It takes three tries, but the third key slides into the ignition and my mood immediately declares victory. In my head, I'm already drifting across the chalky powder with the cold air biting my skin, but my hopes are dashed the instant I turn the key and the damn thing doesn't start.
In fact, the engine doesn't turn over at all, and I spend the next twenty minutes checking the oil and fuel, my hands going numb despite the gloves I found hanging near the door. And while I know nothing about engines, I am determined to not give up. Soafter pulling out what looks like the spark plug and wiping it on Dane's too-large jacket, I slide it back in and give it one more shot.
It roars to life, echoing through the barn so loudly it startles me, but I'm giddy. I let it run for a minute to warm up, then kill it and wheel the snowmobile outside. The runners glide easily over the snow, and I feel a surge of excitement I haven't experienced in weeks.
Inside the cabin, I grab a handful of change from Dane's nightstand—maybe ten dollars in coins and ones—and pocket it. Enough for coffee. That's all I'm getting. Coffee, maybe a pastry, then straight back.
Simple and safe and oh, so thrilling.
I bundle up in layers, pull on the warmest hat I can find, and return to the snowmobile. The engine starts on the first try this time, and I guide it away from the cabin, following the natural contours of the land toward town. The ride is exhilarating—cold air whipping past, snow spraying up from the runners, the landscape opening up before me in endless white. I'd forgotten how much I love this, the freedom of outdoor sport, the rush of speed and movement.
Erin and I go hiking all the time, and we've only done snowmobiles once or twice, but God, the thrill of it never gets old. I'm at one with nature until the small town sprouts up from the earth in front of me. I circle around the back of the diner, parking the snowmobile where it's less visible from the main road, and make my way on foot to the entrance.
The diner is warm, packed with locals escaping the cold. Christmas decorations cover every surface—garland wrappedaround the counter, lights strung across the windows, a small tree in the corner blinking with multicolored bulbs. The smells of coffee and baking bread make my stomach growl as I roll my eyes at how quickly this town bypassed the season of thankfulness to jump right into commercialism just like they do in New York.
I slide into a booth near the back and a waitress I don't recognize brings me a menu. "What can I get you, hon?"
"Hot cocoa, please. And whatever pastry Erin has fresh." I don't even bother taking the menu, and I notice her nametag saysColleen, which is strange because I've never met her, but I see Erin bopping around and ignore the new face.
She smiles. "Apple turnover's fresh. I'll bring you one."
While I wait, I listen to the conversations around me. Two women at the next table are discussing Thanksgiving plans. A man at the counter is arguing with someone about snow tire regulations. It's all perfectly mundane and normal and I am in heaven having real humans around me for a little while.
Ellie appears from the kitchen, green eyes bright as she surveys her domain. She spots me and her face lights up with recognition.
"Sarah! Didn't expect to see you in town." She slides into the booth across from me without invitation. "Where's your brother?"
"Hunting." The lie rolls off my lips the way the coffee slips through them. "He's tracking a bear, I think."
"Well, I'm glad you came in. Wanted to ask if you'll be around for our Thanksgiving feast. We do a big community thing here atthe diner. Turkey, all the fixings, everyone invited. Your brother never comes, but maybe you could convince him?"
The invitation is genuine and warm, and I have no idea how to respond to her. She was so nice to invite us to the Halloween thing and Dane hated me for agreeing to come. Then there's the issue of my real-life drama. Will I be here in two days? Will Dane be back? Will we even be alive by Thanksgiving?
"I'm not sure how long I'm staying," I say carefully. "My plans are kind of up in the air."
"Well, the offer stands. Door's open from noon until we run out of food." She pats my hand. "You look thin, hon. Been eating enough up there in the woods?"
"I'm fine. Dane's actually a decent cook."
"Miracles never cease." She starts to stand, then pauses. "You doing alright? You seem a little on edge."
"Just cabin fever. Needed to get out for a bit."
Ellie nods her understanding. "I get that. Winter up here can be brutal if you're not used to it. You need anything, you come find me, okay?"
The waitress brings my cocoa and turnover, and Ellie returns to the kitchen. I sip the cocoa slowly, savoring the warmth and sweetness, watching the diner's activity with contentment I haven't felt in days.
Then the door opens and Wade Carver walks in.
My stomach drops as he scans the room, and his eyes land on me with immediate recognition. I squirm and try to avoid eye contact, but he heads straight for my booth.
"Sarah," he says, stopping right beside me. He holds his hat in his hands and I see the glow of his balding head reflecting the fluorescent light from the overhead bulbs. "Funny running into you here."
"Sheriff." I keep my voice steady, casual. "Just getting some coffee."
"Where's your brother?"
"Hunting… Gotta put meat on the table."
