The Real(46)

“The Bears won.”

“Something else.”

“We’re still sitting on three-quarters of a tank of gas.”

“Wonderful.”

“We won’t freeze to death.”

“That’s reassuring in a terrifying way,” I said, swallowing.

“It’s a real possibility if we don’t get the hell out of here.”

“Cameron, please don’t try to leave me here alone.”

He nodded. “We can’t be far from the cabin. Check your phone for a signal.”

I pulled my phone out of my pocket and saw I still had zero bars.

“Nothing. Yours?”

He pulled his phone out and shook his head.

“How in the hell was I supposed to work out here?”

“I was told there was WIFI. Abbie, if I can make it to the main road—”

“You aren’t going out in a blizzard with zero visibility. It’s not happening. I’m not that bossy of a girlfriend, I promise, but I’m not swaying on this shit.”

“Okay,” he said with a chuckle.

“Okay.”

He pressed his full lips together, trying to stifle a laugh. “How mad are you?”

“On a scale of one to ten?”

“Yes.”

I looked out the window and shook my head. “I’m really not. I just want us to get through this and have our weekend. I could use a steak.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No more apologizing. If I must be stuck here, I’d rather it be with you. You know that.”

“I do now.”

“Cameron,” I said with a sigh.

“Yeah?”

“This was really sweet. Even if you are going to indirectly kill me in the woods.”

He reached out a hand and brushed some hair away from my face. “I won’t let anything happen to you. I swear it.”

“I believe you believe that.”

“You don’t think it’s true?”

“I think you’d do everything you can to make it true. But you can’t promise me anything bad won’t happen. It’s not in your power.”

“You’re right.”

“I don’t want to be,” I said in a whisper, “but I know better.”

“Well, I can promise you this,” he whispered back. “I can promise you I will never bring you to the woods again as a surprise and end up stuck in a fucking creepy dead-end driveway in a snowstorm.”

I laughed and pulled him to me. “Good enough.”

“God, you smell so fucking good. What is that?”

“My shampoo, I think. I don’t know. I have an entire bathroom counter of girly crap on.”

“It’s fucking tasty.”

“Tasty?”

“Yes, you smell good enough to eat.”

My stomach rumbled.

“And you’re hungry,” he said, gripping the wheel and rocking back and forth in aggravation, jostling me in his lap.

“Look at you,” I said with a laugh. “Getting all moody. I bet you’re sexy pissed off.”

“I just feel like I could be doing more. What in the hell was I thinking? I live in Chicago and forgot to get snow tires! In my defense, I bought this out of state.”

I laughed as he looked at me, exasperated.

“I’m telling you, Coach, people have no business outside of civilization. Nothing good ever happens in the woods. This is where the crazies come to congregate, multiply, and plot.”

“You don’t really believe that, do you?” Cameron asked. “You think that concrete jungle we call home is safer?”

“I think that if we were in Chicago right now we wouldn’t be sitting targets in the middle of the woods.”

“Even so, Chicago is the most dangerous city in the US. Talk about safety in numbers being an illusion.”

I shrugged. “I have mace.”

“Well, that changes everything.” He rolled his eyes.

“You aren’t safe anywhere, with anyone,” I said with a bite. “The BTK killer was married. Like happily married and no one knew what a psycho he was for over a decade. Bind, Torture, Kill, and go home and eat meatloaf before you read the kids a bedtime story. Doesn’t that baffle you? Like, how do you ever really know someone?”

“You have to trust them.”

“Trusting doesn’t mean knowing, two distinct definitions,” I said with a little more bite.

“Abbie?”

I shook my head. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

“But you did, so tell me.”

“No,” I said, feigning a smile.

“That smile was fake. This is on your mind. Talk to me about it.”

“That’s not part of our deal,” I said, moving to my seat before I began nervously messing with the vents.

“How long are we going to do this?” he asked, turning in his seat to face me. “Why can’t I know?”

“We agreed.”

“That was then,” he pressed. “This isn’t a game.”

“It’s never been a game to me,” I defended. “And I told you that.”