I should have taken the extra five seconds to grab my fluffy warm jacket before storming out of my mom’s house. My fancy wool suit did nothing to protect me from the icy winds howling along the empty road, and my hands had turned red and stiff even though I’d shoved them into my armpits to keep them warm. As the icing on the cake, it had started snowing a few minutes ago. Not the romantic kind of snow normally associated with Christmas, with large, beautiful snowflakes dillydallying their way toward the ground. No, these were heat-seeking missiles disguised as sleet, bombarding me from every direction. Finding their way down the neck of my suit coat and even into my goddamned ears.
When my shiny dress shoes slipped on yet another patch of black ice—and I barely managed to keep myself from landing on my butt on the roadside—I tilted my head back and screamed out my frustration. An angry, wordless wail, directed at the universe in general and homophobic relatives in particular. But my bellowing drowned in the roaring winds and I regretted it the second the ice pellets found their way down my throat.
I coughed and looked back over my shoulder. I could still tuck my tail between my legs and trudge back. Mom would welcome me with open arms like she’d always done—no questions asked—and fuss over me and give me dry clothes and a hot beverage to make sure I wouldn’t “catch my death.”
It was far closer than the town, but I didn’t want to face my idiot Uncle Bob again, or any of the others who’d just turned their heads away as he spewed his hatred on me while the radio played jolly Christmas songs in the background. I didn’t know what made me angrier: his hateful words, or my cousins’ feeble avoidance. I’d expected more from them.
Mom had avoided confrontation as usual, but I hadn’t expected anything else. We’d argued about it lots of times, but she didn’t have it in her. Once, I’d even watched her throw up when she’d tried standing up for us, and I didn’t pressure her about it anymore.
She had caught up with me before I’d left—eyes full of disappointment with herself—and pleaded with me to stay. I couldn’t do it, even for her. I’d fought hard to keep the angry tears at bay and the last thing I wanted was for Bob to see how he’d gotten to me. How upset I’d been. I always tried to keep a brave face, to pretend nothing ever affected me, as if I was enveloped in an invisible shield that bounced off all projectiles aimed at me.
But seeing my mom shrink with disillusionment at her brother’s behavior had made it impossible for me to be strong and stoic. Feeling like shit for abandoning her, I’d given her a quick hug before I’d slammed the door to underscore my rage.
Not even the snow pandemonium had managed to cool me down. Just the thought of my uncle’s flaming red face and acrid breath made me want to throw up and run away and never return.
I had to calm down. I needed to call my mom and tell her I was fine even if it would be a blatant lie. I didn’t like worrying her, but I wasn’t ready yet. I needed more time.
Hiking up my shoulders, I resumed walking. It was five miles or so to town. A human being could survive being blasted with ice bullets for that long. Right?
A few minutes later, a vehicle approached from behind. Reacting instinctively, I turned around and waved my arms, hoping the big truck would stop and have mercy on my freezing ass.
I let out a giddy yelp as it slowed down, but it got stuck in my throat when the driver rolled down the window.
He was huge and couldn’t hold his head upright without banging it on the ceiling. Big steel gauges adorned both his ears—at least an inch and a half wide—and his hair was black and so closely cropped it resembled a five o’clock shadow more than an actual haircut.
“You need a ride?” he asked and his voice was deeper than the Mariana Trench, perfectly matching his frightening appearance. Black tattoos crept up his neck and snaked down his hands below his sleeves. His shoulders were wide, his muscles strained the sleeves of his thick black jacket, and his cheeks were hollow. I was one second from shitting myself.
“I’m not riding with a serial killer!” The words slipped out of my mouth and I groaned. I couldn’t have kept my mouth shut for five fucking seconds to avoid being chopped up and thrown to the wolves?
He threw his head back and let out a thunderous laugh.
“What’s so goddamned funny?” I glared at him, but he didn’t seem to care.
“I’m no serial killer.”
“And I’m just supposed to take your fucking word for it?” I raised an eyebrow. I knew I was being combative and taking out my frustration on this stranger, but I couldn’t stop myself.
“You could call my ma for references.”
“Ha ha. Very funny.” With a deep sigh, I resigned to my fate and started walking again. No way was I getting into a car with that mammoth of a man.
“Where you goin’?” he called after me. When I didn’t bother to answer, he eased off the break and let his truck crawl after me.
I swirled around. “Stop following me, you creep,” I hissed.
He let go of the steering wheel with one hand and held it up as if he surrendered. “Look, man. It’s freezin’. You’re wet and miserable. Get in the truck and lemme take you wherever you’re goin’.” His deep voice was surprisingly gentle. Non-threatening, as if he’d come to expect reactions like mine.
“I’m really not a bad guy.” He stuck out his lower lip in a pout that would have made a five-year-old girl green with envy and I had to bite my lip to stop a smile from erupting.
