Strike to burn snowfall.., p.1
Strike to Burn (Snowfall Valley Book 2), page 1
Strike To Burn
K.E. Monteith
Also by K.E. Monteith
Standalones
All Grown Up
Third Time's The Charm
One Dropped Key
Quitting My Boss
Studio Stories
Gym Daddy
Snowfall Valley Series
Back When We Faked It
Strike To Burn
Copyright © 2024 Kristin Monteith
All rights reserved
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
ASIN: B0CNZFXNCP
ISBN: 9798872258384
Cover design by: Kristin Monteith
Printed in the United States of America
Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Content Warnings
blowjobs and vintage cars
Desperate Evasion of Endangered Rascals
depression meets a drunkard
Happy and Ecstatic to Reluctant and Scared
friends will worry no matter what you do
two fake daters enter a not pub, they might kiss (they will)
Trivia Revolves Around Malevolent Prattle
show me how you use that hammer
Surreptitious and Peculiar Exploits by an Erratic Driver
fuck feelings
Obvious Needs Exasperated By Evading Discussion
they can’t call the cops if your name is on the title
Sparks and Merriment Overcome a Resurgence of Engulfing Sadness
sticker truths and paper lies
Wherewithal to Abstain Trampled by Cute Host
midnight questions
Leverage Over Offenders Keeps Officers from Undermining Taunts
‘constructive concern’
Pensive Announcements Necessitate Comfort, Assurances, Kisses, and, Eventually, Sex
paper hearts
scribbles and tears
Researching Efficient Automotive Logistics to Infuriate a Zealous Egotist
some men deserve blowjobs
Points Against Recklessly Terrorizing Yahoos
talking about feelings still fucking sucks
zoom zoom mother fuckers
Rattling Anxiety Causes Exhaustion
owning your unhinged bullshit
Happily Ever-afters Involve Slight Thievery
paper hearts but this time with feeling
About the Author
Books By This Author
For my boy, who let's my crazy shine
Content Warnings
Please note that this is an open-door romance and contains explicit content not suitable for children.
blowjobs and vintage cars
Zoey
I couldn’t stop my knee from bouncing and it was pissing me off. This bastard didn’t deserve my concern. He deserved to be pushed into a pile of shit. He deserved salt in his wounds, washed out with salt water, and coated in more salt. That fucker deserved to burn.
And despite all that, my gut was twisted into so many damn knots that I couldn’t breathe. Because even though I shouldn’t, even though I hated that I did, I still cared about Johnny. I cared about him so damn fucking much. And that made everything burn twice as badly.
“Zo!”
My head shot up to see Roxie damn near sprinting across the hospital waiting room in death heels. I jumped out of my seat to meet her halfway because it was the least I could do for ruining her New Year’s Eve plans, whatever they may have been. And definitely not because I needed the hug that she offered.
“What’s wrong? Where’s everybody else? Are you okay?” Rox squeezed me tightly before pulling away and looking me up and down.
“I didn’t text the others,” I mumbled, trying to turn away. But Rox didn’t let go of my shoulders. She squeezed tighter, raising a perfectly shaped eyebrow.
This was another reason Johnny deserved to be shoved into shit. I now had to tell everyone what he did. Me, not him, me. And with every single person I told, I’d have to face the pity. Again and again, until everyone in town knew.
Suddenly I regretted convincing Olivia, my best friend, to stop working at the Paper and pursue a career that actually made her happy. At least then she’d be able to save me from one form of small town gossip. I wonder what McKree will have to say about this. Would he focus on the no-good bastard or me? Will the patriarchy win or his common decency?
“Why didn’t you tell anybody else?” Roxie asked, voice hushed.
I bit my tongue. I wasn’t ready to say it out loud yet. It hadn’t technically been confirmed. All the person who’d called me said was that Johnny was in the car in a ‘compromising’ position with another woman when he crashed. Compromising could mean anything.
I didn’t believe it meant anything but the obvious, but if it let me hold off saying the exact words. I’d hold on to that as tight as fucking possible.
“I need to get tested. And you’re the one who knows about that shit. So, you know …” I really wish she wasn’t still holding on to me. That way I wouldn’t have to watch her face as she processed what I said. The widening of her eyes stung.
But they didn’t soften into pity like I feared. Instead, her grip tightened, nose flaring. “Where is he?”
“Getting stitches and a caste.” I shrugged out of her hold and went back to my chair to grab my bag. When I turned back, Rox was looking at me with wonder. It only took a second for me to realize what she thought had happened. “I didn’t do it. I haven’t spoken to him yet.”
I honestly had no idea what I would say when I saw Johnny. There was no excusing his way out of this one. He’d have to admit it. And I’d have to … do something.
“All right. So … do you know how long until you can see him?” Roxie asked, refocusing me.
