“Barely.”
Arlo growls, “Do you ever listen to anyone?”
I blink. “What?”
He clenches his jaw.
“How’d you get down the mountain?” I ask Finn.
“Very slowly,” she says. She holds my eyes, and the way she looks at me makes me forget I could’ve died out there. Her eyes are bleary, and mine must be too. Neither of us got more than two hours of sleep.
“I called around, and your mother’s with Mitchell.” Arlo spins his chair away. “Her latest conquest.”
Finn shakes her head at me. Sneaking up behind Arlo, I take the handles of his chair and sing in his ear. “You love Carly.”
He flaps a hand at me.
“You want to marry her.”
He pivots. “I don’t love her, and I pity any guy who does. She’s a selfish, thoughtless bitch who only ever thinks of herself and what’s in it for her. Or haven’t you figured that out yet?”
I flinch.
Arlo snarls, “Get out of my way.”
I step aside to let him pass. He slams out the swinging doors into the dining room.
Finn mimes wrenching out a heart from her chest and breaking it in two.
Really. He’s hurting bad.
It’s so awful out, I can’t imagine we’ll stay open long. I’m wrong. Throughout the morning we get dozens of people in the restaurant. “Fools,” Arlo mutters under his breath every time the bell tinkles. The rain beats on the roof, and Finn and I have to keep emptying buckets and tubs from the leaks in the ceiling. The forecaster on the radio reports flash floods and closed roads, accidents everywhere. “A rollover accident near Heeney has left one person dead,” I hear.
Arlo says, “Dutch lives in Heeney.”
“Oh my God. Do you know his number?” He hasn’t been in the last couple of days, and I’ve been worried about him. “When was the last time you talked to him?”
Arlo rubs his chin. “Don’t remember.” He goes over to the phone.
I tell Finn, “I’m afraid to drive home. Will you drive the Mercedes?”
“I have my bike.”
“Can’t you leave it?”
“My Concours? And by the way, why did you lie about the money being yours?”
“What does it matter? You’re paying it back, right?”
Arlo hangs up. “He’s not answering. I’ll go over there if the road’s open. Bring your motorcycle in overnight,” he orders Finn, like he overheard our conversation—on purpose.
“Really?” Finn says.
“No, not really. I’m a heartless bastard who’s driving you away, according to your guardian angel. Bring it in, goddammit. Unless you’re scared I’m going to go joyriding, which I just might.”
Finn zips into her rain gear and slogs out for the bike. When Arlo turns away, I give him a hug around the neck. “Thank you. Do you need help getting into your van?”
He spins. “Do I look like I need help?”
“Shut up,” I say.
His eyes shoot poison arrows at me.
“It’s treacherous out there, and I don’t want you to get stuck because you’re so stubborn that you’d sit outside and drown before asking anyone to come and help you.”
Arlo’s eyes mellow but don’t let loose of mine. He says, “You’re not Carly’s girl.”
“No. I’m me.”
He reaches out and takes my hand, pulls me closer to him. In this confidential tone, he says, “Jason wasn’t the only one cheating.”
As I’m trying to process that, Arlo adds, “Since you worked today, you’ll need to cut your hours later.”
Damn. Nothing gets by him.
Finn crashes in and wedges her motorcycle between the back wall and the storage cabinets, and I feel Arlo watching me watch her. He pulls me down closer to his mouth and whispers, “Word of advice: Don’t get attached to a moving object.”
It takes three tries for Finn to back out of the deep ruts I carved on my way in. Highway 102 has heavy traffic, like the big rigs are using it instead of the interstate.
I’m thinking about everything Arlo told me, trying to piece together the whole puzzle. Of course. “Carly was having an affair with Arlo while she was married to Jason.”
Finn goes, “You finally figured that out?”
I slap her arm. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
She says, “I don’t spread gossip or rumors.”
Unless she’s coerced. What else does she know?
She concentrates on the road, her hands clenched tightly around the steering wheel. Her jaw is set, and she seems worried.
“What?” I ask.
“The rain,” she says. “I’ve never seen it like this. It isn’t natural. I have a feeling something bad’s going to happen.”
