Page 10 of Hell Bent (Portland Devils #5)

“Traded in my car for it. BMW, present from my parents. My mother buys German cars, because of the princess deal, and my grandparents never did, because of the German deal. I bought the pickup wearing my sequined dress, alongside my ancient, tiny, beautifully dressed grandmother. Boy, was the salesman surprised. He tried to get me to pay a good $5K too much for it, too. I guess women in sequins aren’t respected. ”

“How’d you hitch up the fifth wheel?” he asked.

“How do you think? I used to have a pickup, before I slotted into my mother’s life plan. I know how. And, yes, I could feel guilty about the gift-car, but … ”

“But a present is a present. You hooked it up in heels, though?”

I waved a fry dismissively. “I still had a pair of rubber boots for gardening at my grandmother’s, and it’s not that hard to hook up a fifth wheel, even in a sparkly dress, if you’ve got the hitch in the bed and know how to attach your cables.

All you have to do is be able to back up straight.

I bought a truck with the tow package and a hitch already installed.

Used, of course, so fingers crossed I make it out of the state. ”

“You’re a capable woman,” he said.

“Don’t sound so surprised.”

“So you hooked up your fifth wheel and took off. With no plan.”

“That’s about the size of it. Look,” I tried to explain, “my mom just about had hysterics. She didn’t have hysterics, because she’s too well bred for that, but she came close.

My phone kept buzzing and buzzing until I turned it off.

I wanted to throw it out the window and possibly drive over it.

I may have come close to hysterics. I kept thinking that Christmas is about two weeks away, which means family time with the parents who’ll never be able to show their faces at the ballet again and can’t believe you did this.

Oh, shoot. I need to send back all the presents. How could I forget that? I should?—”

I was standing up, and Sebastian was saying, “Hey. No. Sit down.”

“You don’t tell me to sit down,” I said. “I’m an?—”

“Yeah, I know. A princess in all her power. I get it. But you chose to talk it out, which presumably includes feedback. At least let me give you feedback before you turn the truck around.”

I sat down, folded my arms, and said, “Not because I’m a princess. Because I have agency. But OK. Go. What’s your feedback that will make this all right? ”

“You’re a dream to argue with,” he said, and I had to laugh, which made him grin, and that was better. “Here’s a concept for you,” he went on. “The presents were to both of you, right?”

“Right.”

“And you moved in with him, which means they’re in his place, right?”

“Also right,” I said. “I’m liking this feedback idea.”

“Who wrote the thank-you notes?” he asked.

“Me. Are you kidding? I was raised well. Of course I wrote them. Hundreds of them. We had an invitation list of almost five hundred people. Five. Frigging. Hundred. That condo is full of things. Drowning in things. Monogrammed thousand-thread-count sheets. Frette Egyptian cotton towels at two hundred dollars a pop. Hand-painted Arhaus dinnerware. That’s actually practical, and beautiful, too, so I’m a little sorry about that one.

Hestan Nanobond cookware. I know I should be grateful for all of it, but?—”

“But you’re a woman who’s been living in a fifth wheel. And not a big one.”

“Yes. I got totally overwhelmed by all of it, but that shouldn’t make me ungrateful. People went out of their way to give me that stuff.”

“To give both of you that stuff. Which means he can send them all back,” Sebastian said. “He’s the one who’s there, and you wrote all the notes. Just think—he can add his own note with every present saying what a bitch you were for leaving him at the altar. Good times.”

“He could,” I said. “Whether he will … I have the list of what everyone gave on my phone. I could forward it to him, I guess.”

“Yes, you could.”

“On the other hand,” I said, “I’m the one who broke it off, so that’s not really fair.

My mother will end up doing it if I don’t go back.

Ned loves my mother. He’ll love her more if she takes all those presents off his hands.

I need to call her. I can’t just dump it on her.

I can’t—” I was getting some more of the panic.

“Text somebody tonight so she knows you’re safe, and call her when you’re ready,” Sebastian said. “She’ll probably be worried about you, but you don’t have to go into it all tonight.”

“Cowardly,” I said, “but I’ll take that advice.

” I rubbed my hands between my thighs. “I’m supposed to be back in school in January, too, and that fills me with more dread—and it’s my last year!

I’m almost done, but … but something is wrong, and there’s no space in my head to figure out what. I had to leave, all right?”

“All right,” he said. “So what happens now?”

I shrugged. “I drive. I figure it out. Or I don’t, and I muddle along until I do figure it out.”

“Alone,” he said.

“Yes, alone. I can handle alone. I need alone.”

He held up both hands. “Fine. Your choice.”

“Well, thank you.”

When he reached out and touched my face, I froze, a french fry halfway to my mouth. He rubbed the place between my eyes where my mother always told me I’d get wrinkles and said, “You impress me.”

I couldn’t move. “I do?”

“Yeah. You do. That took guts. All of it. Most women would be crying and drinking.”

“Ha,” I said. “The night is young.”

Sebastian

I walked her back to her truck, and she turned at the door and said, “I’d better get going. Thanks for the burger.” In jeans and a long-sleeved tee, looking lithe and strong and like a woman with a plan. And, of course, that ass.

Hey, there’s only so noble I can be.

I said, “You know—I need to make my destination sometime tomorrow, but I don’t need to get there overnight. We could get a hotel room—two, if you like—pick up a bottle, let you do that drinking. Get some sleep.”

She jerked back so fast, she banged into the truck, then recovered herself. “No,” she said. “I need to get out of the state. I need to?—”

I said, “Hey,” and when she’d stopped talking, “It was just a suggestion. Go on and go.”

She hesitated. “I do appreciate your help. Picking out clothes and all that. Getting a burger. Talking it over. It was good to tell somebody.”

“You don’t have to say thanks.” I knew my face was hard, but I couldn’t help it. “You’re not required to have sex with me, if that’s what that’s about. I said two rooms. Do what you have to do.” She hesitated, and I said, “Go on. Take off. You owe me nothing.”

She opened her door, then turned and said, “One thing.”

“Yeah?”

“Good luck with the dog,” she said. “You’re a good person.”

I said, “Good luck with the new life,” watched her climb into the truck and lock her door, then climbed into my own car, where the dog, who’d been in the back seat, wagged her tail, lunged forward, and licked my elbow in a polite way while I scratched her ears.

“I’m a good person,” I told the dog. “Whoopee. Guess that’s how princesses roll.”