Page 65 of Winter’s Teeth

I couldn’t put my finger on it, but something about Harold was off. Other than the embarrassment coursing through me after being interrupted mid-life-altering-make-out with Fox, Harold had an air about him that didn’t settle right.

That, and his scent was different, but I hadn’t gotten a clear whiff of him yet to parcel out the difference. The smell of grease and burgers permeated the air too thickly, and my senses were still reeling from the sweet, vanilla kiss.

We followed him out while he whistled the tune of some country song that had been playing on the overhead radio in the rest stop. He seemed...jauntier? I really didn’t know what it was.

Getting into the truck again, I slipped my hand into Fox’s between our thighs and sent up a few silent prayers that my friends were still alive back at the cabin.

What was I thinking? Making out with Fox when we needed to be on high alert and planning our next move wasn’t exactly wise, and the reality was we didn’t have a clue what we might find back at the cabin.

You’re in shock though, whispered my devil’s advocate. A girl in shock is allowed a little kiss to ground her again, right? Not that I could say I felt very grounded. If anything, the kiss had left me weightless, like I might float up into the sky and never come back down.

No kisses in my past had ever made me feel like that.

I shook my head lightly, clearing the thoughts. Now wasn’t the time to be dissecting the pros and cons of every kiss I ever had to compare to Fox’s. Now was the time to be going over self-defense maneuvers and plans for how I would get to Ben’s guns if they were in trouble when we got back.

“You should probably just drop us off here,” Fox said as we rounded a bend in the highway. “The truck won’t make it up the backroads.”

“You sure?” Harold asked. “I’ve got all-wheel drive.”

“I’m sure. It’s too narrow and bumpy for the trailer, but it’s not a far walk.” Fox insisted, even if it really was another two miles on back roads to get to the cabin. I knew why he didn’t want Harold going with us though.

The more people who know, the more people have to die.

I shuddered at the reminder.

“I don’t know...” Harold drawled, scratching at the scruff of a week-old beard under his chin. “I wouldn’t feel right letting you kids go off alone in the dark. Wasn’t something chasing you?”

We hadn’t said exactly why we needed help, but it wasn’t a far-off guess considering we’d come barreling out of the woods at top speed when he almost ran us over.

Well, almost ran me over. Fox was a little quicker on his feet.

Harold slowed the truck when we reached the turn off for the back road. “How about I take you some of the way.”

“No, it’s really—” Fox started.

Harold cranked the wheel, turning down the back road, but it was the motion of his body that sent a fresh whiff of him up under my prickly nose.

I instantly bristled.

The Harold we first met had smelled like cigarettes and raspberry iced tea. This man smelled like woodsmoke and cheap cologne. My nose was never wrong, and no shower, no matter how scalding hot, could erase the scent of cigarettes quite so efficiently.

This man wasn’t Harold, and in light of Fox warning me about his shapeshifting family members who could sometimes impersonate people, a warning bell blared to life inside my head, jarring me to the point of tunnel vision.

I turned to Fox and whispered low, “Get out.”

I didn’t care how. If we had to jump out of a moving truck into a ditch, I would risk it.

Fox’s eyes widened subtly, and his hand jerked for the door handle.

Locked.

Other-Harold chuckled as the truck bounced along on the uneven terrain. “No need to get so jumpy. I’m not gonna rob you. Just trying to make sure you get home safe.”

“Here’s good,” I insisted, my voice rising in pitch and volume as nerves gripped my vocal cords. “Please! Here’s fine, Harold!”

The truck wheels screeched to a halt, and I lurched forward, almost smacking my head off the dashboard if it weren’t for Fox throwing out his arm to hold me back.

“Alright. If you insist.”