I don’t know how long we sat in that pickup truck, two strangers wrapped around each other. One desperate for help, the other willing to give it without a thought for himself. But it was long enough that my shaking stopped, and my breathing slowed, and I started to feel very, very tired.
“You falling asleep on me?” he asked.
“Maybe,” I whispered.
“So you can talk.”
I cleared my throat and took a deep breath, realizing for the first time how good he smelled. “Yeah. I can talk.”
“You got a name?”
Hmm. I hadn’t decided on a new name yet. Now was as good a time as any. “Celeste.” It came out sounding like a question.
“You sure?”
I let out a little chuckle. “No, I’m not sure. What do you think my name should be?” I was feeling a little bit floaty, safe, like everything was suddenly fine.
He grunted. “Angel seems appropriate.”
My brow furrowed in confusion. I wasn’t an angel. I might not have been sure of much right then, but I did know that. “Why?” I asked as I was finally able to unlock my arms and wrap them around him.
“That’s what you looked like, standing in the middle of the road. Your hair looked like it was glowing. Though that might have been frost.”
I was guessing my white blouse, beige pants, blonde hair and pale skin all added to the image.
He cleared his throat. “Wow, that sounded cheesy. I swear I’m not trying to hit on you.”
I smiled, knowing that was true. “What’s your name?”
“Jack.”
“Nice to meet you, Jack. I’m pretty sure you saved my life.”
Another grunt. I was guessing that was a nervous habit of his. “So, what’s your story? What happened to land you out this way?”
“I had a car. I hit ice and ended up in a ditch.”
“Are you hurt?”
“I don’t think so.” Certainly not enough to care.
“Let’s see.” He pulled back and I reluctantly sat up, pulling away from the circle of heat we had created. My back was stiff. I pulled my legs down and put them in front of me, stretching as I tried to straighten my frame. Jack straightened as well then flipped the overhead light on.
I blinked against the light, and for the first time, I saw his face clearly. He was good looking, but in a casual way. Dark hair. Clean cut.
His eyes were wide and he stared without saying anything. Then he opened his mouth to speak but gave up and looked me over with an assessing eye. He pushed my hair away from my face, probably looking for bumps and bruises. He ran his hands lightly down my arms.
“How’s your neck?”
I moved it a little. “Stiff, but I’ll be fine.”
“Good. Good.” He looked me over again. “You seem to be okay.”
I let out a relieved chuckle. No hospitals in my future.
“Do you think you’re warm enough? Should I drive now?”
I nodded. Not that I was in a hurry, but I was sure he had things to do, and it seemed like the polite response.
He secured my seat belt around me then scooted into his own seat and fastened his. “You’re not much of a talker, are you?”
I was about to shake my head, but decided that vocalizing my thoughts would be better. “No, I’m not. Not that I mind talking, I just…don’t all that often.”
He put the truck in gear and pulled forward. “As soon as we have reception, we can call someone for you.”
My muscles seized up as all the old familiar fears and paranoia came rushing back. “I don’t need to call anyone.”
He raised a doubtful eyebrow. “You sure?”
“Yeah.”
He looked over at me and then back at the road. “Where were you headed when your car went off the road?”
I shrugged, trying to portray a casualness I didn’t feel. “Away from where I was.”
His brow portrayed his skepticism. “To wherever the wind or snow may take you, huh?”
“Sounds about right.” I huddled deeper into his coat, wondering if he was cold without it, hoping he would drop the subject and stop asking questions.
“Are you in some sort of trouble?”
I wasn’t ready for this. There hadn’t been time to decide on a story. I’d felt so safe that I hadn’t come up with a new life to adopt. The gears in my head struggled to start turning, but before I could come up with anything, Jack spoke up.
“Are you running from something? Should you be talking to the police?”
“No,” I said more forcefully than I intended. “No cops.”
“But—”
“Please. No cops.”
His brow pulled together. I knew he was worried. Not taking me to the police after that kind of a reaction probably had his instincts screaming in protest. He finally nodded. “Okay.” He returned his focus to the snowy road ahead of us and I tried to relax, allowing my panic to subside.
As the silence stretched, my reasons for not trusting law enforcement pounded through my head. The paranoia that was normally a background hum in my thoughts grew to the loud, steady beat of a bass drum.
***
I had been fifteen. It was my freshman year at a prestigious and expensive private school (only the best for daddy’s little girl). Most of the kids there didn’t know my dad was a criminal, but they suspected enough to stay away from me. My father had lectured me over and over about how I should be proud to be a Marchant. He tried to tell me that my last name made me powerful, and that there were few people worthy of my friendship.
When I was little, I’d believed it all. I was a princess in my father’s kingdom. But things changed over the years, and by the time I entered middle school, I couldn’t help noticing my lack of friends. When I asked to be allowed to go out with friends, Dad always told me no. It had been different when mom was alive. I had friends then. But she had died when I was nine, and after living with my father for a couple years, I started to recognize the cage he had built around me. Dad said I was powerful. But in reality, he had made me powerless. I clued in to who my father was, what his business meant, and what that made me.
I was a pawn. Sometimes I was a bargaining chip or a pretty face, but I was never me. My sister, Renee, blamed our father for our mom’s death. She despised him and everything he stood for. When the cage became too small for her to handle, she left—left me. It was just after I started high school that she woke me in the middle of the night to tell me goodbye. I wasn’t coherent enough to realize she was serious, but the next morning I woke up to find that she really was gone. That’s when the loneliness that had plagued me ever since my mother died settled even more securely around my shoulders.
When my dad found out that Renee was gone, he acted as if he didn’t care. Good riddance. She was a disappointment anyway. After all, he still had me. I would carry on his legacy. I would fulfill all his hopes and dreams. The cage got smaller.
When Sam showed up in the middle of my freshman year, he was the new kid, a junior, and a loner. I caught him staring at me a lot the first week. Then he started flirting with me. He was sweet, unassuming, and really cute. So when he asked me out, I was thrilled. A boy was interested in me, and it wasn’t because my dad was dangerous. He didn’t know he should stay away from me. I’d never dated before, though I’d been dressed up and assigned an escort-bodyguard whenever Dad had a special function to attend or host.