Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 95107 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95107 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
“Bed and fireplace—the staples of life,” I agree solemnly. Then I beam at him. “This is such a terrific surprise.”
“You sure?” He anxiously searches my expression as if evaluating my honesty.
“I’m positive.” I run my fingers through his close-cropped hair and gaze at him reassuringly. “I can’t wait.”
6
Logan
I’m excited for this trip. Sure, it’s not a tropical beach, but the change of scenery will do us good, and I’m looking forward to escaping my obligations for two whole days. No morning skates, no backbreaking games and sore ribs. Just me and Grace for forty-eight stress-free hours, without anyone or anything getting in the way.
When I was in college, I drove a beat-up truck that I fixed up myself. Hell, I rebuilt the entire engine on that old thing—twice. Nowadays I’m driving a brand-new Mercedes. My rookie salary isn’t even that much compared to what other players are raking in, and yet it’s still more money than most people make in a decade.
But this new vehicle lacks the charm of my old one. The engine barely makes a sound, and when we’re off the highway and driving on an uneven, unpaved road, the suspension proves just as efficient. The SUV barely moves as it coasts over various potholes.
Despite the peak performance of my new ride, I let out a wistful sigh. “I miss my pickup.”
Grace looks over. “Aww, really?”
“I really do.” I couldn’t even bear to sell it, so it’s currently sitting in my older brother’s garage. We both know I’ll have to get rid of it eventually because it’s just taking up space, but I’m not ready to say goodbye yet.
“Your truck didn’t have butt warmers,” Grace points out. “Butt warmers are the best.”
“They are the best,” I agree.
A notification appears on the screen at my dashboard. Since my phone’s hooked up to the car, my text messages are synced to it. “Text from Dean,” Grace tells me.
“Ignore it.” I make a grumbling noise. “He and Tuck are terrorizing me and G in the group chat about the blog post.”
“And you expect me to ignore that?” Her eager hand snaps forward. After she taps a button on the screen, Siri begins reciting Dean’s words.
“I just don’t get it. We were all roommates in college. I never even suspected you two were boning!”
Grace chortles happily. “It’s even better hearing it from Siri. Ooh. There’s one from Tucker.” She taps “next message.”
“I always had a feeling. They kept trying so hard to act like they were platonic.”
“Because we were platonic!” I growl.
“Were?” my girlfriend says sweetly.
“Are,” I correct. “We were and are platonic.”
Another message from Dean comes in.
“Sneaky bastards.”
I hit a button on the screen. “Siri, send text to Best Buds Forever chat.”
“Best Buds Forever?” Grace howls. “That’s the name of your group chat?”
“Yeah, got a problem with that?” To Siri, I dictate, “Hey dipshit, at least I wasn’t sneaking around taking baths with pink dildos.” With a smug nod, I press send. “There. That’ll shut him up for a while.”
Up ahead, the road gets narrower and windier, summoning a worried frown from Grace. “Where is this place?”
“I told you, it’s rustic.”
“Rustic.”
“Oh, come on, don’t give me that look. It’s not like we’re gonna be sleeping outside in a tent. I told you, we’ll have a huge bed, a roaring fireplace…” I waggle my eyebrows enticingly.
“You’re really trying to sell me on this fireplace.”
“Because it’s fucking awesome and I wish we had one in the apartment.”
“No, you don’t. They’re a fire hazard.”
“You’re a fire hazard.” I wink at her. “Because you’re so hot.”
Grace sighs.
For the next five miles, we chat about nothing in particular, until Grace becomes apprehensive again.
“The snow is picking up,” she says.
It is. What started off as light flurries is now falling harder and sticking to the road. The sun has completely set and the sky is pitch-black, the Mercedes’ top-of-the-line headlights the only thing illuminating our way. Maybe it’s good I don’t have my truck anymore—the right headlight was always flickering, and the left one was too pale. We’d be driving blind right now if we were in that pickup. It was a piece of shit, but I loved it.
“Do you think we should turn around?” Grace asks.
I glance at her. “And go where?”
Her teeth worry her bottom lip. “Back to the highway maybe?”
“The highway’s an hour away.”
“Yeah, but according to the GPS, it’s still another hour and a half to the B&B. Technically we’re closer to the interstate.”
“We can’t just bail,” I chide. “We’re not quitters, babe.”
“But it’s…” She trails off.
“It’s what?”
“It’s dark and scary!” she wails. “Look out the window, Logan. I feel like we’re in a horror movie.”
She’s not entirely wrong. Save for the two yellow stripes from the headlights, the road is dark and the snow isn’t letting up. If anything, the weather’s only getting worse. The wind has picked up, a deafening gust beyond my window. It’s troublesome that I can’t hear the damn engine and yet I can clearly hear the wind.