Chapter 1 – Demi
The snow falls thick here, layering itself across the pines until the branches bow under the weight. I've been driving for two hours, watching my phone signal flicker in and out like a dying heartbeat, and the road has narrowed so much that I'm no longer sure if I'm following pavement or just the memory of where pavement used to be.
I love it.
No traffic or billboards screaming about last-minute Valentine's gifts or couples holding hands in coffee shop windows while I pretend scrolling through my phone is more interesting than the empty chair across from me.
I booked this trip three weeks ago, the day after I realized I'd be spending another February fourteenth alone, tired of being the woman men date when they're figuring themselves out, the soft place they land before they find someone they actually want to keep.
I'm thirty years old, and I'm done apologizing for taking up space.
The GPS cut out completely about ten minutes ago, but I have the hand-drawn map the rental company emailed me. It's charmingly analog, complete with little pine tree doodles and a note at the bottom that saysIf you reach the fork with the fallen birch, you've gone too far.
I haven't seen the fallen birch, so I'm choosing optimism.
The trees press closer, the world feels like it's holding its breath, and then, around a curve that makes my tires slip slightly, I see it.
The cabin.
Smoke curls from the chimney, thin and white against the gray sky. The windows are frosted at the edges, glowing faintly with what must be a firelight inside. Snow sits heavy on the roof, and the whole structure looks like something that grew here instead of being built.
I exhale, long and slow, feeling something in my chest unclench.
This is exactly what I needed.
I park and grab my bag from the backseat, my boots crunching through snow that's deeper than I expected. The cold bites at my cheeks, and I pull my coat tighter as I make my way to the door. The key is supposed to be in a lockbox by the entrance, but when I reach for it, I notice the door is already slightly ajar.
Maybe they left it open for me?...
I push the door wider, stepping inside with a smile already forming, ready to take in my little haven for the next two days.
And I walk straight into a man.
Amassiveman.
I stumble back, my bag hitting the doorframe, and look up into a face that's all hard angles and dark beard and eyes that pin me in place like I've just set off a trap I didn't know was there.
"What the hell—" His voice is low, rough, the kind of voice that sounds like it doesn't get used often.
"I—I'm sorry, I—" My heart is hammering, caught somewhere between fear and something else I don't want to name. "The door was open. I thought—"
"You thought you'd just walk into someone's house?" He's not shouting, but there's an edge to his tone that makes me feel scared.
"I booked this cabin." The words come out sharper than I mean them to. I fumble for my phone, pulling up the confirmation email with shaking hands. "See? Reservation number, dates, everything. I'm supposed to be here."
He stares at the screen, his jaw tightening. Then he pulls out his own phone, scrolling through something with the kind of slow frustration that suggests he's trying very hard not to break something.
"Goddamn system," he mutters.
"What system?"
He looks at me again, and I get my first real chance to take him in. He's tall, with shoulders that seem engineered for hauling timber or surviving blizzards. His hair is dark and slightly messy, like he's run his hands through it a few too many times today, and his beard is full but neat. His flannel shirt is rolled up to his elbows, revealing forearms that are all muscle and scars.
I should not be noticing his hands right now.
"The booking system," he says, his voice flat. "Town council made me switch to some automated thing last month. I told them it wasn't ready. Looks like I was right."
"So… what does that mean?"
