Page 106 of Ice Darling
My nostrils flare.
My blood spikes to over one hundred and fifty degrees.
Mauve tentatively hands me my card back. “Here you go, Renthrow.”
“Thanks.” I claw the card back into my pocket and stalk past April. “You ladies have a good night.”
I barely hear their returned greetings. My focus is on the door and then on my car and then on my phone as I dial Cordelia’s number.
I’m not surprised when the line rings and she doesn’t pick up. Tapping the messenger app, I bring my thumb down on the screen when I realize that I don’t have a reason to text her.
What do I even say?
Get away from Brennon? I don’t like seeing you with other men?
She’s going to think I’m a lunatic.
I exit the messenger app and toss my phone across to the passenger seat. So what if she’s out with Brennon? It’s not like anything will happen. Cordelia said she was no longer interested in him.
I close my eyes, and my head reels with nightmarish images of Brennon leaning in and kissing Cordelia. What if—high on her childhood nostalgia—she kisses him back?
She said she’s not interested in him anymore.
Yeah, but the past has a funny way of keeping us locked in chains.
I should know.
Raking a hand through my hair, I start the car but don’t immediately drive. I can’t let this go on without intervening. But how do I draw Cordelia away from Brennon without coming off as a stalker?
I scroll through my phone, stopping at April’s number. Cordelia will pick up her boss’s call, and then I can…
No, I shouldn’t use April like that.
I swipe down and notice the Lucky Falls community group chat. The latest post was about a missing cow that wandered out of the Trentwood Farms. I could put out a post asking if anyone’s seen Cordelia around town. That way, I could figure out where she and Brennon are…
Cordelia isn’t cattle.
I smack my head against the headrest, biting back the panic. Should I spend the night driving around town looking for her?
No, I shouldn’t. That would really be stalking then.
I should just go home.
The car starts with a purr, and I drive slowly down Main Street. Cars honk as I move at a snail’s pace, looking through all the diners and shops for a woman with short hair and a leather jacket.
“The heck is wrong with you!” A motorist drives by and flips me the finger.
“Good night to you too, pal,” I mutter, continuing to putter along as dusk gives way to darkness.
It’s not stalking if I’m just driving around town for my own leisure, is it?
Fifteen minutes tick by, and sadly, I don’t spot Cordelia anywhere.
I’m considering where I should go next when the sound of police sirens erupts behind me. My heart tightens when I spot Sheriff Kinsey motioning for me to pull over.
I flick the indicator and bring my car to a stop on the side of the road.
“Viking Renthrow, is something the matter?” Sheriff Kinsey asks as he bends to look through my window. “You were driving mighty slow in town.”