“Really?” I tried to hang on to my mistrust, but he made it hard. His appearance screamed RUN AND HIDE, but there was something soft in his eyes that told a different story.
He shot me a crooked smile. “It was worth a try. It works on my niece every time.”
The fucker knew all the right words to say to disarm me. “And how old is she?”
“Four.”
I huffed out a reluctant chuckle. “Well, you know how it is. Everyone always says how they couldn’t believe their neighbor was a serial killer because he seemed like such a nice guy.”
His eyes grew big and round. “You’re sayin’ you don’t trust my niece as a character witness?” He sounded as though I’d just delivered the biggest insult of his life, but the amused glint in his eyes told me it was all for show.
“Can you blame me?”
“I guess not.” He sighed and grew serious. “Please. I couldn’t live with myself if I left you here to freeze to death.”
My body screamed at me to take him up on his offer. The ice pellets were relentless and I was soaked and gloomy and was starting to feel like maybe being ax murdered wouldn’t be the worst thing that could happen to me right now.
The openness in his posture and honesty in his eyes had me on the verge of caving. “You promise you won’t kill me?” I sounded like a scared little kid even to my own ears.
“Cross my heart and hope to die.” He smiled, made a cross over his heart, and leaned over to open the passenger door. The warmth from inside washed over me and I jumped into the truck and slammed the door to keep the arctic weather out. He’d already rolled up the window and as I buckled up, he turned the heat to maximum. When the warm air hit my face, I wanted to cry of happiness.
“Take off your coat,” he said and twisted his body so he could reach something in the back seat.
“Why?” I pulled my wet suit coat tighter around my body. His presence was overwhelming and invaded my space, even if he physically kept his distance. Whatever progress we’d made before I’d gotten into his vehicle evaporated, and I was back to being hostile.
“Because it’s wet.” He shoved a dark gray fleece jacket at me. “Wear this.”
I wrinkled my nose. Fleece was so not my thing.
“Oh, for Pete’s sake!” He shook his head. “Put on the darned thing or you’ll catch your death.”
It was just what my mom had always said when she’d caught me sneaking out without warm clothes when I was a kid, and the familiarity made me see how ridiculous I was being. I peeled off my wet garment and put on his fleece monstrosity. I drowned in it—it could probably have doubled as a tent—but it was dry, shrouded me in heat, and thawed my frozen spirit.
“Feel better?”
“Mhm,” I muttered.
“What’s your name?”
“Why do you ask?” As soon as the words left my mouth, I wanted to take them back. What the fuck was wrong with me?
He stared at me with wide eyes. “Because it’s the polite thing to ask.”
Damn, I hated it when I had to apologize for being an ass. “You’re right. Sorry. I’m Daniel Erickson.”
“Nice to meet you. I’m Ax.”
My mouth fell open and I scrambled as far away from him as I could. “Ax? As in you’re gonna chop me up and kill me, ax? Are you fucking kidding me right now?”
He groaned and rubbed his eyes with his thumb and index finger. “No. As in short for Axel.”
“Ax? You look like that—” I gestured up and down his huge body, “—and your name is Ax?”
“Yeah.” It was more of a miserable sigh than a word.
I smacked my forehead. “Shit, I’m being a jerk.” My brain-to-mouth filter was something I’d worked hard to acquire and it didn’t always work. It would have been great if it hadn’t malfunctioned now, though, because if Axel—no way I was calling him Ax—really was a serial killer, I sure as hell wasn’t doing myself any favors. I might as well have worn a red loin cloth to a bull-fighting arena.
“You’re not so bad.”
“Yes, I am. I’m sorry. I know I can be a shithead, but in my defense, you’re fucking intimidating.”
“And you have a surprisingly dirty mouth for someone so…swanky.”
“Don’t I know it?” My mouth had gotten me in trouble countless times. I’d gotten better at not saying the first thing that popped into my head, but if I was stressed or angry, shit just spilled out.
“Where you goin’, Danny?”
“Daniel,” I corrected.
“Sorry,” he said but didn’t look it. I had a feeling I’d be stuck with “Danny” for the entire drive. “Where to?”
“Town, I guess.”
He raised an eyebrow.
“I haven’t really thought this through properly,” I muttered.
“You don’t say.”
“What the fuck do you mean?” I grimaced at the combativeness in my voice, but he just shrugged.
“You’re not exactly dressed for the weather.”
“I forgot to grab my jacket when I ran out.” I loved that jacket. It was fluffy and downy and so warm I could have fallen asleep in Siberia and still been comfy when I woke up in the morning.
“Wanna go back for it?”
“No!” I ran my fingers through my hair and shivered as I came in contact with the wetness. “No,” I repeated, a little calmer. “I guess I’m going to a hotel for the evening.”
“You betcha.” After checking the road for traffic, he pulled away.