Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 95107 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95107 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
“What fucking pact?” he growls.
“If we’re dealing with a starvation situation, the person who’s still alive has to eat the dead one.”
Logan stares at me.
“What?” I say defensively. “It’s a matter of survival.”
“You want us to eat each other.”
“Well, not each other. Only one of us will need to do it. And I just want you to know—if I die first, I give you permission to eat me. Do whatever you need to do to survive. No judgment whatsoever from beyond the grave.”
He just stares again.
“So it’s a pact? The living one eats the dead one? There’s a Swiss Army knife in the emergency kit. Oh, and I think the butt is the best part to cut into. Fleshier.”
“No,” he says emphatically.
“Yes,” I insist. “The butt is the best part—”
“No, as in, I’m not cutting off a piece of your sweet ass and consuming it,” he clarifies. “I’d rather we just die in each other’s arms, old-people-in-Titanic style.”
I shake my head in disappointment. “Fine, don’t agree to the pact. I’m still doing it.”
“A pact requires the agreement of both parties,” he argues.
“Not when my life is at stake.” I stick my tongue out. “Sorry, babe, but I’m eating your ass whether you like it or not.”
I don’t realize how poorly I worded that until after the words exit my mouth, which earns me howls and howls of laughter from my immature boyfriend.
3:02 a.m.
“Okay, it’s obviously been fourteen hours—”
“Six,” Logan corrects.
“—and they’re still not here.” My teeth nearly poke a hole through the inside of my cheek. “I don’t think they’ll be able to find us.”
“They have our exact location.”
“Yeah, but the car is covered in snow. They won’t see us. And then when the blizzard ends, we’ll have to dig our way out.” I give him a firm look. “You really need to agree to the pact.”
“Never. And we won’t have to dig ourselves out. We’re fine.” But my concerns do spur him into action. He reaches for the door handle and curses when it takes several hard pushes to get it open. “I’ll be right back.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Scrape the snow off so they can see the car. And I’d better turn on the emergency blinkers now. The cavalry should be here any minute.”
I start to push the blanket off. “Let me help.”
“No way. It’s too cold. Stay here.”
He goes outside and starts scraping, until his handsome face eventually appears on the other side of the window. His features are creased with focus, which brings a smile to my lips. No matter what John Logan does, he gives it 110 percent of his concentration.
Fifteen minutes later he’s back in the car, shaking snow off himself like a dog shaking off water after a swim. He crawls under the blanket, and I try to warm him up.
“Thanks,” he mumbles, his broad frame shivering in my arms.
“Aww, baby.” I rub his back in an attempt to infuse him with warmth. It doesn’t really work, so I make an executive decision to blast the heat even though I know we’re slowly draining our gas tank and battery.
3:46 a.m.
“The tow truck still isn’t here. They’re almost an hour late and I fear for our lives. Who knows, maybe they’ll never show up. We might be trapped here forever. Our bodies will be found years later and—”
“Oh, would you cut it out.” Logan grabs the phone from my hand and addresses the camera. “We’re not going to die. We are just fine.” He pauses for a beat. “But in the event that we do die: Mom, I love you. I want you to know you’re the greatest—”
“Hey!” I punch him in the shoulder. “Stop using up my battery for your goodbyes. You don’t even believe we’re going to die.” I snatch the phone and talk to it. “He won’t even make a pact to eat each other, you guys! What kind of boyfriend is that? I’m offering him sustenance to live and he won’t eat me!”
Logan’s lips suddenly press against my cheek. “You want me to eat you?” he says silkily. “I’ll fucking eat you, baby.”
“John,” I gasp, aghast. I look at the camera. “Pretend you didn’t hear that, Dad!”
Then I stop recording, and Logan and I start making out while the snow continues to fall beyond the car.
4:22 a.m.
“Well, there goes our tank,” Logan remarks as the vents release their final burst of hot air. The tow truck still hasn’t arrived, and we’ve officially run out of gas.
“The offer to eat me after I die still stands,” I tell him. “That’s how much I love you.”
He sighs.
4:49 a.m.
I’m curled up in Logan’s strong arms, sleepy and contented, as his long fingers play with my hair.
“Missed this,” he mumbles.
I twist my head to look at him. “What?”
“Cuddling with you. Being with you.”
A lump lodges in my throat. “Me too.”