I nod against him, but I don’t quite believe it, sincere as he sounds. How can he protect me against something he hasn’t acknowledged? Against something I don’t even understand.
I tuck myself tighter into his arms, trying to let the steady beat of his heart drag me into unconsciousness or trick me into feeling safe.
There’s no respite when I close my eyes. Because I know what I heard, and deep down, I know this didn’t start tonight.
My thoughts spiral back to the night before, when I woke up screaming, convinced I’d seen something through the threadbare curtains pulled across the window. Just for a second, a shape flickered there, staring in at me. I know it.
Yet, that time I believed him. It was just another nightmare. But at what point do I start putting weight into these convincing spectacles? Three times is one time too many to ignore.
What if something is out there? Something that doesn’t want Scott to know—to believe.
Justme.
What if it’s watching, waiting for something? But what?
The thought roots in my mind, slithering deep beneath the surface.
No matter how tight I clutch Scott or how steady his breathing stays beneath me, I can’t shake the feeling that I’m not imagining this at all.
Something’s out there.
And it’s not finished with me yet.
TWELVE
SCOTT
Idon’t sleep. Not really. If there were a clock in my line of sight, I would have watched the second hand tick by over the last few hours. I couldn’t close my eyes, not after everything that happened between us last night.
My arm drapes around her solid form, relieved she was finally able to fall back asleep. But my thoughts are a million miles away, dragging themselves through guilt and second-guessing what I did to her.
I should feel satisfied. At the top of my game. Instead, I feel like I crossed a neon warning line I can’t come back from. And that line wasn’t just with her. It was with myself. With herfather. The man who’s been my best friend since long before she was born.
Jesus, what the fuck have I done?
I stare up at the ceiling, jaw tense. I should’ve stopped it. But I didn’t. And worse? I didn’t want to. The guilt doesn’t erase the desire. It doesn’t negate this building need to slide out from under her and rouse her back to life with my tongue buried back in her pussy.
Even now, I can taste her on my lips, hear the sounds she made, feel the way she clung to me like I was the only life raft on a sinking ship.
But then the door happened, and her screams tore through my unconscious haze. The fear in her eyes should have told me everything I needed to know. And still, I doubted her like some patronizing asshole.
She trusted me, and I turned around and threw it in her face the moment it mattered most. The stab to my chest when she pulled away put everything into perspective. I let her down. Now, it doesn’t matter that I don’t fully comprehend what’s happening here at the cabin. I just know Ava needs to get out of here as soon as possible.
Gently untangling myself, careful not to wake her, I slide out from under the blanket. She murmurs something and shifts deeper into the cushion, but doesn’t open her eyes.
Good. She deserves to rest. If only to keep the reality of our night at bay a little longer for both of us.
I pull on a flannel and jeans, lace up my boots, and grab my jacket off the hook by the door. Slipping outside into the cold is a shock to the system. The fire had died down overnight, but Ava’s body was more than enough to ward off the cold.
The morning light has a strange effect on our surroundings, like rose colored glasses after a night of drinking. The woods don’t feel so haunted at dawn. The air’s crisp, but not nearly as biting. Pale blue pushes out the storm-gray that’s ruled the sky since the snow trapped us here. The sky above is clear, for the first time in days.
It’s a beautiful morning, but there's still that whisper at the back of my mind warning that everything might not be as it seems. I shake it off and start toward my Jeep.
It’s half-buried where I parked behind Ava’s tiny sedan.The snow's iced over and heavy, clinging to the undercarriage like it has no intention of letting go. I grab a shovel from the shed and dig for hours. Long enough that my back protests and my jacket becomes unnecessary, sweat dripping from my brow.
Eventually, when my steam is almost gone, I get to the tires.
I wrestle with the chains until my fingers are numb, looping them over and cinching them tight around the left side. These damn things are a pain in the ass, but it has to be enough. I just need to get down the long winding drive and out to the main road. The county should have it plowed by now.