The edge in her voice sends shivers up my spine.
At the end of Carly’s driveway, we pull in by the mailbox and stop.
I gasp. A river courses down the access road, obliterating it completely. “How do we get to the house?” I ask Finn.
“I don’t know. Is Carly up there? She’ll never get down.”
Finn’s concern for Carly stabs me with a pang of jealousy. Ridiculous. I fish out my cell from my bag. Twelve missed calls.
Carly.
Carly.
All of them from Carly.
She answers on the first ring. “Where the hell have you been? I’ve been calling you all morning.”
Hello to you too. “I was at work.”
“I know you took your phone because it’s not here.”
What’d she do, ransack my room?
“I didn’t hear it ring,” I say.
“I got you that phone so we could stay in touch. Where are you now, Alyssa? Answer me.”
God, let me get a word in. “I’m at the bottom of the hill. The road’s flooded.”
“Don’t you think I know that? Why do you think I was calling? All the roads are washing out. There’s a twelve-car pile-up on I-70, and traffic is being diverted. You shouldn’t be out driving at all.”
“I’m not, actually.” I glance over at Finn. “Finn’s here. We’re wondering how to get to the house.”
“You’re not on her motorcycle, are you?”
“Of course not. We’re in the Mercedes.”
Carly expels an irritated breath. “You can’t drive up.”
“I know that.”
“You can’t walk; it’s too muddy. And if you try to drive, you’ll get stuck. Let me think.” There’s a prolonged silence.
“She’s thinking.” I roll my eyes at Finn.
Finn replies, “With your four-wheel drive, we might be able to make it to my place. It’s more rocks than mud.”
Carly comes back on. “They shut down I-70 in both directions. Let me call Mitchell and see where they’re sending the stranded motorists. Stay there. I’ll call you right back.” She hangs up.
I tell Finn, “She’s finding out where the stranded motorists are being sent.”
My phone rings. “The Red Cross is setting up a temporary shelter at the rec center in Dillon,” Carly says. “Do you know where that is? Ask Finn if she knows where the new rec center is.”
I ask Finn. She doesn’t.
Carly says, “Use the GPS.”
Like I know how. “What are you going to do?”
“Wait it out,” Carly says. “This rain can’t last forever. Call me as soon as you get to the rec center. I mean it, Alyssa.”
Her concern seems sincere. “I will.”
“What’d she say?” Finn asks as I disconnect.
“She says we should go to your place until the rain stops.”
We get torrential downpours in Virginia Beach, especially if a tropical storm off the Atlantic moves through, but they don’t last this long. Finn drives slowly, swerving toward the shoulder every time a semi rumbles past, yet we still get cascaded with water. The fwap, fwap, fwap of the wipers is calming, or maybe it’s the fact that Finn’s here beside me. “What other p
laces have you lived?” I ask her.
“I lose count. Why?”
“I’m just trying to make conversation, okay? Do you ever let anybody in?”
She hesitates. “Nobody wants in.”
“Until now,” I say.
We’re quiet for a minute.
“This bad feeling you have. Do you get them often? Do you have, like, a sixth sense?”
She frowns at me.
“Well, you might. You never know.”
“I do see dead people. Dead drunk.”
I slap her arm. “Quit it.”
We drive on in more comfortable silence. “This oil rigger gave me a lift once,” she says out of the blue, “and it was raining like this. The guy was going too fast, hydroplaning, and we slid off the road into a ditch. The rig rolled and caught fire.”
“Oh my God. Seriously?”
“If the tanker hadn’t been empty, we would’ve been toast.”
I shake my head. “My worst fear is burning alive. After being eaten alive by bugs and bats.”
That makes Finn smile a little.
“Do you believe in destiny?” I ask her.
Finn blinks over at me. “Not really.”
Sarah was a big believer in destiny. She said if she hadn’t gotten lost that first day of school, she never would’ve found me, the love of her life. That’s what she used to call me. If Ben wasn’t my friend, they never would’ve met. If Dad hadn’t disowned me, I’d never have ended up in Majestic. If Finn had been fried alive…
“What do you believe in?” I ask her. Say trust. Say truth.
