Blood Witch_ Book Three - Cate Tiernan [43]
“Are you sure?” she pressed.
“I’ll be fine,” I mumbled.
Without another word she rolled up her window and took off. I noticed that she accelerated slowly so she wouldn’t splatter me with snow and slush.
My chest ached as I walked home.
My parents fussed over me, which was nice. I told them I’d skidded off the road on a bad patch of ice, which was true in a way, but I left out the part about the other car behind me. I didn’t want to worry them any more than necessary. I called a tow truck company, who agreed to get Das Boot and bring it home later that night. Thank the Goddess for Triple A, I thought and decided to ask for a cell phone for Christmas.
“Are you sure you don’t want to come for Chinese with us?” Mom asked, after making sure I had thawed. My parents were heading out to meet Aunt Eileen and Paula, to drive by several houses that were for sale in the area, then to get dinner. They wouldn’t be back till late. Mary K. was at Jaycee’s, and I was sure she was meeting Bakker later.
“No, thanks,” I said. “I’ll just wait for the tow truck.”
Mom kissed me. “I am so thankful you’re okay. You could’ve been hurt so easily,” she said, and I hugged her back. It was true, I realized. I really could have been hurt. If it had happened at another section of the road, I could have gone into a thirty-foot ravine. An image popped into my mind of Das Boot tumbling down a rocky cliff, then bursting into flames—and I cringed.
After Mom and Dad left, I set a pot of water on to boil for frozen ravioli. I grabbed a Diet Coke, and the phone rang. I knew it was Cal.
“Hello there,” he said. “We’re taking a little break. What are you doing?”
“Fixing some dinner.” It was incredible: I still felt a little shaky, even though the mere sound of Cal’s voice worked wonders. “I, um, had a little accident.”
“What?” His voice was sharp with concern. “Are you okay?”
“It wasn’t anything,” I said bravely. “I just went off the road and ended up in a ditch. I’m waiting for the tow truck to bring Das Boot home.”
“Really? Why didn’t you call me?”
I smiled, feeling much better as I dumped a bunch of ravioli into the water. “I guess I was still recovering. I’m okay, though. I didn’t hurt anything except my car. And I knew you were busy, anyway.”
He was quiet for a moment. “Next time something happens, call me right away,” he said.
I laughed. If it had been anyone else, I would have said they were overreacting. “I’ll try not to do it again,” I said.
“I wish I could come see you,” he said, sounding frustrated. “But we’re doing a circle here and it’s about to start. Lousy timing. I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine. Don’t worry so much.” I sighed and stirred the pot. “You know, I . . .” I left the sentence hanging. I was going to tell him about seeing Bree, about all of my terrible fears and suspicions, but I didn’t. I couldn’t bear to reopen the wound, to allow all those painful emotions to come flooding back.
“You what?” Cal asked.
“Nothing,” I murmured.
“You’re sure?”
“Yeah.”
He sighed, too. “Well, okay. I should probably go. My mom is starting to do her stuff. I’m not sure how late this will go—I might not be able to call you later. And you know we don’t pick up the phone if it rings during a circle, so you won’t be able to call me.”
“That’s okay,” I said. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Oh, tomorrow,” said Cal, sounding brighter. “The famous pre-birthday day. Yeah, I have special plans for tomorrow.”
I laughed, wondering what plans he had made. Then he made a silly kissing noise into the phone, and we hung up.
Alone and quiet, I ate my dinner. It felt soothing to be by myself and not have to talk. In the living room I noticed a basket full of fatwood by the fireplace. In just a few minutes I had a good blaze going, and I fetched Maeve’s BOS from upstairs and settled on the couch. My mom’s one crocheting attempt had resulted in an incredibly ugly afghan the size and weight of a dead mule. I pulled it over me. Within moments