I'm not going to cry. I'm not. It's not worth it. None of this shit is.
"She's got the wedding with your sister, her events at the country club, and me to deal with. It's too much for her. You know she doesn't do well with stress. Help me and stop being a drain on her, okay?" His tone softened a little, but not nearly enough. I was at fault for my mother having a rough day, though I'd done nothing to cause it.
"I'm sorry. I'll do better." I squeezed my eyes closed as the familiar sting of tears arrived.
"I know you will, kiddo. Get that leadership role in the Gammas like your mother wants you to. It's a Scott tradition, and you know it would help ease the tension between the two of you. You haven't even tried."
"Alright." He was wrong, but there was no telling him that. When riled up, he was almost worse than my mother.
"I love you, pumpkin. Be safe, and no driving that piece of shit car you have until I can get the transmission checked. Okay?"
"Yep." I let him say his goodbyes before hanging up the phone and tossing it on the bed beside me. The car had acted up once in the last two years, and my dad was being overly precautious about it. He didn't agree with my mother's refusal to buy me something new, but he wasn't going against her. No one did.
I rolled onto my side and pressed my hands to my face as a sob left me. I hadn't had a good cry in months, so maybe it was time to let it all out and hope that I could put myself back together when it was over.
It wasn't the car that needed attention from them. It was me.
*
I hadn't been on the road for more than twenty minutes when the lights on the dashboard lit up and the car started to jerk. Fear washed over me in a large wave, and I pulled over without hesitation. The last thing I needed was to lose control and have the tires lock up. The ice and snow all over the road made things dangerous enough as it was.
After taking a few deep breaths in hopes of slowing my racing heart, I turned the car off and let it sit idle for a minute. My worst nightmare roared to life as I tried to start it back up and nothing happened. I'd have to call my parents to come help me.
"Surely not. Please start. Please. Come on, baby. Please." I rubbed the dash and tried to start it again. Nothing. Not even a sputter or a choke. Nothing.
"Fuck. Really?" I got my phone out of my purse and called my sister Allison first. She and I were close and though she'd been everything Mom and Dad had wanted in a kid, she was humble about it all. They rubbed it in my face, but she never did. I hung up when the call went to voicemail. There was no need to get everyone involved in my business.
My dad told me not to drive the car, and of course, I didn't listen. The fact that it was snowing like crazy and below freezing didn't help much.
I sat there, staring at the phone for a few minutes as the car started to grow cold. I would freeze to death before someone found me if I didn't get a move on with finding a solution, but that didn't sound nearly as bad as calling my parents.
"It's the engine. The transmission I think he said." I pulled the button to the hood and got out of the car as the icy winter wind slammed into me. "Shit."
I had no clue what I was doing, but like anyone else with little to no sense at all, I walked to the front of the car and popped the hood. My large winter coat helped to stave off the freezing cold, but my fingers burned with stiffness almost immediately.
I looked around the engine at the various wires and parts, searching for some quick fix on the car, yet having no fucking idea what to even look for. The sound of someone pulling up behind me gave me a jolt of hope, and I moved around to my side of the car as a dark figure parked his bike behind the car and walked toward me.
"Car trouble?" His voice was deep and slightly raspy.
"Nope. I just decided to hang out for the night. I was going to start a fire and roast marshmallows. You want a s’more?" I kicked myself internally for being an ass. What’s wrong with me?
"Right." His warm brown eyes caught my attention. He was handsome, but didn't look like the kind of guy who cared much for looks – or anything else for that matter. "Let me check the engine. Is it turning over at all?"
"Turning over?" I moved up beside him and tried not to notice how good he smelled. Various tattoos danced down his arms and played peekaboo under the collar of his heavy leather jacket.
He pulled off his gloves and shoved them in his pocket as he turned and studied me. He was rough looking, but incredibly sexy. The strength of his gaze left me wanting to blush, but it wasn't intimate, just probing. He was looking for answers about the car and nothing else.
"Turning over? No. I just pulled it to the side. It didn't flip or even skid, really." I kept my tone unfriendly, though I hated myself for doing it. Here the guy was willing to help me in the middle of a snowstorm, and I was acting like a bitch. It was a defense mechanism. I hated strangers simply for the fact that like everyone else in my life, they were probably judging me.
"No, princess. Not flipping over. When you try and start the car, does it make a sound?" He stood up and lifted his dark eyebrow at me. "Go try and start it for me."
"Princess?" I grumbled as I walked back to the car and got in. The image of his face stayed with me as I tried to start the car and nothing happened. He had short brown hair trimmed tightly to his head and the makings of a five o'clock shadow. I wanted to know his name, but it wasn't for the right reasons, so I wouldn't be asking.
He tapped on the window, and I opened the door.
"It's the battery. It's completely dead." He lifted his hands to his mouth and breathed into them. "Did you know that your back tire is going flat, too?"
"No." I let out a sigh and worked to not act nearly as dramatic as I wanted to. "Okay. Well, thanks, anyway. I appreciate you stopping."