Precious And Fragile Things. Megan Hart

gave me no choice. I have to get home to my kids. My husband’s probably worried sick.”

      Todd shrugged. “Neither one of us will be going anywhere until this snow melts. Not without the truck. We’re pretty much fucked.”

      Gilly went back to the bed and sat. “I want to go home.”

      His face went hard, the soft, dark eyes bitter. He threw her own words back at her. “Maybe you should’ve thought about that before.”

      Don’t lose it…

      But it was already lost.

      “Fuck you! You think I don’t know that? Fuck you, Todd!” Gilly shrieked, lurching to her feet with fists flailing.

      If she’d aimed for his face she probably wouldn’t have hit him, but one of her wild swings caught him just under the eye. Todd stumbled back, muttering curses. The wound she’d inflicted on him earlier broke open, oozing blood. Gilly stood her ground, fists clenched and teeth chattering, ready to batter him again.

      He reached out, quick as a cat, and grabbed her shoulders. He shook her like one does a naughty child, or a pet, each shake emphasizing a word. “That’s twice. Don’t do it again.”

      “Or what?” she cried. “What could you possibly do that’s worse than what you’ve already done?”

      Todd stared at her with a flat black gaze for too long before answering, “I could do worse.”

      He let her go so suddenly she stumbled back, her aggression puffed out like a breath-blown match. They were at a standoff. Gilly rubbed the sore spots his fingers had left, just a few more to add to the plethora already aching all over her.

      Without another word, Todd went down the stairs. She went to the window again and stared out at the vast expanse of blankness. Even the trees had been covered in heavy quilts of white, blurring their lines and making them nothing more than vague humps. She wasn’t going anywhere until that melted. Perhaps as early as March or as late as April, but April was three months away.