I wake up with a start in my uncomfortable double bed in the hotel room. For a moment, I’m completely disoriented. I have no idea where I am. But then it all comes rushing back to me. Where I am. What I’ve done.
I sit up in bed, my heart pounding.
I’ve got to get out of here.
I look at my wrist watch—it’s close to nine o’clock. I don’t know how I managed to sleep so late when I was hardly sleeping at all. But I can’t even waste a second getting back on the road. I don’t have time to attempt to get the television to work to check out the news. I’ll listen to it on the car radio.
I hit the bathroom to empty my bladder and splash some water on my face. When I look at my reflection in the mirror, I flinch. I look awful. My blond hair is at least dry by now, but it looks like it was cut with… well, with a pair of scissors in somebody’s bathroom. The strands are limp and lifeless, and there are dark purple circles under my eyes. I look like I’ve aged ten years overnight.
But the worst part is I still look like me. Yes, a bedraggled version of me, but I’m still clearly Quinn Alexander. If anybody saw a photograph of me, I’m recognizable, even with my hair hacked off.
I don’t know what to do to change my appearance. In the short term, I need to buy some hair dye. Something dark, but not a black color that will draw attention. And I can try to pack on some weight, although I can’t imagine how I’ll accomplish that when I have no money for food.
Anyway, I’ll figure it out later. Right now, I’ve got to get out of here.
As I pull on my blue jeans, I hear a rap at the door. My heart thuds in my chest. Is it the police? Have they come looking for me? But then I hear Nick’s voice.
“Kelly?”
“Hang on!” I grab my socks off the radiator. They’re very stiff, but warm and dry. I stuff my feet into them and run a hand through my hacked off hair. “Coming!”
I crack open the door, and Nick is standing there, holding a plate of food. It appears to be scrambled eggs and a few slices of crisp bacon. My stomach growls at the sight of it.
“Sorry to disturb you…” He looks pointedly at the sign hung from my doorknob. “But I made you some breakfast. I figured you’d be hungry.”
He’s right. At the sight of the plate of food, my stomach groans painfully. The eggs are brown, but I couldn’t care less. I could devour them in one bite. “Thanks. I’m going to get on the road pretty soon though.”
Nick’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline. “On the road?”
“Yeah…” I glance out the window. “The snow stopped, right?”
“Right, but…” He frowns. “We’re buried. I can’t get a plow to come out here till the late afternoon. I don’t see where you parked, but unless you’ve got a huge truck, I don’t see how you’re getting out of here.”
My stomach sinks. “Are you serious?”
He shifts between his feet. “I’m sorry. I can try calling the plow company again. But we got about two feet of snow here last night…”
No, no, no… this can’t be happening. I’ve got to get out of here. “Maybe I could dig out my car.”
“Uh…”
I grip the white plate in my hands, my appetite suddenly gone. “Would you help me?”
“Help you?”
“Help dig me out.” I’m gripping the plate so hard, it feels like it might shatter in my hands. “I’ve got to get out of here today. Please.”
“Uh…” Nick glances over my shoulder, out the window at the blinding white snow coating absolutely everything. “I guess we can try, but there’s a lot of snow out there. Where did you park anyway? You’re not in the lot right outside.”
“I parked by that diner. The one that’s boarded up.”
“Okay.” He lifts his shoulders. “We can give it a shot.” He looks down at my feet. “You got boots?”
Of course I don’t have boots. I didn’t even have freaking socks. “No. It’s fine though.”
He rubs the stubble on his jaw. “Let me borrow a pair from Rosalie. You look like you’re about the same size.”
Something about borrowing a pair of boots from his sick wife makes me feel a little uneasy. “It’s fine.”
“It’s not fine. There’s a lot of snow out there. You’re going to lose a toe if you don’t have a pair of decent boots on.”