Page 7 of A Lifetime of Afters
Nothing happened.
He stepped back and crossed his arms over his wide chest, face smug. He never could hide his feelings.
I attempted to turn the engine over again only to hear the telltale click of a dead battery.
I dropped my head in defeat. I was tired. I smelled like shit. And I was cold. So damn cold. I slept far longer than I should have. The truth, which shook me, was that I was lucky he found me when he did.
I sighed. “Can you please give me a boost?”
“No.” He turned and stomped away.
I screamed in frustration. “Are you fucking kidding me? You can’t be serious?”
He spun around and stalked back, his finger in my face. “Potty mouth!”
I laughed. How many times his mother had reprimanded him the same way. “It’s warranted!”
Instead of smiling back at me, his lips flattened grimly.
He really did not want me here.
I tipped my chin down, giving myself a private moment to absorb the pain before locating my purse and phoning my dad to come and get me.
His next words stopped me cold.
“I’m getting my truck to tow you up to the house. The roads are closed. You’re not going anywhere,” he stated grimly. “Welcome home, Noelle.”
Chapter Four - Impassable
I watched him walk away, grumbling, “That’s not much of a welcome.”
For years I’d successfully limited my contact with him to a mere few minutes here and there. Even that much only after his divorce. Most times I visited, I managed to avoid him altogether. Staying with him at his house, where he most definitely did not want me, stung more than I wanted to admit.
Would I ever be over this foolishness?
Bruce stood up on my chest, arching his back. His tail swished back and forth over my face. Something dry and crusty and decidedly smelly brushed across my cheek.
I gagged and grabbed new tissues to wipe my face and block my nose. The thought of ingesting cat fart particles through my mouth flitted through my mind but I dismissed it.
“If I die, I die,” I stated resolutely. “Bruce, you have not lived up to your name during this journey and I feel you and I are not going to be friends today.” I scooped him under his belly and spun him around to assess the damage.
Pleasantly surprised to find the mess contained to only one leg and his tail, I cleaned him up with a few wet wipes that had joined the supplies on my passenger seat somewhere around hour four. Pulling the larger turds away, I earned myself several indignant ‘meows’ and a bat of his tiny paw. No claws. Perhaps we’d be friends after all. I twisted around to see the damage in the back and screwed up my face.
Perhaps not.
A violent shiver raced down my spine just as Hawk’s truck came into view. I hoped he had a big-ass fireplace up at his house. And I hoped it housed a roaring hot fire.
As he pulled to a stop, I moved to get out of my car.
“Nope,” he held up a hand. “You and that cat are not getting into my truck until you smell better.”
My mouth dropped open. “We don’t smell bad! The car smells bad!”
He smirked, “Oh, I know.” He drew an imaginary circle around his face. “I see your homemade filtration system. It’s a good look on you. And believe me when I tell you, you smell like you’ve been marinating in shit.”
The tissues. Ugh. I pulled them from my nose only to be assailed by the frozen air. “Mean!” I pointed at him.
He laughed and spread his hands wide. “What? You think you can sit in the car with him for all those hours and not have that smell in your clothes?In your hair?” he stressed.
