Page 10 of All That History
From the expression on her face, Flynn’s mom wasn’t quite so convinced that it didn’t all count as the sky falling.Still, she was at least quiet again.
My stomach sank, as I saw his stare land on me.“Oli will go rescue him, won’t you, son.”
It was, I thought, as I chewed back my groan, the sort of thing which is phrased as a question, and yet you absolutely cannot treat as one.“No, I won’t go pick up your son, whose car has broken down” being the sort of statement that requires further explanation, and “because he reminds me of everything I’m missing out on in life” being the kind of further explanation that demands, well, even further explanation.
I set down my fork, casting a forlorn look at the dinner I’d hardly made any headway into, and pushed back my chair.“Whereabouts is he?”
Flynn’s mom thrust her phone out at me, screen glowing to show a vastly-enlarged font.Still, that made it easier to see the address of a junction about an hour’s drive away.It was not, some small part of my brain noted, the direction you’d be going - or even the road you’d be using - if you were headed back to your exciting life in the city.
“Tell him I’m on my way,” I told her, and went to get my coat.
Chapter Four
It was, as my fatherliked to say, fine weather for ducks.
Sheets of rain, hitting the windshield like tossed buckets.The wipers slammed from side to side, barely clearing a gap for me to peer through before the road ahead smeared once more.Occasionally, the speed limit signs would mock me with their 55 miles-per-hour promise; I could do barely half that.
Plenty of time, then, to curse Flynn, and his annoying visit, and his stupid fancy SUV.And then, when the fires of my frustration had smoldered down to embers, to wonder just why my former neighbor had found his way out into what counted as the middle of nowhere.
My brain kept coming back to “ill-advised hookup,” which felt potentially unfair but also entirely possible.I had no idea whether Flynn was in a relationship back home or, assuming the answer to that was yes, if that was monogamous or otherwise.Or, perhaps, he was single, and horny, and simply couldn’t wait.I could commiserate, even if I felt like his prospects out here would be fairly questionable.
It wasn’t, after all, like I’d not expanded my search radius in the hope of spotting someone slightly more appealing.If you wanted middle-aged DL guys cheating on their wives, you weren’t quite spoiled for choice, but you at least had choices.If you were sticking to your guns, and holding out for someone in their twenties and not clearly just fishing for free nudes, that was rarer than hen’s teeth.
Imagining Flynn making an hour-long trek out, in order to have hurried sex in a barn with some closeted farmer, left me scratching my head.Or it would’ve, had I dared take either hand off the wheel.
The map on my phone, clamped to the dashboard, told me I was basically at the junction Flynn had mentioned to his mom.Some dolefully blinking red lights were present, but no sign of his flashy - but apparently flaky - car.Cursing under my breath, I slowly nosed across the intersection and set down the opposite road.
A couple minutes later I was about ready to turn around.Only putting it off, because the thought of accidentally reversing too far into some muddy ditch and getting stuck was an unpleasant one.And then the glimmer of a reflector caught my eye, about forty feet further along.
The SUV was pitch black, inside and out, when I crawled alongside it.Stopping, I peered through my water-swept window, trying to see movement.
Then jerked back in surprise, at the pale face which suddenly pressed against the other window.
Heart hammering, and annoyed at myself for being so ridiculously skittish, I wound down the glass.Expecting Flynn to do the same, but instead he pushed open the door.
“O-Oli?”
