Winnie's POV
"No, no, no..." My sweaty hands clutch the steering wheel. If I could shake some sense into my old car, I would. "Please. Not now. Please work. Just a few more miles." I practically beg, feeling like a moron for talking to the dash.
I knew I should have heated it up a bit longer. But I was the only one closing tonight, it was raining, and all I wanted was to get home. Now, I'm stuck on the side of the road in complete darkness at the dead of night. I thought I was gonna make it, but my car died right when the Washington rain cleared up.
It's a Tuesday night. No one is out. All of La Push went to bed hours ago. I'm stuck.
"Please." I whisper to my car, squeezing the wheel. I'm going to have to leave it here and walk home, which will take hours. Or sleep in the back seat overnight till tomorrow when a mechanic shop opens.
Just as I start looking for a towel or something to use as a blanket, headlights flood the road. I panic, heart jumping with worry if it's a serial killer, then relief that could be someone who could help me. But the first concern is still present in my mind. Please let it be a local, any local. I wouldn't even care if it's someone from highschool or Sam Uley with his intensity.
The closer it gets, the sooner I realize it's not a truck, which eliminates half of the res. My stomach drops, meaning it could be some stranger from out of town, and I hope it's not a murderer. My panic only spiked when I the vechile slowed down to a stop, pulling off to the side of the road ahead of me.
It's a van.
An old camper van from the sixties, the same era as my buggie. One of those Volkswagen transporter vans surfers love, but I locked the doors anyway. My headlights make it look as ancient as my dated car. The red paint job has faded into a rust color, the hubcaps were dusty as the windows, and it creaked as it put itself into park.
I hold my breath as the door opens. It's clear whoever the driver is he's a big guy. It's as if he needs to unfold himself to get out of the little van. He steps into the lights, tall and big.
No, anybody but him.
Embry walks towards my car, frowning the entree walk over. He's fully dressed for once, in jeans and thin sweater that reminds me of caramel. He stops at the window, his brows furrowing as he sees me cowering in my car. A long moment passes, then he taps his knuckle against the window, motioning me to lower it.
"Winnie," Hearing him say my name gives me chills. "Are you okay?" He immediately asks, dipping his head through the open window to take a look inside my car, his eyes dipping up and down my body, making sure I'm alright. This close I can smell the traces of the freshness of the outdoors on him, then notes of amber and tea hit my nose. I almost lean into it, almost.
"Um, yeah, I am." I pause, my face slipping when he shoots me a look. I give in, hating how my resolve breaks.
"No, my car broke down, and it won't start." I admit, hating how helpless I sound. I wish I could be productive, check under the hood and know exactly how to fix it. I can't even change my own oil.
"Pop the hood." He says, drumming his hands against the door.
"Wait, you don't have to—"
"Let me just look." He says, already walking ahead.
"No, wait Embry. You don't have to do that. It's late. I can call a tow." That's a flat out lie. I don't have money for a tow, they charger by the mile. As if he knows I'm lying, his frown eases into a knowing look.
"It won't break more if I just take a look." He says, waving for me to pop the hood. I hesitate, feeling the weight of my options on me like being pressed between a literal rock and a hard place. Giving in, I pop the hood.
Embry disappears behind it, bending low into the fumes and oil. My hand goes to the door handle, but doesn't open the door. I should go out there. I know I won't be of any help, but standing next to him pretending to nod along or shine a light to help look is better than sitting here. Just as I'm about to climb out, Embry gingerly lowers the hood back into place. I can't tell from the look on his face if it's bad or horrible.
"Do you have a ride?" He finally asks cautiously, and I immediately groan.
"It's that bad?" I ask, my hands clutching the steering wheel. He winces, but nods.
"Let me take you home." He offers, but my head is already shaking no.
"No, you've helped me enough." We both still. I didn't mean for it to sound mean, but it felt loaded. "Thank you for pulling over. But I can get home."
"You have someone you can call?" He arches his brows at me. I stall, my jaw flexing. "I can wait with you till they come." He adds, his eyes searching my face.
"Maybe a tow truck—" I don't bother finishing that sentence, hearing how sheepish I sound.
"You know, I have a friend who works on cars. He's working late tonight... at this night job. But tomorrow he can tow your bug to his garage and he'll rebuild your car with his own hands." His eyes soften up from their heavy frown to a small plead. "Winnie, let me take you home."
