I demand with flailing angry hands and narrowed eyes.
The car is silent other than the hum of tires on pavement and the sound of the wind moaning an ominous tune outside the confines of the car. The sun is setting, and in its multi-hued light, I study Rogan’s face, the tic in his jaw, the glare he’s wearing, the vexation etched in his masculine features. The longer he says nothing, the more it speaks to me.
Is the witch emergency that he’s jealous? Is that really what this comes down to?
A jolt of shock slams through me as that conclusion forms in my mind. I watch his profile intently as though the denial of my thoughts will be evident in his frown or the agitated blink of an eye, but it’s not there. I don’t know why this potential discovery surprises me so much; it’s not like I’m hideous or repellant in any way, I just didn’t know Rogan had the depth. If he saw me as anything, I’d have thought it was simply as some kind of stepping stone in the path to finding his brother and nothing more.
I open my mouth to say something, to demand to know if envy is really the foundation of his irritation and what that means. But before I say a word, the wind releases a furious howl, and the next thing I know, something slams into the side of us, and we go spinning out of control.
17
It all happens so fast I don’t even have time to scream. One second I’m debating if Rogan might like me and how I feel about that, and then suddenly everything is spinning, and squealing, and terrifying.
Rogan shouts, but it’s lost to the sound and feel of airbags exploding all around me. We’re shoved off the road with what feels like hurricane levels of force. It’s as though Mother Nature just lost her shit and swatted us away like some pesky fly. I’m scared and disoriented as the car tilts precariously, and then all at once, we’re flipping down an embankment toward a steep line of large trees.
I feel like I’m stuck in some amusement ride from hell, my stomach turning in time with the car as I’m jerked and jostled mercilessly. Glass shatters and falls all over me, and I try to shield my face as I catch a glimpse of the dusk-kissed sky only for it to be ripped away as we continue to tumble, dirt and debris exploding all around me.
Odd keening-like grunts escape my mouth with each terrible revolution of the car. It’s as if we’re spinning so fast that it’s trapped a scream in my throat and won’t let it out. Black dances in the corners of my vision, but just as it dares to come closer, we slam—with a sickening thud and the squeals of bending metal—against something and jerk to a stop.
My bones crack and splinter from the impact as the car quivers and settles against what I suspect is a tree trunk or maybe a rock. Pain explodes through me, dulling my senses, and I blink sluggishly, as I slowly realize that I’m hanging upside down. Curls fall all around my face, and warmth trickles from the side of my head, spreading slowly up into my hair. Finally the torque of our brutal spin releases its hold on my throat, but the scream that was held hostage there dies, and a muddled moan crawls out of my lips in its place.
Ticks and pops sound off all around me as what’s left of the car settles. All I can do is breathe.
In and out.
In and out.
I pull air into my chest, ignoring the bite in my ribs, and release it as I try to clear my mind enough to come up with a now what. Questions flash through my mind, demanding to know what could have done this and how, but I push them back and focus on what needs immediate attention.
“Rogan?” I squeak pitifully as I reach out and work to clear my line of sight of airbag fabric, hair, and dirt.
My own pained moan accompanies my efforts as I struggle to move, and panic starts to race inside of me when he doesn’t answer. It takes me a moment to get my bearings. I feel like I’m in the back seat somehow, but I know I’m still buckled in the passenger seat like I was before what felt like Mother Nature’s beatdown.
The dashboard in front of me is