Page 4 of Holiday Do Us Part

I sigh, remembering how lovely he looked naked, lying on my bed with his mysterious smile.

And then I remember what an asshole he is.

He may have been the hottest guy on this planet, but he was a liar and a cheat. The only reason I never wrote a bad review about the voodoo doll was because he did kind of disappear. Not that I killed him. I don’t think. That’s still to be determined. But one day, he just stopped calling. Stopped trying to get me to listen to his excuses. And as much as I wanted him to fall off the face of the earth, the second he sorta did, it just made me worse off.

But days turned into weeks, then months, and eventually, Easton Cruz was a part of my past. I’d moved on. Started to date again and rebuild what he had broken. And I’ve been a ray of sunshine ever since.

“Maybe they’re the problem,” I suggest out loud since I’m the only one in the vehicle or anywhere else because everyone has taken Grant’s advice. What’s done is done. I agreed to this stupid life timeout. I just need to make the best of it. Get to the cabin, crack open a bottle of wine, light a fire, and watch the beautiful snowflakes fall. It will be peaceful and quiet. . . and I’ll probably want to blow my brains out because Ihate the quiet!

“Ugh!” That’s it. Hate texts wait for no one. I grab my phone, but it slips between the seats. “Dammit,” I grunt, trying to keep my eye on however much of the road I can see, and bend to grab my phone. “Come on.” It’s at the tip of my fingers. I shimmy it between my thumb and index finger when I hit a patch of ice. My tires skid, and I grip the steering as I slide across the road.

My car does an impressive three-sixty spin, once, twice, three times—Jesus, there’s a reason I don’t do rollercoasters—until I bash into a large snowbank. It takes me a minute to gather myself. I’m in one piece, so that’s good. I turn the ignition, but my car doesn’t start. “Oh, don’t you dare.” I turn it again but nothing.

“Why, why,why?” I yell. I kick my feet and slap my steering wheel. When I gather a sliver of normalcy, I go for my phone and click on my roadside app, realizing I have no service. Waving my hand in all directions, I wait for a bar to appear. “Come on, baby. Give me one. . .” When that doesn’t work, I try to roll down my window, but nothing happens since the car is off. “This seriously cannotbe happening to me right now.” I throw myself back in my seat. What the hell do I do now?

The directions show the cabin’s only a mile away. But I amnotwalking a mile in a blizzard. Someone will drive by. They’ll see my car and help me. I just have to wait.

Only a few minutes pass when I start to see my breath. My windows are frosting over, and I decide that my only two options are to freeze to death in my car or out there attempting to walk a mile through all this.

“Tory and Ashley, you two are dead to me!” I curse my best friends. I gather my purse, laptop bag, and a bottle of wine from my bag of groceries. A gust of wind slaps my face when I open my car door. I quickly shut it. “Yep. I’ll just freeze in here. There’s no way I’ll make it. I’m too short. Not enough meat on my bones to keep me warm. And I have zero survival skills.”

But I also know that if I die here, I won’t be able to make it home and murder the two people who put me in this predicament. Ifthatdoesn’t give me the drive to succeed, I don’t know what else will. I grab my thick scarf and slip on two sweaters under my winter coat. A mile isn’t that far. I was able to run it in under nine minutes in high school. I can walk it in a snowstorm just as quickly. Taking one last look at my directions, I memorize the streets. Left on Tucker Trail. Over the bridge, take a left on Weber Way. The cabin should be just over the bend. I got this. Tucking my phone into my jacket pocket, I wish myself luck and venture into the storm.

By the time I hit the bend, I can’t feel my body and probably resemble the abominable snowman. I’ve debated giving up over a dozen times. Popping that wine bottle and drinking until I turn into an icicle. Good thing my rage keeps me going. When I think my legs are about to snap off, the cabin comes into view. Smoke pours from the chimney, and lights shine from the windows.

“Oh, thank God,” I praise, pushing my legs to walk faster. The second I get inside, I’m going to strip naked and soak in the heat from the fire. I cry out in relief when I hit the porch. My thighs burn with each step I take, and I make it to the door, reaching for my phone to get the code for the lockbox. I dig into my pocket. My now empty pocket. “No. . .” I search them thoroughly, but they’re both empty. Maybe I put it in a different pocket. It’s possible. My brain is kind of frozen. I unzip my jacket and search my inner pockets, but nothing. “You have to be kidding me!” I yell. Seriously, this day cannot get any worse.

The door to the cabin suddenly opens. Startling, I jump back. Oh, thank God, the owner is still here. “Oh my god, thank you, my car—Thefuck?”

“Cal?” Okay, maybe I did die on the walk, and now I’m having some out-of-body experience, wandering between realms because. . . no. “What are you doing here?” He looks at me, then behind me, then back at me. “Did you walk here in the blizzard?”

The fury thaws out my brain, and when I realize the situation I’m in, I’m still may half frozen, but I’m also fucking steaming. “I’m going to KILL THEM!” I scream at the top of my lungs, twist on my heels, and stomp back down the steps.

“Callie, wait.”

I donotwait. I trek back through the snow. “Dead. So fucking dead.”

“Callie, stop. It’s a fucking blizzard out here.”

“A measly blizzard isn’t going to stop me,” I say, my teeth chattering.

“Jesus, just stop.”

“NO! Go away, you nuisance.” How could they do this to me? Angry tears begin to fall, only to freeze on my cheeks. I continue to lift my legs over the pile of snow, but each step becomes heavier. I lift my right leg and my left cramps. I trip, falling forward.

“Hey, I got you,” Easton says, his arms hooking around my waist.

“Let me go! This was a misunderstanding. I have people to kill.”

“You can go on your murder spree once you get warm. Come on.” He carries me back up the steps into the warm and cozy cabin. He sets me down slowly, allowing me to test whether my legs work.

“I’m fine,” I snap and push him away.

“Sure, whatever.” He puts his hands up and allows me to gather my bearings.

“If I can just use your cell phone, I’ll be out of your hair.”

“Don’t have a cell.”

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