She eyes me meaningfully.
I straighten. “I’m not going to do anything reckless.”
June’s smile turns knowing. “That’s what they all say right before they try to take a ‘quick scenic drive’ and end up calling Haven 7 because their tire chain fell off and slapped them in the face.”
Heat crawls up my neck. “I bought chains.”
“Did you put ’em on?”
“…No.”
June hums like she’s not surprised. “Well. If you need help, you come back. Brad Holloway owes me a favor and he likes to feel useful.”
I take the key. “Thank you.”
June’s eyes soften. “Welcome to Timber Creek, Mila. We take care of our own around here.”
My throat tightens unexpectedly. I nod and pretend it’s the dry air making my eyes sting.
Outside, snow has started to fall again—light, lazy flakes that look harmless. Which is how I know they’re lying.
I climb back into Darlene, punch the cabin address into my phone, and start driving.
The road out of town narrows fast, turning from charming toyou’re definitely about to star in a horror movie.Trees close in on both sides. The sky darkens like someone dimmed a light switch.
The navigation app chirps cheerfully:In 2.3 miles, turn right.
I swallow. “Okay. Easy.”
The right turn appears and it’s less “road” and more “suggestion.” A narrow lane disappears into the woods with a small sign that says:
BLUEBIRD CABIN — 1.1 miles
I hesitate.
Darlene idles like she’s also unsure about our life choices.
Then my phone pings again—my mom, of course—and the sound snaps me into motion. I turn onto the lane.
The snow is thicker here. The trees block the last of the daylight. My headlights carve tunnels through swirling flakes.
I keep going, heart tapping harder with every curve.
Half a mile in, the road tilts upward. My tires crunch, then slip.
Darlene fishtails.
“NOPE.” I grip the wheel. “Nope, nope, nope?—”
The SUV slides toward the edge of the road where there’s a steep drop into the woods. My stomach launches into my throat.
I overcorrect.
Darlene lurches.
There’s a horrifyingthunkunder the car, and then…
Nothing.
