Page 10 of Limbo

Shock, hurt, and anger—in that order. They cycle through me so fast that I can’t even identify them until the last one latches the fuck on. I would rather he hit me in the face than suggest I am easy.

His eyes widen, his expression vanishing. “I am so sorry, Callie. Sometimes, the asshole falls out of my mouth.”

I retrieve my coat, unable to decide which infuriates me more—him saying it or the fact that I ever gave him a chance to. “I was going to say, I’m unsure about this being the best place, considering everyone’s coats are in here.” He touches my arm on my way past, and I spin around. “Do not touch me. I was right the first time.”

My feet can’t carry me downstairs and out the door fast enough. I need to get away from arrogant guys and their smiles, predictable parties, phone calls reminding me of home, everything. I reach the end of the sidewalk and jerk to a stop.

Fuck.Felicia is my ride.

I pull on my coat and slide my phone from my back pocket to call either her or a cab. The door bangs open behind me. I whirl around as Jordan flies down the porch steps. Not waiting around for him to catch up, I storm off toward the dorms. Some poor guy even jumps off the sidewalk just to get out of my way.

“Callie.” Jordan trails after me. “I’m sorry. Please, just let me give you a ride.”

“Get away from me.”

“Or call you a cab at least.”

“No.” I pick up my pace to put more distance between us.

“Please, I’ll wait with you.”

“Oh, well, in that case, hell no.” I check over my shoulder, and he’s chasing me across the street. When he gets beside me, I hold up my phone. “Do I have to call the cops for you to leave me alone?”

At first, I think he stops, but as the music from the party fades out, his footsteps crunch snow behind me. Fucking great. The sound grows louder until they’re almost next to me again.

I shake my head, not looking at him. “If you want me to use the pepper spray on my keychain, keep walking.”

Silence.

Sun shining through the windshield heats the truck’s cab. With my feet out the window, I lie across the cracked vinyl bench seat and enjoy a rare moment of silence. The material covering the ceiling of this beater sags in the middle. A pushpin would fix the problem, but as long as it runs, Trey couldn’t care less about the appearance.

I almost fall asleep until footsteps on the gravel outside interrupt the peace. Trey climbs in and slams the creaky door to make sure it shuts. He nearly fell out on a sharp turn once and has developed the habit for his own safety. After a few pumps of the gas pedal, he cranks the ignition. The beast roars to life, and he throws the truck in gear, kicking up rocks as we peel out of the gas station’s parking lot.

Thank God for him keeping me sane since Pete left for camp a few weeks ago. Although we would have become inseparable over the summer with or without Pete. I love being around him and not just because he is sixteen and can drive me around. My cousin understands me unlike anyone—even more than Pete or Connor. The fake smiles that fool them, I never even attempt with Trey. They would never work. In fact, he’d probably feel insulted that I tried.

A hard brake threatens to throw my ass to the floor, so I pull my legs in and sit up. The truck fishtails as we fly down the gravel street at least twenty over the speed limit. No one so much as bats an eye at us. Even if Trey weren’t the sheriff’s son, the chances of anyone giving a shit about us tearing through Sutterville are low. Bored kids need something to do during the summer in a town of fewer than four hundred people. Unless the activities involve arson, most people look the other way.

In a shocking turn of events, Trey respects the stop sign on Main Street. A truck with a lift kit drives in front of us. The blond with one hand on the wheel relaxes in the seat, his other hand hanging out the window. He nods, a dimple appearing in his cheek as he half-smiles.

Holy shit, he is gorgeous.

“Who the fuck is that?” Trey asks. The truck lurches forward when he hits the gas, ripping me out of a hormonal teenage daze.

“Someone moved into the Hansen house yesterday,” I say.

He drives over to Jeffers Street, and sure enough, a never-before-seen car fills the driveway. No one ever moves in—or does anything else for that matter—without everyone knowing about it within twenty-four hours. Most people have lived here their entire lives, and a new family brings out the town’s nosy side. Until now, I thought of myself as an exception. But damn, I want to see that truck again.

Wish granted. It sits at the stop sign when we return to Main Street. My heart pounds as we pull up beside him, slowing down.

“Nice truck,” Trey says.

“Thanks.” It’s a normal enough voice, but somehow, it cuts all the way through me. Low and unshakeable, like the feeling from the last night I spent with Pete.

I intend to just glance out the dirty back window of the cab, but my eyes lock on his intense gaze. It holds me there, to him.He takes my breath awaysounds rather dramatic, but in all honesty, I’m focusing on each breath to avoid hyperventilating. His head cranes around, watching us drive away, watching me.

Trey’s phone rings, bringing my attention back to the dingy cab.

“Shit,” he says. “It’s Dad.”

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