Page 4 of Don’t Let Him In

Usually, her words slide off me. But this…this almost has me rearing back, ready to swing my fist into her face. I don’t. Instead, I grit my teeth and hurl myself into the family’s old Buick, tossing the garbage bag from my shoulder into the passenger seat before tearing out of the driveway. Never looking back.

Twenty minutes into the drive, my phone pings from the console. I suck in a sharp breath, queasy relief settling in my chest as I snatch it up, waiting for a response from my boyfriend, Dax.

As long as I have him, I’ll be fine. He won’t make me go back there.

No one can.

My eyes lock onto the lit screen, magnetized. I wince as the harsh light scorches them, feeding the headache already building at my temples. The sweet, cloying vanilla smell from the garbage bag beside me only makes it worse. It’s just the weather app.

A flicker of disappointment snakes through me. The screen dims in my hand. My gaze flicks back to the road.

Taking a sharp left, I ease toward the trail Dax has been working on out in the woods, not open yet for the season.

I bite down on my bottom lip, my gaze flicking back to the screen, wrist braced against the edge of the wheel as I consider calling him.

Surely he’s still out there. He’s always working this late.

Swiping past the weather alert, I pull up his name and hit call before I can stop myself. The ringing fills the car, my arms tensing, fingers twitching.

He should’ve answered by now. He always does.

When I look up, a deer bursts from the trees ahead and into the road.

My pulse stutters—skips—drops.

I swerve. Hard. The phone flies from my hand, skidding between my legs and under the seat. My mouth opens on a clipped scream as I wrestle with the wheel, tires screeching as I veer out of my lane.

Fear surges up my throat as I brace for the collision, my foot slamming on the breaks. No, no, no. My heart drops. Eyes squeezing shut.

And before I can grasp it, I careen off the road, spiraling down a steep embankment.

I jerk forward on impact, my body tensing, head rattling from the force. My skull snaps back against the headrest as the car lurches to a stop.

I pull in a choppy breath.

A high whine fills my ears, bleeding into the phone still ringing somewhere below. For a second, they blur together until I realize it’s the same sound.

My vision clouds, the gearshift doubling in front of me. I groan again, low and sedated. “Shit⁠—”

I cringe, eyebrows pulling tight. There’s a brief hesitation, then I reach for it, a tremor lacing my hand. Sweat beads along my forehead despite the chill around me. Clenching it, I shift into reverse and dig my heel into the pedal. The engine roars, protesting, but the car doesn’t budge. I roll my neck and I try again, blowing a strand of hair out of my face.

More rumbling. More whining.

Still nothing.

“Goddamn it,” I shout, my throat raw as I slam a hand into the center of the steering wheel, making it honk. With a shaky exhale, I lean back and straighten my shoulders, my eyes darting to the dashboard clock.

One twenty-seven a.m.

I mutter under my breath, fingers cinching around the steering wheel as I try to talk myself out of a spiral.

Think.

Just then, a muffled beep sounds near my feet. My phone.

I lean forward, wincing as the seatbelt tightens around my ribs. Heat rushes to my cheeks, the pressure mounting until something in my face feels ready to crack. One hand stays locked on the wheel, while the other scrapes blindly along the floor, fingers catching on gravel and torn carpet.

“Fuck—” I grumble, my fingers stretching blindly toward it. “Come on.”