He grabs the laundry basket and goes right in, as efficient as ever. People don’t lock their doors around here. The two sets of keys in existence I leave for guests when they rent the place. The fresh air of the forest and the damp earth around the lake follows us inside, mingling with the strong wood scent.
Sam peers around, making sure he’s not about to leave me overnight with a bear chilling in the bathroom.
The tidy living room and the small sage-colored open kitchen I adore are as I left them after Memorial Day weekend. I can’t afford to hire somebody to clean after tourists, so I always make sure the cabin is spotless.
I do my best to reassure him. “I’ll be alright.” I hug him tightly and his eyes get misty.
“If there’s any—”
“I’ll call you. I promise.”
Sam peers at me over his shoulder one last time, a litany of advice restrained behind his tight smile before he softly shuts the door behind him.
Alone for the first time, my shoulders slump, and all the emotions I’d pushed back claw their way out like a pack of rabid raccoons.
My body is on autopilot as my feet take me to the linen closet and I fix the bed in one of the bedrooms. With my hands busy, my mind is free to go through the entire scene again and again.
The heartbreak bleeds into my limbs. My body aches. It reminds me of one winter when a kid shoved me into the freezing lake.
The soft bed molds around me and the darkness of the room hides my shame. The burning sensation behind my eyes becomes intolerable and the air rushes out of my lungs as a wail I can’t hold back anymore.
In the solitude, I allow myself to sob uncontrollably and mourn the past eight years of my life. To blame myself for being with him for so long, ignoring the red flags. Jared hardly touched me in the past few months. He stopped showing any little signs of affection. I was starved for touch, but he always found an excuse.
What does that say about me? That I’m stupid or willfully naive. I can’t ignore the truth anymore, not when half the town witnessed it, and the other half will find out by tomorrow.
I don’t know how long I’ve been crying before exhaustion settles in my bones and my eyelids grow heavy. Before everything fades to black, I remember it’s already Friday and shoot a text to my boss. The idea of going back to work in a couple of hours is ridiculous. I’ll probably get an earful from Carl, but I’m too drained to care.
The solid thud of the front door echoes through the cabin. Alarm bells pull me out of my restless sleep, filled with flashes of Jared and Caroline kissing, memories of waiting alone at the curb, laundry basket in my arms, paperwork, dingy offices, and house doors opening over and over again. My mouth is dry and the back of my hand finds strands of hair plastered to my damp forehead.
I slept through the evening again. The room is pitch black, but that’s the least of my worries as the distinctshuffling of shoes on the floor and a low grunt reach my bedroom. No one would come here in the middle of the night. My mind races straight to Jared driving back early and figuring out I’d hid here.
I’m not ready to confront him.
My fingers quiver atop the floral comforter and I struggle to steady my breath. I slip from the bed as silently as possible, squeezing the life out of the old pillow I’ve kept all these years. Leaning against the doorframe, my ears twitch with the effort of listening closely for sounds coming from the living room.
A bag hits the wooden floor, and a deep inhale makes me break out in a cold sweat. Heavy footsteps circle the couch and move toward the kitchen. Jared would’ve yelled my name by now.
It’s a thief.The realization drops to the bottom of my gut like a bag of river stones. I don’t have any valuables here, but I don’t want the place trashed. My phone is buried somewhere between the sheets, out of battery by now, and I curse myself for not remembering to charge it since I got here.
The intruder turns on the warm light over the kitchen island and it floods the corridor up to the bedroom. It’s too late to creep out of the house now, I’m trapped. My palms are clammy and several different plans whiz through my head until I decide against self-preservation. I can’t afford to have the cabin ruined. That’s the single thing I focus on, stepping gingerly into the small hallway.
The intruder’s steps are slow and deliberate. To my horror, they’re getting closer as a looming shadow ripples over the wooden panels of the wall. My heart rattles against my ribs.
It’s now or never.
Holding my pillow-shield and gulping down air I round the corner to a sight I wasn’t expecting. Instead of a petty thief opening the cabinets and pulling the drawers, a frowning, well-dressed man is scanning the rooms, arms crossed over his chest.
If he’s a burglar, he’s the most put-together one I’ve ever seen. Not that I’ve met a lot of them.
His clothes are definitely not from a discount store. They’re fitted and show off his broad shoulders and lean frame. His chestnut hair is styled to perfection.
He still hasn’t noticed me. The panic slowly makes room for curiosity, and I take another careless step in his direction. The man’s stiff posture makes me straighten my back, so I won’t look like a creature who’s been living in a cave for the past twenty-six years.
A half a beat later his head snaps in my direction and our gazes collide, bringing back the sense of danger I was so stupid to ignore. I panic and throw the pillow at him with a squeal, in what must be the most idiotic blitz attack in the history of self-defense.
The worn-out pillow barely brushes his torso and lands at his feet with a muffled thud.
He’s confused for a moment, staring at the soft lump on the floor, but his sharp eyes shift in my direction and then turn analytical, taking me in from head to toe. A deep scowl creasing his forehead tells me he’s not pleased with his conclusion.
