Not that he appeared at all interested in enlightening her on what.
Fine. She could read between the lines somewhat and she’d get to the bottom of this in her usual way—-on her own. For now, he’d turned off the engine to preserve gas, and now it was cold and quickly getting colder. She pulled a blanket from her bag.
He snorted but when she looked at him, he was staring out the windshield, jaw tight, eyes hard, one hand draped over the wheel, the other fisted on a thigh. She figured he was made of stone but she lifted up one end of her blanket in offer. “Cold?” she asked.
“No.”
Sensing the thick tension, Carl whined softly.
Rory reached out to test--touch Max’s hand.
Cold.
“Seriously?” she asked him and spread half the blanket over his legs.
He didn’t help her but when she was finished, she found him staring at her like she was a puzzle and he was missing half the pieces.
But she was the one who didn’t understand. And she was done not knowing. “So,” she said tentatively. “You didn’t take your scholarship?”
He closed his eyes for a beat and shook his head. “Why do you keep saying things like that when you know damn well what happened?”
Okay so no, he hadn’t taken the scholarship, and she got a feeling in the pit of her stomach that she’d been the direct cause.
Carl whined again.
“Forget it,” Max told him. “I’m not letting you out again.”
“Max,” she said. “I—-”
“Finally.” He pointed ahead, where the blockades were being removed.
Max cranked over the engine and rolled his window down when a CHP officer came close.
“Don’t know how long we’ll have the roads open,” the guy told them. “It’s looking grim.”
“Thanks,” Max said. “We’ll be careful.”
And he was. So careful it felt like they were going backward. Rory looked at her phone.
No reception, which meant she couldn’t call her stepdad and warn him she’d be late. It was still snowing, it was tense, there was no one else on the road . . . All that, along with the rhythmic slashing of the windshield wipers and the soft blast of the heater left her feeling exhausted. She closed her eyes.
And then jerked upright when the truck slowed and then came to a stop off the side of the road.
She wasn’t sure how much time had passed. The snow had been steadily gathering, over a foot now, she saw with some alarm. They’d pulled up behind a small SUV that was leaning awkwardly due to a blown tire.
“Stay here,” Max said.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
He spared her a look as he pulled up his hoodie. “Going to help them out.”
He said it like it was his problem the SUV was in trouble. Like he could no more pass another car in need of assistance than he could stop inhaling and exhaling air for his lungs.
“But—-” she started. But nothing, because he was already gone. She watched him trudge through the snow, lit by his high beams, toward the other SUV.
Two -people got out to greet him, an older -couple by the looks of them. They spoke to Max, who nodded. Even smiled. He said something to the older man, patted the woman reassuringly on the arm and . . . went to the back of his truck, probably for tools.
“He’s going to say he doesn’t need anything from me,” she said to Carl. “But we’re going to offer to help anyway.” She pulled her wet sweater and jacket back on and slid out of the truck, smiling at the -couple. She moved toward Max, on his knees in the snow now, wrenching off the bad tire with easy strength and ability.
He could be such an ass. But he was also selfless. Kind. Funny. Well, at least with everyone else anyway.
The older woman smiled and shook her head at Rory. “We’re so grateful that you stopped. We’ve been here for an hour with no cell ser-vice. We couldn’t call for help. Our kids and grandkids will be so worried.”
Rory managed a smile around a suddenly tight throat. Would her family be worried? Or would they just assume she’d flaked yet again? “You have a big family?”
“You might say so.” The woman laughed. “Six kids. Twelve grandkids.” She laughed again at the look on Rory’s face. “We’ve been together since the dawn of time, you see.” She looked toward the men, shaking hands now since Max was already finished, and beamed. “And after all these years, he still makes my heart flutter.”
“That’s incredibly sweet,” Rory said.
The older woman squeezed her hand. “Whatever you two are arguing about, my dear, you can work it out.”
Rory looked at her, startled. “How do you know we’re arguing?”
“Since the dawn of time, remember? I know the signs.” She smiled. “Would you like a hint on how to fix it?”
Rory looked into her kind eyes. “Yes, please.”
“You use the past to fix the now,” she said. “You make your mistakes—-which is allowed, by the way. After all, you’re only human, but you learn from them. Grow from them. Things can’t always be forgotten, but they can be forgiven.”