The Shuddering (19 page)

“You can give me the real one when you buy it.” She wiped a cheek with the sleeve of her coat. “If you decide you still want to buy it.” She dropped the ring into his hand and looked away again. “I’m sorry that I’m such a bitch. I just want to go home, okay? Please just take me home.”

His heart twisted as he closed his hand around the ring, sliding it into the pocket of his coat before looking back to the unnavigable road ahead. “I don’t know if I can, Ape,” he confessed quietly.

“Just…please try,” she pleaded. “I can’t go back in there. I’m not going to. There’s no way.”

Sawyer could relate to that. He didn’t want to go back in there either, not without erasing the last fifteen minutes from
everyone’s memory. He reversed again. There wasn’t enough distance between them and the car-made mogul to plow through it, so he turned the wheel to the right instead. They’d go around.

He heard something behind them—a yell. Ryan was waving his arms over his head. Jane was standing next to him, her oversize sweater hanging off her like a sack, her colorful pajama pants a circuslike contrast against the whiteness of snow. Sawyer hit the brakes, suddenly realizing what Ryan was screaming about, but it was too late. The Jeep slid down the slope of the driveway, then suddenly lurched forward, the right front tire sinking lower than the rest.

“Shit,” Sawyer said, freezing in place. But with no possibility of reversing, he kept the Jeep rolling; it was forward or nothing. April sucked in a shaky breath as the front tire pulled out of the divot while the back tire replaced it. He cursed his decision of veering right rather than left. Left would have given him a better view of what he was doing. Right just had him guessing what was coming.

“Roll down your window,” he said.

April did as she was told, a startled expression veiling her features, a cold blast of air coiling through the car’s interior.

“I need to know if I’m clear.”

“I don’t know,” she said, her bottom lip trembling again.

“Ape, come on. I need your help.”

“Clear of
what
?” she asked.

Frustrated, he leaned forward, his chest pressed against the steering wheel. The trees were close to the passenger side now, threatening to knock off the side-view mirror. Ryan was skidding down the road behind them, sticking to the tracks they’d made. Sawyer reluctantly rolled down his window as his friend slid to a stop beside the car.

“You can’t go any farther,” Ryan told them, breathing hard. “You’re at the edge of the runoff.”

Sawyer slammed the Jeep into reverse, but the tires just spun, kicking up dirty snow onto the road.

“I’m not going back in there,” April whispered, her gaze pleading for Sawyer to keep trying.

“You’re stuck,” Ryan said. “There’s no way out of here.”

That was when April started sobbing.

Sawyer blinked at the girl next to him, surprised by her response. There was no question that she would resist hiking back up the driveway, but he couldn’t help but stare as she shook her head in insistence, her fists pounding against her knees, a full-fledged temper tantrum—something he had yet to witness in the six months they had been together.

“No no no
no NO
!” she yelled. “I’m not going back in there! I want to go home!”

Ryan leaned through the window, trying to reason with her. “Even if you get down this road, you’re never going to make it to the highway.”

“Why don’t you mind your own business?” she wailed. “I don’t even
know
you.”

“Jesus,” Sawyer said.

“If you don’t drive, I will,” April cried into her hands. “Just stay here with your friends, okay? I don’t want to be here anymore.”

“Okay, just give me some room,” Sawyer told Ryan. Ryan opened his mouth to say something, but Sawyer shot his friend a look. “I can’t handle this right now,” he confessed. “Ryan, move.” And then he stomped on the accelerator.

The Jeep lurched forward.

Ryan jumped back.

The right tires sank low and April’s eyes went wide. One of her hands instinctively pressed against the dash while the other held the armrest of the door.

“Oh my god,” she yelped, but Sawyer pressed on toward the inevitable, and the inevitable came quickly. The Jeep sank low, every nerve in Sawyer’s body buzzing as he felt the left tires lift off the ground. April screamed as the car tipped against the embankment. Sawyer’s mind reeled, wondering why the hell he had just done what he’d done, wondering if this stupid move had been some subconscious sabotage to stay here longer now that April’s ring was in the pocket of his coat, now that he was free. The Jeep tipped over, pinning April’s door in place as she bawled.

They were stuck for good.

April’s breath came in gasps. She stared at the boy in the driver’s seat, speechless, as Sawyer tried to keep from falling on top of her. After a bit of effort he shoved the car door open and pulled himself out.

“Holy shit,” Ryan said, his hands on top of his head again, assessing the situation. “Holy shit, dude. Holy
shit
. You just wrecked your car,” he marveled, unable to peel his eyes away from the leaning vehicle. “Your baby. Your pride and joy.”

Sawyer stared at the Jeep for a long while, as though suddenly realizing exactly what he had done. And then he shrugged. “Yeah, I did. Didn’t see
that
coming, did you?”

April cried out for help as Ryan laughed, exasperated. Sawyer stepped back to the car and helped heft her up and out of the vehicle. April tumbled out of the window, slipping on the snow. She sat there for a long moment before Ryan extended a hand to her, trying to help her up; but she refused, too stubborn to admit that she had lost. Still sobbing, she eventually righted herself, but rather than walking uphill toward the cabin with the boys, she pointed herself downhill instead.

“Where are you going?” Sawyer asked her.

“Home!” she yelled back.

Sawyer tipped his head up to the sky—
God save me—
and groaned. Ryan paused in his ascent and stood next to him, looking back at April as she stumbled through shin-deep powder.

“Are you going to get her?” he asked.

“No,” Sawyer said. “Let her walk it off.”

Ryan shrugged and turned back up the hill, he and Sawyer slogging through the snow.

“I can’t believe you actually asked her,” Ryan said after a while.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Sawyer said. “Seriously, don’t ever bring that up again.”

