My father's voice is tense, controlled in that way that means he's barely holding back panic.
"Phoenix. I've been trying to reach you for two days. Marcus is very angry. He came to the office yesterday, demanding answers. He asked if you were at the cabin. I don’t know how he knows about it. He didn’t sound stable, son. I've heard things. Just... call me back. And be careful."
The message ends.
My blood turns to ice.
I think about all the times I mentioned this place to him over the years. It wasn't a secret. I'd invited him up here once or twice for weekend trips when we were still in business school together.
I dial Jade’s number. It rings once, twice, three times. Then nothing. The call drops.
No signal. I was hoping I could get through but if her phone isn’t in the right place in the cabin, it wouldn’t get the signal.
I try again. Still nothing.
"Fuck." I slam my palm against the steering wheel. “Fuck!"
I tear out of the parking lot, tires sliding on the icy pavement.
The drive back takes twice as long as it should. I push the car as far as I can, but the roads are slick with ice and the last thing I need is to end up in a ditch.
I try calling Jade a few times, but the signal dies about a mile out of town and stays dead. I try my father, hoping he can send someone, but the calls won't connect.
My mind keeps spinning. She’s probably fine, but I shouldn’t have left her alone.
The road stretches endlessly ahead of me, white and winding and impossibly long. I can’t get there soon enough.
36
JADE
The cabin feels too quiet without Phoenix in it.
I stand at the kitchen counter, waiting for the kettle to boil, and try to sort through the chaos in my head. The call with my mom keeps replaying on a loop—her anger, her fear, the way she hung up without saying goodbye. I've never heard her sound like that before. So cold. So certain that I'm making a mistake.
Maybe I am.
The kettle starts to hum, and I pull a mug from the cabinet, dropping in a chamomile tea bag to calm my nerves.
I need to go back to Boston.
The realization settles over me like a weight. I've been gone for weeks now. My freelance clients are probably wondering if I've fallen off the face of the earth. I have deadlines I've been ignoring, emails I haven't answered, a life I've put completely on pause for a man I just met.
But what happens when I go back?
Phoenix lives in California. I live in Boston. We haven't talked about what this is, what we are, whether there's even a future beyond this cabin. Are we together? Dating? In a relationship? The words feel too small for what's happenedbetween us, and also too big. We've known each other for weeks, but it feels like years.
I want to be with him, that much I know for certain. But I have no idea how that would even work. Long distance? One of us moving? The logistics seem impossible, and I’m not even sure if I want to bring it up and burst our little bubble.
Real life is going to intrude eventually. It always does.
The kettle whistles, and I pour the boiling water over the tea bag, watching the liquid turn golden brown. Steam rises in curls, fogging the window above the sink.
Outside, I hear the crunch of tires on snow.
My whole body relaxes at the sound. Phoenix is back. I didn't realize how much I missed him even on this little trip away. The questions about Boston and the future can wait. Right now, I just want to wrap myself around him and pretend the outside world doesn't exist for a little while longer.
I leave the tea steeping and move toward the door.
