I could still hear my editor’s voice — gentle, careful, like talkingto a wounded animal.“You just need some space to breathe, Silas. Somewhere quiet. Something simple.”
Simple. Right. Because simplicity hadalwayssolved the kind of rot that started inside.
I’d booked the cabin because it promised solitude. A single room, a desk, a fireplace, and no one to bother me while I figured out whether the words still existed.
If I were being honest, I didn’t even know if Iwantedto write anymore. But what else was I supposed to do? Sit in my apartment and count regrets?
The snow crunched under my boots as I stepped up to the door. There was light spilling from the windows — warm, golden. Not what I’d expected. Maybe the caretaker had left it on for me. Thoughtful, though unnecessary.
I cracked open the door.
And stopped.
Music hit me first — something bright and insistent, sleigh bells and sugar-sweet vocals that didn’t belong anywhere near the silence I’d come here for. Then the smell — cinnamon, cocoa, the faint tang of something burning.
And thenher.
Bare legs, oversized sweatshirt, tangled hair, halfway up a chair, stringing lights across the window. There was a giant fuckingbowin her hair.A bow.
“That’s not necessary,” I managed, voice thick from lack of use. “I’m sorry I’m early, but the decorations aren’t needed.”
Before I could say anything further, shescreamed.
The mug in her hand went flying — cocoa splattering against the rug like a crime scene. The chair she’d been standing on wobbled, clattered to the floor, and she went down with it in a blur of limbs, garland, and very creative swearing.
“Jesus—” I started, moving forward on instinct.
“Don’t move!” she gasped, clutching a tinsel garland like a weapon. “Who thehellare you?”
I froze. “I — what?”
“You can’t just break in! People getmurderedlike this!”
Blinked. “You’re decorating.”
“Ilivehere!” she said — a lie, clearly, but she committed to it, eyes wide and wild, hair sticking up in every direction.
“This is a rental.”
She stared, chest heaving, garland drooping from one hand. “Well, it’smyrental. I reserved it.”
I frowned, glancing around. “So did I.”
For a moment, we both just stood there — the storm outside, the chaos inside, and a string of lights still blinking weakly between us.
I lingered by the door, realizing I was still holding my duffle like a weapon. The woman straightened her sweatshirt and crossed her arms, defensive again. “Show me your reservation.”
“What?” I mimicked her gesture, crossing my arms.
“Pull up your reservation and show it to me before I call the cops.”
The pink-haired woman was already flying through her phone, thumbs moving a hundred miles as hour as the scowl stayed plastered to her face. “Here,” she jammed her phone in my face, with aCabin Confirmedemail for this address.
I sighed as I unlocked my device, thumbing through my emails until I found my confirmation email calmly, holding my phone at arms length to appease this wild creature.
“Shit. I think,” she said, “we should probably start over. Before I hit you with a wreath.”
“Reasonable,” I managed.
