Ordinarily, I would make light of this. The Range Rover can drive through anything, and I have a full tank of gas and plenty of snacks, and my favorite girl is in the passenger seat. But Julie is still barely speaking to me, and my nerves are shot.
I had plans for today. We were going to stop in Leavenworth, Kansas to see a museum full of carousels. And then when Julie had her fill of the whimsical and insane, we were going to drive to Topeka to the Brown v. Board of Education National Historical Park because Emma told me that Julie’s favorite classes in law school were Constitutional Law andEducation Policy, and I thought she would like it. Instead, Julie texted me early this morning that she had to do some work, and would it be okay to leave later than we planned and drive straight to Wichita without stopping. If she really had to work, of course I wouldn’t care, but she didn’t.
I glance over at the passenger seat where she is curled up against the door again, this time with earbuds in her ears. Her eyes are closed, her hair falling in her face.
She has effectively shut me out in every way possible, ducking back down behind the walls that she has slowly been lowering to me. I want to tear my hair out of my head.
With my mind wandering, I don’t see the car in front of me start to spin until it’s too late. It’s a small sedan that has no business driving in this weather, and with the road snow covered and slippery, its back wheels lose traction quickly and it careens into a full spin, heading straight for us.
Julie gasps, her hand flinging out and clamping onto my leg. I grew up driving in Boulder in all kinds of inclement weather, so I react on instinct. I tap the brakes and steer the SUV as gently as I can into the next lane, thanking whatever higher power is out there that the road is relatively empty. Miraculously, the car in front of us recovers from the spin unscathed and continues on its way in the storm.
I should be shaken by the near miss, but I’m distracted by the feel of Julie’s hand. It’s the first time she’s touched me in twenty-four hours. It’s just a hand on my leg, but with the way my heart knocks against my ribs, it might as well be a hand right on my dick. All too soon she seems to realize what she’s doing and pulls her hand away like my leg burned her. Saying nothing, she starts scratching at her wrist. I know she won’t let me help her, and suddenly my giant car is too small and there isn’t enough air and I need to get the fuck out of here.
I steer the car over to the shoulder and throw it into park.Pulling out my phone, I open a browser and search “hotels near me.”
“What are you doing?” They’re her first words to me in hours.
“The snow is getting bad, so I think we should stop for the night.” I turn to look at her. “Are you okay with that?”
She just shrugs. Okay then. I turn back to my phone and the first listing is for Roses and Lace Inn four minutes away. I do a quick scroll through the pictures and it looks nice enough, so I pull the car back onto the road and take the next exit.
The inn sits at the end of a long, winding driveway with a canopy of leafless trees that sway in the swirling snow. The whole effect is reminiscent of a nineteen-sixties horror movie and is creepy as hell. Julie is staring out her window, her fingers tapping on her thigh, and I can only hope that the inn doesn’t match whatever is going on with this endless driveway or we’re in for a long night.
When we finally reach the end of the driveway, I breath a sigh of relief. The inn is an old but well-maintained Victorian style mansion. It’s light blue with scalloped wood siding, tall, narrow windows, and a giant wrap-around porch.
Pulling up into one of the parking spots in front that is as cleared as it could possibly be in the middle of the blizzard, I get out of the car and go around to Julie’s side to open her door, but she is already out of the car by the time I get there. In silence, we go to the trunk, and I pull out the suitcases we need for the night, wincing a little at the throb in my shoulder. I start to head to the porch and out of the snow when Julie tries to pull her suitcase away from me. I turn towards her.
“What are you doing?”
“Taking my suitcase.” She tries to pull it away again, but I don’t let her.
“I’ve got it.”
She attempts a glare, but her eyes aren’t angry. They’re sad. Resigned. I wish she would tell me what the fuck is going on. “You don’t got it. I saw the face you made back there. Carrying both is hurting you.”
My stomach drops a little at her acknowledgement of my pain. “Julie, just let me carry the suitcase. And let’s get out of the snow, okay?”
Her breath hitches and her eyes glass over. Yanking her hand from her suitcase, she turns and stomps up the stairs and disappears inside.
Motherfucker.
I follow her inside where it’s warm and bright and smells like apples and cinnamon. The woman sitting at the carved wooden desk that serves as the reception area has silver, curly hair and is wearing a red dress covered in gingerbread men. When she sees us, her eyes light up, and with her plump, flushed cheeks, she looks like a bed and breakfast owner straight out of central casting.
“Terrible weather out there,” she says with a smile at us. “Welcome to Roses and Lace. I’m Shirley. How can I help you tonight?”
“Do you by any chance have a couple of rooms for the night? We were supposed to go to Wichita, but the weather got too bad to keep driving.”
“Oh, I’m so glad you found your way here. It’s way too dangerous to keep driving out there. Unfortunately, you’re not the only people who have decided to stop for the night to get out of the weather, so I just have one room available.”
I can hear Julie’s sharp inhale from across the room where she’s studying the pictures lining the wall. I know she hates the idea of one room with whatever is going on in her head, but she’s going to have to deal with it and with me.
“That would be fine; thank you so much.” I hand hermy credit card, and she runs it through a machine that looks as old as I am and gives me back the card.
“Wonderful. Here’s the key.” She hands me an actual brass key on a keychain in the shape of a flower. “You’ll be in room eight. It’s straight up the stairs, last door on the right. Breakfast starts at six-thirty.”
“Thank you so much. We appreciate it.”
I turn to grab the suitcases and find Julie right behind me reaching her hand out.