“I dunno.” I looked over to the doors where a nurse or surgeon or whatever had gone after telling me the basics of Johnny’s procedures. Beyond the fact that he wasn’t in serious medical trouble, I didn’t absorb much. “Maybe an hour or so.”
“Right,” Roxie said definitively, looping an arm around mine and pulling me to the front desk. “Evening …” Rox glanced at the woman’s name tag before continuing, “Lacey. My friend and I need some general STD tests, please.”
“You’re getting one too?” I asked at the same time Lacey asked, “Names?”
“Roxanne Davis and Zoey Riggs,” Roxie answered. Then she turned to me and squeezed my arm. “And of course. I won’t let you do it alone.”
Fuck I loved my friends.
“Any changes to insurance or addresses for either of you?”
“No,” we answered. Then Roxie added, “And if Johnathon Clark can take visitors while we’re testing, can you have someone let us know?”
Lacey clicked through a few things on her computer before asking, “Relation to the patient?”
“I’m his … emergency contact,” I answered, that shaky feeling coming back. It was rage and anxiety and the feeling of everything in my life breaking down. I fucking hated it. What did I do to deserve this?
“Oh,” was all that came out of Lacey. Roxie’s hand found my arm again, giving me a comforting squeeze.
I was desperate to ask the nurse what that ‘oh’ meant. I wanted to know everything and nothing and crawl into a hole and never come out.
But there was one thing I could ask that wouldn’t send me into a spiral.
“Do you know how the car is? The ‘66 Chevy Corvette?” There was probably a good bit of damage considering the dumbass broke his arm. But I could fix damn near anything. And if I couldn’t, I knew somebody who could. And that kind of project was exactly what I needed right now. Something I could focus on, something that I didn’t need to talk to anybody to do.
“Oh,” Lacey repeated. And my gut sank for a second time that night.
✽✽✽
“You wrecked my ‘66 for a fucking blowjob?”
Johnny didn’t have the sense to look ashamed when I stepped into his room. He didn’t shy away from the accusation or fiddle nervously with his hospital bed sheets. He didn’t turn red or scratch the back of his neck, which were his usual tells.
Instead, Johnny sat there, staring at me with a furrowed brow, which must’ve stung given the line of stitches across his forehead.
“What’re you more mad about? Me cheating or wrecking the car?”
There it was. Confirmation of what I’d suspected for the last few months. Stated so simply too.
It took two or three steps to get from the door to Johnny’s bed. And it took one deep breath to smack his smug, beautiful, hateful face.
The sting in my palm lasted one single heartbeat.
One heartbeat. Everything was done in one single fucking heartbeat.
It took a bit longer for them to escort me out of the hospital.
Desperate Evasion of Endangered Rascals
Stephen
“I told you to take a vacation, Stephen. Not take the street view car out to gather more data,” Darren grumbled over the car speakers. I should have known better than to answer his c
“Your workaholic ways are a pain in my ass. This little field trip isn’t in the budget, you know.”
I missed him even if he was a bit of a prick sometimes.
“Good to hear from you too,” I mumbled under my breath. I glanced up to my rearview mirror to see a car quickly approaching. I hit my blinker, moved into the right lane, and let him pass. There was barely anybody on the roads, so I stayed in place, letting cruise control take over. I’d never done such a long road trip before, but I was coming to find I liked it. The quiet, the endless road. It was peaceful.
“I’m just saying, do you even know the meaning of taking a break?” Darren asked and I couldn’t help but chuckle. It’d been like this since college. I’d be doing work and Darren would arbitrarily decide I needed a mental health break and drag me away. And even though we were business partners and full-grown adults now, not much had changed.
“I’m testing the scenic route option. You know, the thing we made specifically for vacations.” I didn’t mention that I was driving through areas we had limited data on. He probably already assumed that’s what I was doing anyway.
“Dude. I need you well rested. For the company and your general well-being. What happens if you overwork yourself and crash? Or you get stuck in the middle of nowhere and start having a panic attack because you can’t work?”
“I have my laptop with me. Obviously.”
“Not the point, Stephen. I’m worried about you. Where even are you right now?”
I glanced over to the monitor to my right to confirm I was nowhere near a big, recognizable city. “Somewhere in North Carolina. Along the mountains.”
“North Carolina? You drove all the way across the fucking country?”
“I’ve been gone for a week.”
“You’ve been gone for five days. Have you been making stops?”
“Of course, I have.”
“For more than just sleep?”
I bit my tongue, knowing he wouldn’t like the answer. I really shouldn’t have answered his call. It was getting late, the roads were dark, and I needed to find food and a place to stay soon.
“Christ. Well, seeing as you’re literally across the country, can you at least promise me one thing?”
Since Darren wasn’t one to settle so quickly, I jumped on the compromise. Even though I should have known better.
“Sure. What?”
“Stay some place for more than one night. See some sights. Be an obnoxious tourist. Do something that isn’t even tangentially related to work. You can do that, right?”