“Reality,” Finn answers. “Creating your destiny. Owning it.”
Can you create destiny? “Is that why you up and leave? Drift?”
She doesn’t respond. She clicks on the turn signal and shifts into four-wheel drive. We start up the steep incline to her cabin, and Finn downshifts and then floors the gas pedal to grind through the mud and try to catch anything solid beneath the tires. We bounce violently over boulders and scrape metal on rock as the car bottoms out. Finn doesn’t slow down. I grip the seat like I’m on the bow of a rocking boat, and we make steady progress until, at last, I spot the cabins. “Yay!”
She parks as close to the front door as possible. We open our car doors in unison, and rain from the cabin roof splats my head and runs down my neck. Finn sloshes around the front of the Mercedes.
As soon as she opens the door, Boner jumps on her, and she crouches down to lift him up. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, buddy,” she murmurs to him, nuzzling him close. “You’re okay.”
The cabin is freezing. Finn says, “I’ll go get wood from the shed. Be right back.” She hands me Boner.
I see that her unzipped duffel in the bedroom is half full. She can’t leave. I have to keep her here. I set Boner down on the bed and overturn her duffel, spilling the contents onto the floor.
Finn enters with an armload of split logs. “I’ll build a fire if you’ll feed Boner.” She heads out again.
I find a can of Pedigree in the cupboard and a manual can opener, which requires a mechanical engineer to operate. Finn returns with a second load of wood. She’s soaked. While I’m working the opener, I’m thinking I’d like to dry Finn off. I’d love to unplait her braid to see how long her hair is. On her knees at the hearth, she blows on a wad of lit newspaper to get the kindling started. It crackles and pops. Boner whines, and I set his food on the floor.
Finn’s got the fire roaring, and she sits on the furry rug, hugging her knees. I lower myself next to her, and a shudder of cold races through me.
Finn pulls a blanket off the couch and drapes it across both our shoulders.
The fire is mesmerizing. Finn’s face is illuminated, and her dark eyes glimmer like stars. “You’re so brave,” I tell her. “To just leave home and make it on your own. I could never do that.”
She looks at me. “Sure you could. You did. We all do whatever we have to do to survive.”
I can’t look away from her. The gaze between us becomes intense, and then Finn breaks it off. “You’re braver than me.” She picks at a frayed corner of the blanket. Boner waddles up between us, and Finn straightens her legs, pulling him into her lap.
“How?”
“You know who you are. What you want.”
“And you don’t?”
She stares into the fire. She scratches Boner’s ears. It’s warm now, and I let the blanket fall off my shoulders. Reaching across, I run my open hand down the length of her braid and she closes her eyes.
My phone rings in my bag, but I ignore it. “What are you running from?”
Finn opens her eyes and turns to me. “Who says I’m running from anything?”
“Know what I think? I think you’re running from your truth.” I think, Or trying to find it.
She buries her face in Boner’s fur. With both hands, I reach over and undo her braid. Her hair is kinky where it was wound together, and I rake my fingers through it. So soft. Finn sets Boner aside, takes my hands in hers and kisses my palms. She pulls me in close to kiss me. Sweet and tender. It’s impossible to fight the longing, even if I wanted to. I wrap my arms around her. We kiss, and I feel the rush from my head to the tips of my toes. Finn breaks off the kiss to remove her wet shoes. I pull off my boots, and we resume where we left off. The heat of her internal fire radiates through me, and all my pleasure zones ignite. We lie back on the rug and kiss and touch, and my promise never to love again melts away. There’s only us and the fire and the heat.
Boner barks, jerking me awake. Finn’s gone. My last memory is the two of us under the blanket, naked, intertwined on the floor. I sit up, pulling the blanket up with me. “Finn?”
She appears in the bedroom doorway. She’s dressed and carrying her repacked duffel. “I have to go now. Will you take me to Arlo’s to get my bike? Will you find Boner a home?”
“No,” I say automatically.
“Please,” she pleads.
I can’t believe this. “You used me. You played me.”
