. Chantelle hadn’t lied. The big, soft giant’s emotions surfaced past his seemingly stoic nature for a woman he hardly knew.

My breath caught as intense longing to be near him, to feel his strength, swept through me.

“Stephen?” he asked.

“He’s...” I tried to get hold of myself but failed miserably as Stephen himself once more attempted to call me.

“Everything is going to be alright, Becky.” Daniel sounded calmer, and I nodded even though he couldn’t see me. “Are you driving?”

“Yes,” I whispered through my tears.

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