Going 78 Miles Per Hour | ✓

41 | Bridge Ice Before Road (Part One)

LUNES
7:19 AM

Reid Harlow

Me: Hey, I'm going to be at a cabin with the family for the rest of the week. Idk if I'm going to have cell service, but if you can't reach me, just know I'm not trying to ignore you.

I don't even know if she's even fucking awake, first of all. It's bright and early in the morning, the sun barely rising from under the horizon, and we're stuck in a wooden cabin up in the mountains, completely submerged in snow. Everyone is unloading their luggage from the car, dragging it inside the house.

"Harlow," Nini calls, holding out my luggage for me—a black duffel bag she bought for me a couple of weeks ago—and nodding her head towards the wooden cabin. "You should go inside and pick a bedroom. It's first come, first serve."

"I don't fucking care what bedroom I get," I said, coming towards her and slipping the strap around my shoulders. I glance back down at my phone, the message still sending. "Do we get service up here?"

"I don't know," Nini said, with an apologetic smile. "Claudia picked the spot, so I'm not sure. Are you trying to reach someone?"

"Yeah, Dahlia," I huff, watching the blue line drag across the screen, not completely finishing. It's fucking annoying. "I thought I could at least send her a text before I had to give up technology."

"Darling, we're not giving up technology," she offers delicately, drawing my attention away from the device. "We're just on a break. You can still use it—Sebastian and I have no objections about that—but, remember, we're trying to spend some family time together."

My first response was to snap back, argue that I don't want to spend any fucking family time with them. I don't see them as my family. Maybe even slip in that they probably won't even want me when I turn eighteen, and the foster checks dry out.

But, I don't.

I watch Nini return back to the trunk, reaching over to grab another luggage, a bigger suitcase that's probably the size of her. She struggles, her arms trembling as she pulls on the handle, dragging the bag of belongings towards the edge of the trunk. I sigh.

I walk around, my feet dragging against the snow, and I reach out to pull the handle on the suitcase. I slightly shove Nini out of the way, grabbing the bag and dropping it onto the ground, the shoveled pathway a few steps away.

"Where do you want this fucking thing?" I ask, looking down at the tag. It was Nini's.

"Um," she stammers, glancing back and forth from the lodge to me. I cock a brow at her expectantly, waiting for her response. "Um, probably in my room? It's the master bedroom."

I nod, dragging the suitcase out of the snow and towards the pathway, knocking the wheels against the concrete. I stop for a second, adjusting the straps on my shoulders and balancing between two heavy bags. I pull towards the door and kick open the creaked wood, taking in the interior.

The entire cabin is made of wood—no fucking surprise—and on immediate entrance, it leads into the living room where couches and love seats circulate the coffee table, facing the cobblestone fireplace with a large plasma screen hung on the wall.

Glass windows decked behind them, floor-to-ceiling, and a couple of glass doors off in the dining room—which leads to the backyard patio and deck. There's wooden beams holding up the second floor, aligned in square-crossed patterns, and a short chandelier hangs over the dining table. On the other side, a hallway that leads to a kitchen and a bar.

"God, I hope they're fucking labels here," I mumble, heading towards the stairs and dragging the suitcase up the steps. I clearly didn't fucking plan for this many steps, because by the time I reach the top, I was a bit out of breath and my arms were sore.