"Embry, it's late—"
"It is late." He insists, "please let me give you a ride."
It's past midnight now. All I wanted was to go home and wash the diner off me and go to bed. There's nothing I want more.
"Come on, it's La Push. It's a small town. It takes ten minutes driving anywhere on the reservation." Embry nudges, finally getting some sense into me. He's my only way out of here.
"Okay." I murmur. He does a bad job of hiding the content glint in his eyes. He almost nearly grins.
"Whenever you're ready, I'll be in my van."
Embry's POV
Winnie brings in the smell of peach pie and coffee when she gets into my van. She keeps her head down as she settles into the seat, her hands smoothing out her uniform over her knees. She makes sure she's as far away from me as the van lets her to be, pressed up right against the doll like she'll jump out if she has to. I don't pull off right away, waiting till she's buckled in first.
I have to hold onto the steering wheel extra tight to stop the urge of reaching across and resting my hand on her knee. My eyes sting from forcing them to focus on the road, I keep finding myself looking back at her when I feel her eyes against the side of my face, but she darts to look out the window when I turn to look at her.
Radio, I should put on the radio. Something to help fill the dead quiet. My hand fumbles with the old dial, not knowing at all what I should I play, but hoping that whatever comes on is just right. Nothing stupid, but nothing over sappy like Phil Collins.
"Do you want to listen to listen to anything?" I offer, flipping through the channels.
"No, I'm okay." She mumbles. "Turn left."
Shit. I was so excited about Winnie accepting the ride I forgot I was taking her home. I just started driving around aimlessly, just content to have her near. We would have ended up at the beach if she hadn't said something. I follow her directions, going farther and farther into backlands and hills till we reach a lonesome street with dark little houses far away from each other.
What I think is her house is the second to last house at the end, it's far back near the edge of the woods. Though I'm sure the little craftsman house is owned by an old lady named Enola Greens. This is one of the first houses ever built on the res, I'd know because my grandpa was paid to do repairs for Enola's grandpappy. Even though the res is small, I'm positive Winnie isn't part of the Greens family.
"You're related to old lady Enola?" I ask, cautiously pulling into the gravel trail that doubles as a driveway. If I go in slow enough, the car won't stop. Maybe she won't run out as fast.
"No," She admits quietly. "I rent off her. My place is in the back." That makes sense, the whole street was originally part of Enola's family, but they sold it off bit by bit. Even in the dark I can tell the craftsman sits on the biggest stretch of land.
"It's dark, do you want me to walk you up?" I stall, already knowing the answer. She tenses up as she says I'm nice to offer, but that she makes the trip easy everyday.
"Thanks again Embry." She doesn't meet my eyes as she thanks me, her face betraying her with a harsh look around the eyes. She thanked me years ago too, and look how that turned out.
"Don't you have work tomorrow?" The question jumps out of my quick. It stops Winnie just in time, her hand on the handle.
"Yeah,"
"What time?"
"Early."
"How are you going to get there?" I ask, and her face drops when I bring it up. She was too focused on getting home and way from to think that through.
"I'll take you to work. What time do you have to be there?" I take not bulking or flinching at the invitation a good sign, then a bad taste settles in my stomach when I see her eyes widen.
"No, you've bailed me out already tonight." I can tell by the heat in her brown eyes she's thinking about freshman year.
"While you're at work, my buddy and I can tow your truck. I'll pick you up after too." She goes quiet, pressing her mouth into a firm line. She wants to refuse, tell me enough is enough. Yet, I can also see her weighing her options, her lack of options. It's me or walk all across the res.
"What time do you have to be at work tomorrow?" I try again.
"It's early." She says again, shutting her eyes and doing tight shakes of her head. "It's a diner. We open early."
"It's not too early. Just tell me." I insist, "and I'll be here."
"We open at six thirty." She admits in a hushed tone.
"What time do you finish?"
"Two."
"Okay, I'll pick you up at six tomorrow." Her eyes shut, looking so frustrated and tired. She grinds out another low thank you from her clenched jaw, followed by a goodnight. I don't pull out till I see her walk up and disappear around the side of the house. I wait a few minutes longer, listening with my werewolf hearing till her footsteps stop and there's the sound keys unlocking a door.
Then, when I know she's inside do I finally pull out.