“No. Alyssa…”
I drop the blanket and crawl on my hands and knees to gather all my clothes, and Finn is there, but I push her away. “I hate you!” I shimmy into my shorts and shirt. I can only find one boot. Fuck it. I snatch Boner off the couch and head for the door.
“Alyssa—”
“Shut up!”
A keening wail of pain lodges in my throat as rain pounds the windshield. It didn’t mean a thing to her. I don’t mean a thing. The Mercedes tips to the left, and I rev the motor so hard it screeches. Then the tires catch, and the car vaults over an embankment, landing hard and bouncing my hands off the wheel. I clutch it harder.
Beside me, Boner whines. “It’s okay,” I tell him. “She didn’t want you either.”
I see a light in my mirror, like a flashlight beam, and I floor the gas pedal. I feel the car lifting, sliding, slipping, and I’m thrown from side to side within the confines of my seat belt.
I can’t—won’t—let her catch me. The Mercedes jerks forward and smashes into a solid object, and all I see is window and ceiling, rain, black, rocks, blur. I’m revolving, and the car is somersaulting down the embankment. It rolls and hits hard, my shoulder crunching against the window.
The spinning stops suddenly. The only sound is the beating rain and my rasping breath. I open my eyes.
“Boner?”
He’s in my lap, and I’m clutching him hard. He’s panting.
I’m alive. We’re both alive. The windshield is fractured into a mosaic of glass, the passenger door crushed in. The top is jagged metal, inches away from my head. A light through my window blinds me, and Finn yells, shouts my name, and jiggles the door handle.
Go away, the voice echoes in my head. Just go.
Pounding. A blurry figure with a metal tool is whacking at the door, which busts loose and flies open. Hands reach in for me. I try to lean away but can’t, because my seat belt has me strapped in.
“Are you all righ
t? Oh God.” Finn’s feeling me all over for cuts or missing limbs, broken bones, and all I feel is numb. “Alyssa.” Her face is close to mine. “Can you see me?” She holds my face between her hands. “Can you hear me?”
She unbuckles my seat belt, and this pain rips down my neck and arm. Do I scream? I feel myself falling, Finn’s arms winding around me, pulling me out of the car. The ground whirls, recedes, and I fall off the edge of the world.
Chapter
23
I have to hurl. When I sit up, someone sticks a plastic container under my face to catch the vomit. It’s Barbara.
I’m in the ER. Bells ping and buzzers go off. “How are you feeling?” Barbara asks.
My stomach heaves again.
She smooths my hair, and I lie back down. Hot tears burn my eyes. “Finn said you were in an accident. Do you want to tell me about it?”
I shake my head no, and my brain implodes. She says, “You have a dislocated shoulder, but no broken bones, thank goodness. The doctor should be in soon. I know how much it hurts right now. Try to relax.”
She can’t possibly know.
“Don’t move. Deep breaths.” She injects something in my IV, and immediately my muscles go limp. The pain ebbs. I’m about to close my eyes, when I hear a familiar voice. “Barbara?”
Barbara pulls back the curtain. “We’re here, Carly.”
Carly crosses the threshold and stops.
“It’s only a dislocation. She’ll be fine.”
Carly looks as green as I feel. I wish she’d come closer and hold my hand or hug me and tell me everything’s going to be fine. It’s a dream; tell me that.
She doesn’t cross the threshold, just stands there like all the medical equipment makes her nauseated. The doctor shows up to reset my shoulder, and Carly leaves. I want to call to her, Don’t go.
The doctor asks, “Were you wearing your seat belt?”
“I always do.”
“It saved your life,” he says.
Dad will be happy to know his incessant nagging paid off.
While the doctor’s talking, he does something to my arm, and I feel a pop, then a pain so intense I must pass out. When I regain consciousness, my arm’s in a sling.
Barbara’s there. She says, “Can you sit up, Alyssa?” With her help, I swing my legs over the side and raise my torso. Dizzy. She steadies me. “Your arm’s going to hurt for a while. Your chest too, from the seat belt. Let me know if it gets worse or if you start feeling pain here or here.” She pokes me in the stomach and ribs. “Call me right away if there are any changes.”
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