Page 32 of Twice Shy

Chapter Eleven

Halloween Ice-Scream Social, Friday November 1st

New Milton was still costumed for Halloween, but in the damp fog of All Saints Day the town had taken on the appearance of a bedraggled partygoer the morning after the night before. Limp, mist-sodden decorations hung from porches and front doors, half trampled by the hordes of trick-or-treaters who’d been out the night before. Rory and Luis among them.

Ollie smiled at the memory. It had been a fun night, Rory had loved dressing up and Luis had looked adorable in the little pumpkin costume Ollie had found for three bucks at the thrift store in Commack. They’d both stayed up too late and, despite Ollie’s best efforts, eaten too much candy. But that was what Halloween was all about. Like Dee said, an occasional treat was good for kids.

Thinking of Dee led his mind back to that date-that-wasn’t-a-date with Joel Morgan and his smile faded. At first, he’d been more than half expecting a call from Joel asking him out, but when Ollie’s simple message thanking him for the coffee had been met only with a curt ‘You’re welcome’ he’d begun to have doubts. Not about Joel’s interest, because that had been unmistakable, but about his interest in acting on it. And, honestly, if Joel was confused about his sexuality, Ollie would rather nothing happened between them. His life was hard enough without taking on somebody else’s neuroses, even if that somebody else was a kind and handsome guy who looked at Ollie with such warmth it made his insides gooey.

To keep himself from obsessing, Ollie had refocused his thoughts on Luca Moretti. Their weird moment in Dee’s had upset him—he didn’t want to make the guy feel uncomfortable and he didn’t want to feel uncomfortable himself. New Milton wasn’t a big place, so they were bound to run into each other now and then. But it had occurred to him that maybe Luca thought Ollie wanted something from him, like money or a cut of the family business. That was the last thing on Ollie’s mind, but how would Luca know that? He didn’t know Ollie from Adam.

He’d worried at the problem restlessly over the last couple of weeks and eventually concluded that the only thing to do was talk to Luca again and reassure him on that front. The prospect of another confrontation tied him in knots, but he figured he had to try. Which was why he’d taken the afternoon off and was heading out of New Milton toward the Majestic Hotel.

His stomach churned, fingers tapping nervously on the steering wheel as he drove through the fog. It had rolled in overnight and lingered all day, the foghorn on the distant Huntington Harbor Light sounding eerily every few seconds. Up ahead, vague through the mist, he saw a flare of red lights and tapped his breaks cautiously. He was already crawling along the coastal road, not only because he didn’t like the idea of the cliff so close but because the fog was thickening. He could smell it, dank and heavy with a tang of the ocean that you didn’t get inland. Halloween might have been yesterday, but this was perfect weather for ghosts and ghouls. Behind him, someone flashed their headlights. He glanced in the rearview mirror and saw a huge SUV sitting on his tail. Asshole. Ollie stubbornly did not speed up. Locals drove these roads like they were on a racetrack, but Ollie took it easy even in good weather. He’d never been a speed demon and since Jules’ death he couldn’t shake the idea that cars were basically death traps on wheels. Anyway, you’d have to be an idiot to drive much over thirty in this fog. An idiot like the guy behind him who, with another flash of headlights and the blare of a horn, overtook.

Ollie gave him the finger. “Asshole.”

He kept crawling along, the fog pressing down heavier. Maybe this had been a bad idea. He didn’t even know whether Luca would be home, although he certainly wouldn’t be surfing today. But he could be out, or busy. Ollie should have called first. That had been his mistake last time, just showing up. Ugh, remembering Luca’s shocked dismay still made him cringe. Maybe he should turn around and—

Taillights blazed scarlet right in front of him, dazzling in the fog. He yelled, slammed his foot on the break—“JesusChrist!”—and skidded, smashing into the car in front and sending his head ricocheting back against his headrest.

His car jumped and stalled, spots of light dazzled Ollie’s eyes and pain flared down his neck. All he could hear was the hum of a distant car engine and the rush of blood in his ears. “Fuck.” His voice sounded dry and tremulous. “Fuckingshit.”

Fumbling with the door, he staggered out of the car on shaking legs. What the fuck? What the actualfuck? His head pounded and from the corner of his eye he glimpsed Rory’s car seat in the back of the car. His knees almost gave way.

Thank God the boys weren’t with him.Thank God.

The front fender was crunched in badly, entangled with the back of a white sedan. He hurried around to the driver’s door just as it opened. A young woman, about his age, was climbing out. She looked wide-eyed and breathless. “What the hell?”

“You just stopped!”

“Uh, yeah? There was a fucking deer in the road?”

“Jesus.” His heart thundered, guilt washing over him, making him lightheaded.You were driving too close. You weren’t paying attention. “I’m sorry. I didn’t see…”

“You’d better be fucking insured,” the woman said, pulling out her phone. “Shit.”

“I’m insured.” Liability only, though. It wouldn’t cover his car. Crap. Crap, crap,crap. His legs shook and he leaned against his car, breathing hard.

“I’m calling the cops,” the woman said. “We should— Hey, are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“You’ve gone, like, super pale. Are you hurt?”

He shook his head. “I’m fine. I’m sorry, I’m just...”

In the distance, two yellow lights floated towards them through the fog. Headlights. Shit, he couldn’t let another car plow into them. Pushing himself upright, Ollie reached into his car and put his emergency flashers on. He wasn’t sure how visible the lights would be through the fog, given how skewed his car was, so he pulled out his phone and stumbled on wobbly legs a few feet back down the road. He fumbled the flashlight on and waved it up and down, hoping it was bright enough to penetrate the murk. After a moment the headlights brightened and cleared as a car emerged from the fog. Ollie waved both arms and the car slowed, coming to a halt a cautious distance back. Ollie jogged towards it. “There’s been an accident. Just up ahead.”

A young man blinked at him through heavy-framed glasses. “Shit. Is anyone hurt?”

“No. But can you put your four-way flashers on? The road’s blocked.”

The guy did and got out of his car. “Do you need a tow truck? My”—his gaze ran over Ollie, quick and assessing—“fiancé’s a mechanic. I could call him? He’s back in New Milton.”

A tow truck? Damn, he hadn’t even thought. But, yeah, he was going to need to be towed. Crap. He tried to smile, but it probably looked sickly. “That would be great, thanks.”

While the guy got on his phone, Ollie headed back toward his car. The other driver was crouching down taking photos of the damage. Somehow their fenders were tangled together, her taillight crunched, mirroring the front of Ollie’s car. And now he looked closer he could see that his fender was curved right underneath, digging into his deflated front tire. He’d definitely need a tow; no way was his car drivable. In fact—his heart sank—he doubted it was fixable. Even if he’d had the money, which he didn’t.

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