Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 87439 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 437(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87439 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 437(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
Christ, where was I? I had to be close to Vally’s place. I’d been walking for hours. Okay, more like ten minutes—rough minutes, though. I wasn’t sure if I’d even passed the second block. Where were the fucking street signs? There was nothing out here but trees and a winding road. It might be time to give hitchhiking a try.
Not possible. My fingers had become one with the paper grocery bags.
Just as well. At this rate, I’d get picked up by a lunatic. I could see the headlines now: “Former Pro Football Star Picked up by Mass Murderer in the Mountains.” No, “Football Has-Been Frozen in Vermont—Scoop at Eleven!”
Shit, I was delirious. And I still had to pee. Don’t worry, I wasn’t going to whip my dick out now. It would shrivel and fall off for sure. Definitely not funny, but a cartoon image of a blue penis in the snow cracked me up. I giggled like a delinquent kid, trudging along…hopefully in the right direction.
What was the address? I didn’t know it off the top of my head. If the cops came to the rescue, I wouldn’t be able to tell them where to go. No, not true. I had the info in my cell. I could look it up. Whoa. Even better, I could call 9-1-1.
What’s your emergency, sir?
My balls are frozen! Help!
I snicker-snorted, my eyes blurring as I shuffled, one foot in front of the other. The grocery bags weighed a fucking ton now, and they clipped my upper thighs with every step I took.
Wait. I didn’t have to call 9-1-1. I could call my neighbor. The lumberjack.
He was a nice guy. He would pick me up. And he was hot, too. For an older dude. Nah, he wasn’t that much older than me. I’d bet he was in his forties, though. He had a little silver in his hair…like a silver fox. Yeah…I liked him. No, no, no. This was his fault, ’member?
I stopped suddenly, blinking as I unpeeled my fingers from the grocery bags and let them fall at my feet. The eggs collided with the tomato soup. That couldn’t be good, but I had bigger worries on my mind. I couldn’t move my fucking fingers, and my teeth were chattering harder than ever. I reached into my pocket for my cell, fumbling and almost dropping it.
It took monumental powers of concentration to get my body parts to cooperate. Scrolling for a number was a nuanced maneuver akin to guiding a plane onto a runway in dense fog. I rubbed my nose and sniffed, refocusing my vision just enough to read the name I’d added to my contacts a couple of hours ago.
Cooper. I pressed the number, my breath wafting in theatrical plumes as I waited for him to answer.
One ring, two, three—
“Coop.”
“Sss me. No t-t-taxi and…now ssss cold.”
“Hello?”
“Hi. Um…”
“Who is this?”
“Sss…n-n-neighbor.” I squinted against the glare of the falling snow, grinding my teeth and rasping a pathetic, “Help.”
CHAPTER 4
COOPER
Neighbor? What the fuck?
It took a beat for me to process who was calling and then— “Silas?”
“Mmm. Sss-yes.”
“Where are you?”
“Dunno. Ssss-sidewalk…going h-h-home.” His voice was weak and sounded distorted, as if he were in a tunnel.
There were no tunnels on Belvedere, so I wasn’t sure what that was all about. Nonetheless, I was out of my chair, stuffing my arms in my jacket, and racing for the door in seconds flat. I shouted a harried good-bye at Layla but didn’t stop to explain where I was going. To be honest, I wasn’t sure.
I jumped into my truck and headed south toward home, diligently scanning the sidewalks and roads. My windshield wipers worked triple-time to combat the fat flakes coming down at a deceptively lazy speed. Hours of nonstop snow had blanketed the entire town. And while it was pretty and almost magical-looking, it was dangerous too.
I slowed behind Jerry O’Malley’s van and pressed the Call button on my console. I had no business doing a search-and-rescue operation on my own. If Silas was in bad shape, he’d need medical assistance.
“Call 9-1—whoa!”
There he was. A lone figure with groceries strewn at his feet in the middle of Snowmageddon.
Silas was hunched over, his hands covering his mouth in what was probably a futile attempt to stay warm.
I swerved around the van and made a sharp right onto Ketel Lane. I slammed my door and raced toward him, fumbling for the gloves in my pocket.
“Hey. L-l-look who’s h-h-here.” Silas’s jaw worked overtime, his teeth chattering like a renegade typewriter.
“What the fuck were you thinking?” I exploded. “You’re frozen.”
“N-n-no sh-sh-shit, Sh-sherlock.”
“Put these on and come with me.” I shoved my gloves at him, picked up the groceries, and gestured for him to follow.
Silas dropped the gloves and stumbled like Frankenstein. Fuck. How long had he been out here? He was in worse shape than I’d have thought. I left the gloves where they’d landed, set the bags on the ground, and put his right arm over my shoulders, pulling him along as if I were dragging him out of a burning building.