“Bring that over here. I’ve made space, see?” He waves his hatchet in the direction of the garage, where we can possibly cram a few more things on top of the boxes inside.
As we’re trying to jam the kayak between a hanging bike and a clear box filled with fragile-looking figurines, Uncle Rhodes comes over to supervise, hatchet swinging at his side.
“Feel free to keep any furniture you find in the house. It won’t do me any good sitting in the garage.”
“Awesome, thanks,” I say.
We’ve finally cleared out the cabin and removed the broken window by lunchtime, and Uncle Rhodes has reconnected the power and plumbing, so we cook up the last of Korren’s instant noodles, with a promise that I’ll replenish his stores. Then we eat them on the porch, looking out into the forest.
“Why did you come back here, after everything that happened?” Korren asks, glancing my way. “I think I would’ve been too ashamed to show my face again.”
“Maybe I’m an idiot, then,” I say. “But I fucking love Copper Creek.”
“What about it?”
I give Korren a flat look. “What the hell are you doing out here in the middle of nowhere if you can’t see how amazing this place is?”
Korren’s expression closes down, which probably means we’re touching on that topic he refuses to discuss. “It was the right job for me. That’s all.”
“Sure. And you’re planning to stay here long-term just because of a job? Most people wouldn’t be willing to move somewhere so remote. They’ll come up for a summer, but that’s all.”
“I’m not most people,” Korren says humorlessly. I need to steer this conversation somewhere safer or he’ll stop talking.
“Well, for those of us who do like living here, it’s the remoteness that makes Copper Creek special,” I say. “It’s like the fucking last frontier. One little settlement, and then wilderness in every direction. Plus, it’s fucking beautiful. Surely you have at least some appreciation for mountains and lakes and shit.”
“I guess.” Korren still looks wary. “I’ve done a bit of backpacking. But not for a while now.”
I file that away under things about Korren that surprise me. His scowl is so practiced and his features so hardened that I’d been imagining him as a shit-talking motorcyclist or something. Maybe a mechanic. Probably a heavy drinker, with a few tattoos.
Now I’m starting to think I’ve got him all wrong. He’s obviously dealing with some shit, but underneath I think he might be a total softy.
We dump our dishes in the sink and start on the repairs, and by the end of the afternoon we have the new roofing iron screwed down, the window replaced, and the door back on its hinges. Korren hasn’t done any building before, but he knows his way around the tools, and we work well together.
Once we’re finished, it’s too late to drop by the secondhand store, so we’re stuck with a bed frame, a sagging old couch, and a rickety table for tonight.
Uncle Rhodes, Aunt Linda, and the kids come by to check out our progress on the cabin, and the boys track mud all through the front room, which we luckily haven’t gotten around to cleaning yet. They’ve brought all the stuff I’d stored in their house while I was staying—it’s thoughtful of them, but it also feels like they’re emphatically kicking me out.
Aunt Linda gives us a couple slices of lasagna for dinner and wishes us a good night, and I hope Korren doesn’t notice the suspicious way she’s eyeing him. Then they all troop off and leave us standing awkwardly in the meadow.
“So,” I say.
“So.”
“Do you have a camping mattress you can use tonight?”
“Yeah.” Korren suddenly sounds like he’s regretting agreeing to this.
While Korren makes a trip to the campervan to collect his things, I do my best to clean up the dust and wood shavings and mud. The couch smells faintly of piss, which means some mouse has probably made a nest inside, but we don’t have anything else to sit on.
By the time Korren is back, the mosquitoes are out in full force, so we close all the windows and sink onto the smelly couch to eat our lasagna. We start out sitting as far to either side as we can, but it’s a small couch, and the sagging cushionskeep nudging us closer until I give up and let gravity press us together.
I’ll never admit it to Korren, but this is really nice. Having a house again, and someone to share it with. Someone I don’t mind spending time with at all.
Chapter 14
Korren
I dream I’m driving through a one-way tunnel, and it keeps getting darker and darker, and I’m searching for the brakes but they aren’t there and I can’t slow down. I hear the truck driving the wrong way toward me from far off, and there’s nothing I can do to avoid it. I fumble with my seatbelt, but my hands are slippery with sweat, and I can’t get it off. The truck is coming closer, the lights suddenly cutting through the darkness and blinding me. I’m thrashing around now, trying to free myself, and I finally get the seatbelt off but it’s too late because the truck is hurtling around the corner and—
