More… I’m trying to get a look at the real person underneath. The one who’s not always putting up walls or running from things she’s not ready to face.
I’d been distracted by the idea of her ever since our ride—the way the wind kicked up her hair and the laughter felt so easy.
But tonight, I find myself making my way to her cabin, not because I want another excuse to flirt or distract her, but because there’s something about her that feels unfinished.
I’m not used to feeling I’m needed, but with Aurora? It’s different. She doesn’t look at me as if I’m just here for fun. She actually sees me. The thing is, I’m not sure if I’m even ready forwhat that means. But that doesn’t mean I won’t show up to see if I can figure it out.
I roll my bike up the dirt path, the engine purring underneath me until I stop it near her car. The gravel crunches beneath my boots as I approach her place, and right away, everything feels off.
Tire tracks.
Odd-looking tire tracks.
They’re fresh, making a noticeable path down the driveway. They’ve disturbed the gravel just enough that it catches my attention. And I know that this is where the paranoia kicks in. It’s a small town, and maybe people come and go without anyone noticing, but I notice. I always notice.
I check the front door. Locked, as expected. But then I notice the window latch. It’s off. Though I know it’s easy to dismiss as nothing, I’m not about to ignore it. The latch should have been secure, but it seems as if someone’s been tampering with it.
The hairs on the back of my neck prickle, and I let my instincts take over.
“Shit,” I mutter under my breath, moving quickly toward the window, checking the frame, pushing the latch back into place with a little more force than I need to.
I get that it’s easy to dismiss the little signs. It’s easy to brush things off when you’re convinced you’re just being paranoid. But paranoia’s saved my ass more times than I care to admit. I can’t let my guard down.
Not after the life I’ve lived.
I shake my head, taking a deep breath before I knock softly on the door.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
It’s only a second before I hear her footsteps. My stomach tightens, but I push the feeling aside.
The door creaks open just a little.
Aurora stands there, looking a little flustered. Her expression is guarded, eyes flicking over me with a subtle wariness, like she’s trying to figure out my angle. I can see her glance down the driveway, probably noticing the tire tracks I just saw, but she doesn’t mention them.
“Finn,” she says. “What are you doing here?”
I smile, trying to deflect the unease in her voice, but I catch the flicker of hesitation in her gaze. She’s not letting her guard down easily. And why should she? I’ve only known her for a few days. She has no reason to trust me yet.
“I just came to make sure you weren’t being haunted by some mysterious stranger, or, you know, to check if you’ve been eaten by any wild animals out here in the woods,” I joke, but I’m still watching her closely, seeing the way she doesn’t completely buy it.
The look in her eyes is a mix of curiosity and caution, and I wonder if she’s already second-guessing the trust she’s willing to put in me.
I frown a little. “Also, the window latch is a little off. Just be careful, alright?"
She nods. “Right… so, what really brings you to my humble abode?” she asks, stepping back to let me in.
I follow her inside, but I can’t stop my eyes from scanning the room. Her cabin’s cozy, warm even, but I still can’t shake the feeling that something’s off. I don’t know what yet, but I feel it in my bones.
She catches my eye as I glance around.
“Everything okay?” she asks, leaning against the counter, trying to act casual, but I can see the way her hands twitch a little.
She’s picking up on it too.
“Yeah,” I say slowly, pushing a little bit further into the room. I wait for a beat before I speak again. “You sure everything’s okay here?”
Her smile falters just a fraction, but she doesn’t give in.
