Part 92 (1/2)
Nate gives a derisive laugh and turns the key in the ignition. Again. Nothing. The thick blizzard swirls around my head and I struggle to see through it. He tries starting the car for a third time.
”f.u.c.k!” Nate slams his hand against the steering wheel when nothing happens.
This is one situation I never would've wanted an I told you so against Nate Campbell. ”Stuck, are we?”
”Obviously.”
”Right.” I walk around the back of the car then push open the boot.
”What are you doing?”
”Looking for my coat!”
”Why?”
I look up at where he's turned in his seat and point at the sky. ”Um. Snowing?”
”Get back in the car, then.”
”No way. We need to go.”
”Bu-”
”Don't tell me you're going to call and wait for the breakdown service? Not happening, Nate. Look at the b.l.o.o.d.y weather.”
”I can see the b.l.o.o.d.y weather!”
”Oh, so now you can?” I snap and yank my coat from my bag. ”s.h.i.+t. I have no decent shoes.”
Nate jumps out and approaches. ”Don't be stupid. We can't walk through this and where would we go anyway?”
”Back to the pub you love so much, I guess.”
”That's miles!”
”About five but I'm not staying in this car with you waiting to be buried in a snow drift. We can wait at the pub until we can get your car back. Come on.”
Shaking from the cold and shock of the accident, I shrug on my coat and hesitate before picking up my bag. Nate looks in surprise as I thrust it at him.
”Here,” I say.
”What's this?”
”My bag. You can carry it since you're the reason we're in this mess.”
”What about mine?”
”Carry both if you want.” My attempt to stalk off is marred by the struggle to get through the snow.
”For f.u.c.k's sake,” he grumbles and catches up, my bag slung across his shoulder.
We walk along the tracks left by Nate's car, but the further we go the more new snow has settled and obscured the tracks. Nate walks ahead of me and his figure blends into the storm around, and every time I speak, I get a mouth full of snowflakes.
I fight the tears and anger at Nate, and at myself. Why didn't I catch the train? Fine, a two-hour wait for one, but at least, risking that would be better than wading through snow with the a.s.shole with no common sense.
We reach the final hill and I can see the pub through the snow. But my legs ache, and the prospect of climbing the hill arrests me. Nate's taciturn att.i.tude along the walk p.i.s.ses me off. Is this man incapable of apologising?
Nate paces up the hill, until he apparently notices I'm not with him and turns. Do I look as bedraggled as he does? Snow covers his shoulders and he fights a losing battle to keep the snow from his hair as he repeatedly pushes his hand through.
”We're nearly there,” he says.
”I need to rest.”
He crosses his arms. ”Here?”
”Evidently.” Screw it. I'm soaked anyway. I drop onto my backside in the middle of a snowdrift.
”What the f.u.c.k?” asks Nate. ”You can't stop here. Get up.”
”No.”
”Fine.” He turns and continues his journey.
Jerk. I stare at the ground and pick up snow in my cold hand, squeezing it through my numb fingers. My woollen coat is soaked, and my legs cold where my damp jeans cling to them. Sitting here with more snow settling around isn't the smartest move.
But I don't care.
Nate's booted feet appear in front of me. He yanks me by the arm until I have to stand and I slam into his chest. ”You can't stay there. You'll die of hypothermia or some s.h.i.+t.”
I push him away and look into his p.i.s.sed-off face. ”I have a coat on.”
”Shut up and come on.” I'm yanked again and he strides along the path he created, hunched against the snow. I attempt to keep his pace and fail, convinced my aching legs are about to collapse.
”Nate. I'm serious. I need a break.”
An exasperated Nate drags both hands through his hair, and closes his eyes. He mutters something.
”What?” I snap.
”Get on my back.” I blink away the snowflakes on my eyelashes unable to respond. ”Riley, get on my back, and I'll f.u.c.king carry you.”
I grit my teeth. ”No.” Unsteadily, I pick through the snow past him. I'm soaked, and p.i.s.sed off, and b.l.o.o.d.y cold. I trip with the exhaustion and land on my knees.
I will not cry in front of Nate.