I was about to tell him he was being dramatic. That I’d done plenty on my cross-country trip that didn’t involve work.
But then something skittered into the road, demanding all my attention.
My first thought was there’s no way that’s a real deer, it’s fucking huge.
My second thought was, fuck, I’m gonna kill it, I don’t wanna kill it.
The deer in question remained frozen in the middle of the road, my headlights reflecting bright panic in his eyes. Panic I shared. Panic that told me the best course of action would be to jerk to the right and slam on the breaks.
Panic that sent me straight into a tree.
The impact felt like somebody sat on the remote, turning the TV to a channel of static. Everything was fuzzy and all I heard was buzzing.
And then the airbag erupted and everything went white. And musty.
I didn’t do anything at first. I sat there with smelly fabric pushed against my face, the sound of breaking glass ringing in my ears. I sat there and internally screamed until my mental voice was hoarse.
And when I’d collected myself, I smacked my way through the airbag to grab my phone and get out of the car.
As soon as my door opened, the deer’s head turned to me. He was still in the middle of the road, head cocked like he was curious about what I was doing. As if I hadn’t just wrecked my car and endangered myself for him.
“You could say thank you, you know?” I told him. To which he shook his whole body before sprinting back into the woods he came from. It was impressive speed given that he hadn’t moved an inch to avoid an oncoming vehicle.
“STEPHEN OSCAR GILL, ANSWER THE FUCKING PHONE!”
Oh right, Darren.
“Sorry, there was this deer,” I explained once I put the phone to my ear.
“Jesus fucking Christ, man. Are you all right?”
I took a second to look down at my body, brushing away a few shards of glass, but not finding any injuries other than the bruise on my knee from when I ran into a table at an antique shop the other day. The store had this odd sign about stocking the most tables in America and I’d gotten curious. It wasn't as impressive as I thought it'd be.
“I’m fine.”
“Are you sure you’re fine? Because I just heard the crash and had a fucking heart attack.” Darren was a good friend, overbearingness and all.
“Yeah. It really wasn’t that bad. I just swerved to not hit this deer. He was huge. I mean, huge. Do you think they keep deer as pets in the South? That’s the only explanation for why that deer was so big.”
“Are you sure you didn’t hit your head man?”
“No, really, you need to see this deer. We probably got him on camera.” I leaned back into the car and tapped at the monitor. It was, of course, dead. As was the dashboard and the radio and the inside lights. “Fuck.”
“What? What happened?”
Ignoring Darren, I walked around to the front of the car to take in the damage. The front was completely crumbled, nearly wrapped around a tree. And the camera on top of the car was literally hanging on by a chord.
“No, no, no,” I shouted, dropping my phone to fumble up the remainder of the hood and grab the camera. Darren continued to screech from my phone, but I was focused on making sure the camera and its various lenses didn’t take any more damage. The car might not be an easy or cheap fix, but the camera would be ten times worse. Which was something our startup couldn’t afford.
Once the camera was detached from all its chords and safe in the back seat, I went back to grab my phone.
“I think I saved the camera. We’ll probably need new chords though, most of them snapped. And the front of the car is completely wrecked.” I took a hesitant step toward the engine to get a better look at the damage. I didn’t know much about cars, but I knew enough to know smoke was a bad sign. Didn’t smell like pancakes though. “It’s if the smoke smells like pancakes that it’s gonna explode, right?”
“Stephen, get the fuck away from that car,” Darren shouted instead of answering my question.
“It’s not that much smoke. And it doesn’t smell like pancakes.”
“Please, for the love of god, don’t base your safety on something you read on the internet once. Get away from the car.”
“I will. Just let me get my insurance card. And wallet. And bag.”
“Jesus fucking Christ. I’m gonna have to figure out how to get your body shipped back to Washington, aren’t I?”
“That sounds like a waste of money,” I told him, reaching into the car to grab my things on the passenger seat. There was an odd clinking sound coming from somewhere in the car, A metal tap, tap, tapping. I grabbed the rest of my things in a hurry.
“Darren, I’m hanging up now to call for a tow. I’ll confirm I didn’t die later.”
“Oh, thanks. Sorry if it’s such a hardship for you to —” My thumb swiped to end the call before he could give me any more attitude.
With Darren out of the way, I took a deep breath and really looked around the area. It looked identical to every other section of road I’d driven on today. Two lanes, minimal streetlights, and lots and lots of trees.
But there was one distinguishing thing. A blue sign listing a mechanic at the next exit. Bright neon letters in the middle of a gear spelled out ‘Zoey’s Shop’. Well, at least that’s one thing solved.
After a thirty-minute wait on the phone and another ten-minute wait on the side of the road, I was picked up by a quiet man who brought me and my car to an auto shop in a little shopping center. There was, possibly, a restaurant named Cal’s, a craft store, a nail salon, and a large grocery store with one letter of the store sign out.
