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The breakup was natural. An imminent fate for anyone in their situation: Charlotte was a bombshell, socially savvy, and had her parents to support; Niles was littered with emotional and physical scars and only got by on the goodwill of a rich family that took a liking to him as a street rat.
Her name lighting up his phone on a random winter night, however, has a foreboding ring to it.
Niles stares at the screen in disbelief for a few seconds. Here he is, lounged across a shitty curbside loveseat he picked up at least five years ago in a t-shirt and boxers, phone in one hand and the probiotic protein shake he calls dinner in the other, and the most gorgeous woman he’s ever fucked is calling him. It’s probably her rich husband. Does that guy even know about Niles?
Fuck it. He answers the damn phone.
“What the fuck?” he says.
The sound of wind muffles the beginning of her response. “—les? Can y — r me?”
“Kinda.” He takes a loud sip of his shake, taking care to emphasize the bubbles. “But half your words sound like that.”
Her laugh is messy. Vindictive. Gods, he loves when she gets like that. She’s gorgeous when she’s put together, but she’s stunning like nothing he’s ever seen when she gets nasty.
“I nee — elp,” she says.
He understands just enough to bolt to his feet and start looking for pants.
“Help?” He asks, grabbing the first pair of jeans he finds and pulling them over his legs, “What happened? Where’s your shithead husband?”
The bitter words slip out but he’s too busy looking for a sweatshirt to hate himself for it.
“— the house,” she says. “I — ain later. C — pick me up?”
He puts her on speakerphone while he finishes gathering his things. Keys, boots, jacket, good enough for him. “Send me a pin.”
The wind obscures whatever she says next and she hangs up. Less than a second later she shares her live location. This wasn’t an option when they were together, and it’s weird to see it now. He checks directions and finds she’s 45 minutes away on a good day.
He shakes his head at himself and locks his door behind him.
Thank fuck he has four-wheel drive. It takes him over an hour but he finds Charlotte wrapped in a black wool coat, fur boots up to her knees, and a half empty bottle of wine in her hand at the end of a very long driveway into the woods. He pulls up next to her and unlocks the doors, and either she knows a lot about what he’s been up to or she’s making bad decisions because she climbs over a snowbank and into the passenger seat without a second thought.
He only gets a short look at her when the door light’s on, but he can tell she’s had a rough fucking night: dark streaks of eyeliner and mascara track down her cheeks, lipstick remnants are smeared across her face, and there are splotches of pink where her foundation and concealer were rubbed away. Rather than a carefully chosen perfume, Charlotte smells like ash and burnt hair. She’s shivering.
“How long have you been outside?” he asks as he turns around to dig for the emergency blanket in his backseat and a pack of hand warmers.
“Thanks,” she says instead of answering, voice rough.
Niles finds the blanket and throws it in her lap. Then he just drives.
“Where are we going?” he asks.
“Away from this shithole.”
As much as Niles wants to pry, experience has taught him that right now is not the best time to get answers. He can poke and prod later. He pulls away from the curb, driving slow through the snow, and breathes a sigh of relief when they find a plowed road.
After awhile of aimless silent driving, she starts talking.
“I thought I could handle it,” she says, her voice barely concealing the simmering anger ready to erupt at a moment’s notice. “He bought my parents a house. Bought me whatever I wanted.” She takes a deep, shaky breath. “I knew he was sending other girls on vacations, too, but it didn’t matter as long as I was taken care of.”
Niles doesn’t say anything. He waits for her to continue.
“That fucking loser got disrespectful. He brought someone else and fucked them in my bed. And I thought I was okay, but I wasn’t.” Her words morph into a snarl. He glances over and she’s gritting her teeth and pulling a thread out of her expensive looking gloves, tearing it further with each word. “So I fucking burned. It. Down.”
Niles follows the next sign he sees for the interstate and speeds up. “Who else knows?”
“Nobody yet. I think the girl ran — her car was gone when I went outside — so she might’ve told someone. Not that I care.”
Well that explains the smell. Now that he’s paying a little more attention he can detect hints of burnt wood.
Niles says, “And I’m the getaway driver.”
“I didn’t know who else to ask.”
He should really be less reliable; he left his life of crime in his childhood for a reason, and now he’s helping his ex-girlfriend from years past escape a crime scene. Arson and potential murder, and she did nothing to cover her tracks. Niles merges onto the empty freeway that already has a shallow layer of fresh snow since it was last plowed.
“Sorry to drag you into it,” she says.
“As long as you know,” he sighs. Whatever. He’s already here. “Leo probably knows a good criminal defense lawyer.”
“I’ll — need — one,” she says, ripping apart the last shreds of her gloves with every word.
They drive in silence. Niles finds a sign pointing to the interstate that’ll take him home and makes a decision.
“I’m not gonna fuck myself over,” he says, “But I can make sure you’re taken care of. And I still have your mom’s number. She’ll be taken care of, too.”
“Don’t bother,” Charlotte says, “You don’t have that kind of money. I’ll figure it out.”
He has the money, but he doesn’t tell her that. “Whatever you say.” He’s calling Charlotte’s mom as soon as she has her meeting with Leo.
“Are you gonna turn me in?” Charlotte asks. She doesn’t sound angry, or even resigned; she sounds completely and utterly neutral towards the whole situation.
Charlotte usually runs hot, but Niles has seen her cold side. She holds everything in under a warm facade until she explodes and, after the smoke clears, if she has no regrets, all that’s left is an empty void with a cloud of frost that he got accustomed to clawing through when she shut down. He loved the challenge of getting her to smirk with a poorly timed dirty joke. She would thaw out draped over his lap until she was ready to face the world again.
The day after one of her blow ups was always his favorite. The sex was phenomenal, sure, but she always seemed most like herself on those days. The normally put together Charlotte, empty of the anger that seemed to follow her, would have time to relax into her authentic self.
He hasn’t thought about that in a long time.
“Leo will know what to do,” he says in lieu of answering her question. “I’m not calling him in the middle of the night. We’ll worry about it tomorrow.”
“Okay.”
Niles glances at the clock. The sun is probably starting to rise about now, but the storm is strong enough that it’s still dark. They’ll get to his house shortly after his 9-5 neighbors leave for work. Good.
“We’ll be there soon,” he says. “My guest room’s a mess, but the bed’s clean.”
“I’ll just sleep in your bed.”
“Like hell you will,” he snaps. “I didn’t pick you up to be your revenge fuck.”
For some fucking reason this gets an ungraceful laugh out of her. The real one she always tried to conceal with one she’d practice in the shower.
“Oh, please, as if I can do that right now,” she says, “But I know how you are about laundry.”
“I’ve grown up a bit since the last time you were at my place.”
“Uh huh.”
Niles takes his exit. He’s looking forward to his own damn bed, even if he has to share. Even if he rarely sleeps.
“I’m not in the mood to argue,” he says, “Do whatever you want.”
“I will.” Then, “Do you think I’ll get a litter charge for leaving his clothes on the lawn?”
Niles nearly misses his own driveway in bewilderment. His tire tracks from earlier in the night have been softened by the snowfall. “That’s what you’re worried about?”
“I didn’t think about it,” she says as the garage door closes behind them.
“But you thought about the rest.”
“Obviously.”
Okay, so maybe she was running hot.
“It doesn’t matter right now,” Niles says, unlocking the car. “We’ll worry about it in the morning. For now, you’re getting some damn sleep.”