Losing Faith by Jeremy Asher Page B

asked.
    Seth shook his head. “No.”
    Frank rubbed his hands together like he was trying to start a fire with them. “What was that about then?”
    Seth absentmindedly rubbed the tattoo on the back of his hand as he searched for a way to explain it, to make sense of it, but nothing came to mind. How did you tell someone you barely knew about the biggest mistakes you’d ever made? Mistakes that would forever define Seth Storm.
    He turned to Frank and said the only thing he could, “Faith.”

Chapter 8
    Trista
    Trista slammed her hand on the steering wheel. “Not now!” This was why she should have stayed in line for a rental car. A dependable vehicle. An unrecognizable vehicle. But they had spent too much time at the airport already. That, and Savannah wouldn’t stop drawing attention to them over that rude cowboy standing in line. What a jerk that guy had been. Cute, but still a jerk. Seth Storm. Not anyone she had ever heard of before, but then again, she hadn’t ever developed a taste for modern country music.
    The snow continued its assault against the windshield of her Cavalier, giving her wipers a workout. She drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. She rubbed her hand on the dashboard. “Just get us to the next town, baby. You can do it.”
    “Mom, it’s a car. I doubt that it can hear you.”
    Trista looked over at her skeptical daughter. Straight brown hair cascaded from her red and blue stocking cap, a gift she had received for Christmas this year. Her large blue eyes were glued to her iPhone’s screen.
    “You need to have faith, Savannah. We’ll get there. In twelve years, she hasn’t let me down yet.”
    “This car is almost as old as me.” Savannah’s eyes remained glued to the screen. “Why didn’t you ever get a new car?”
    Why didn’t I think of that? Oh, that’s right, she thought, probably because I haven’t had the money. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. She had had the money two years ago. She had just met a young, attractive, smooth-talking southern man named Randall Tuck. Now there was a man who loved country music. Probably another reason why she hadn’t developed an interest in it. He had had big dreams for his tow truck business. T & T Towing. But unfortunately he required the use of Trista’s savings to keep it running. After a year and a half of supporting him, Trista had decided that she could no longer afford his dream.
    Of course, this wasn’t the type of stuff she could share with her daughter. Kids thought life was so simple. Need a car? Buy one. Your phone breaks? Just go to the store and get another. But kids shouldn’t have to understand such difficulties. It was the best part about growing up in this complicated and often unfair world. Innocence was truly the greatest gift a child would ever lose. “Maybe when we get to Indiana and see Grandma. She’ll know of a car dealership where we can get something nicer.”
    “Cool. I say we get a Camaro. Those are awesome.”
    A Camaro? She shot her daughter an incredulous look. A look that ricocheted off of Savannah’s impervious cellular shield. “Are you texting someone?”
    Her fingers swiped across the touch screen. “Angry Birds.”
    The Cavalier’s engine let out a couple more threatening coughs. Trista didn’t know exactly what that meant, but it didn’t sound good. “Honey, you really should conserve the battery, just in case.” In case we need to call 9-1-1, she finished silently.
    “In case of what?”
    “In case we have to call someone out here to get us.”
    Savannah turned from her phone for the first time and looked out the passenger window. “Um, yeah, I don’t think anyone is stupid enough to come out here in this weather.”
    “Stupid enough?”
    “Just sayin’.” Her finger swiped across the screen again. “Besides, I don’t have a signal out here anyway.”
    Great. Stranded in the middle of a blizzard. Not exactly the getaway she had planned. Trista checked her rearview