A
pril wiped at her eyes as she stumbled through the snow. She cursed herself for crying, the cold air stinging her cheeks as she staggered into the featureless landscape. Swiping at her eyes with her sleeves, she swallowed her sobs, wondering whether she had overreacted; maybe what she had sensed between Sawyer and Jane had been nothing but her own jealousy, insecurity, imagination. It wasn’t as though she’d caught them in the shadows of an empty room.

But the way he looked at her, the way his voice went softer when he spoke to her; it made April’s heart ache. She could see it plainly on Jane’s face: she and Sawyer were sharing some hidden secret.

The snow was deep, nearly up to her knees in places, but she was determined to keep going, if only until her heart untwisted itself. She had no idea how she was going to face any of them again. She’d embarrassed herself, especially with Ryan, sobbing like some hysteric. But the emotion had overwhelmed her—a deluge of frustration that had splintered into temporary insanity. And now Sawyer’s Jeep was stuck in a ravine, they were snowed in for God knows how long. Those people wouldn’t want anything to do with her again. And Sawyer…

Another sob burst from between her lips.

The way he had taken back the ring, no protest, no anything—Sawyer wouldn’t marry her now. She had seen the look on his face, uncertainty veiling a ghost of relief. She had shown
him the darkest part of herself—the anger and jealousy that occasionally took hold of her, consuming her like a fire. It had startled him, and now he’d call the whole thing off, baby or not.

With the snow as deep as it was, each step was an effort. Her expectation of reaching the highway began to dwindle. Her toes began to burn. She wondered whether this was how it felt to be lost, alone, spiraling toward some inevitable fate. The endless expanse of white, the silence, the solitude were overwhelming. She stifled another cry, twisting to look over her shoulder. The road leading up to the cabin was gone, and she wouldn’t have had any idea which direction she had come from had it not been for her tracks. But it was that path that pushed her forward despite the cold. When Sawyer became worried enough, it would be easy to find her. And that was what she wanted. Despite her anger, she wanted him to see how far she’d stalked away from the house—that distance representing the hurt he’d caused. She wanted to hear him call her name, to follow her into the emptiness, to grab her by the shoulders and shake her, a classic black-and-white movie moment.
Damn it, April, don’t you know I love you?
And then she’d crumple in his arms. All would be forgiven. She’d apologize, beg him to take her back.

A spark of irritation bit at her heart. He should beg her to take
him
back. This was his fault. He was the one who had made her suspicious. Narrowing her eyes against the glare of the snow, she pushed onward, defiant. Despite her thick woolen socks, her feet burned inside her boots. Her hands hurt, and she cupped them over her mouth and blew against the thinness of her gloves. Glancing over her shoulder again, she saw movement. A spark of elation warmed her from the inside out. He was coming to get her.

If she hadn’t seen the shadows shift behind her at that very moment, she would have started back toward the cabin despite
her reluctance. She was starting to freeze, but he was on his way, and she was going to make it as difficult as possible for him to catch up to her. The harder it was for him, the more overjoyed they’d be to be back together.

She picked up her pace, pushing off trees, throwing her weight forward, making her footfalls swifter. There was a clearing ahead and she pictured it in her head—summertime, an expanse of grass and wildflowers. If they had only waited seven months from now, they could have come to the mountains when it was warm, packed up a picnic lunch and walked to this very clearing, a baby tucked into the crook of April’s arm. Sawyer would have brought his guitar. They would have flown kites and woven dandelions into crowns and done all the hippie bullshit that made April roll her eyes. Yet somehow, standing in the cold, seeing the clearing covered in snow, she yearned for warmth, for bologna sandwiches and lemonade and a semblance of family that, up until then, she had never had. A picnic in the mountains didn’t sound so bad as long as he was by her side. She was tired of being damaged. She was ready to let it all go.

She turned back toward Sawyer. Despite their differences, she
did
love him, she
wanted
to get married, she was glad the baby was his.

But there was nobody behind her. The shadow she’d seen shifted every now and again was still there, lurking. Was he just watching her, making sure that she didn’t go too far?

“Sawyer?” She called the name into the silence, nothing but the howl of wind high up above.

The shadow froze when her voice left her throat.

“Sawyer,” she repeated. “Please…I’m sorry. That was crazy. I just…this trip has been hard for me. I got overwhelmed.” Her feet were really hurting now. She could hardly feel her toes.

Her nerves buzzed when the shadow shifted once more, because it wasn’t the same shadow she’d been watching. She swallowed against a wave of anxiety. Sawyer wouldn’t have come out here alone. It was probably Ryan. They had been following her all this time. But why hadn’t she heard them talking? Why had they let her come this far?

Because it’s not them
, she thought.

Worst-case scenarios spiraled through her head. She had wandered onto someone’s property and the landowner was a psychopath, horror-movie insane. Maybe he lived out in the middle of nowhere because out in the middle of nowhere there wasn’t anyone around to hear the screams. Maybe some maniac had heard her yelling Sawyer’s name, had followed her out here, and was waiting for the perfect time to strike. That was where the blood along the side of the road had come from—some crazy killer ready to slit her throat.

“Hello?” Barely a whisper.

She was an idiot. She should have sucked it up, marched back to the cabin, locked herself upstairs for the rest of the weekend. Her breath hitched in her throat. A third shadow shifted beneath the shade of the trees.

“Sawyer?” The name quavered, fear punctuating its syllables.

No response.

It wasn’t him.

She turned away, her breaths coming in gasps now. Those shadows were blocking her way back to the house. She started to walk again, determined to put distance between herself and the trees. Maybe her stalker would back off, not wanting to come into the clearing. Maybe if she screamed loud enough Sawyer would hear her back at the cabin. He and Ryan would find her. They had to. She couldn’t be that far away.