I loved him. But this was crazy.
I found weapons in almost every nook and cranny of the cabin. There was a knife in the pantry, a machete underthe couch, and a literal bow and arrow strapped beneath the kitchen table. Then there was the dresser drawer filled with canned sardines, and I actually gagged a little. Absolutely not.
Mason was the only member of the family who hadn’t gone into dentistry, and it showed.
I boxed up the weapons and other unusual survival items and set them in the hallway closet until I could figure out what to do with them.
Finally finished with the bulk of the interior cleanup, I turned to the corner of the house I had saved for last: the bookshelf.
There were only two books on it, both written by men who probably had beards and strong opinions about firewood. One was titledSurvival Plants of the Pacific West, and the other was simplyFire.
I tossed my brother’s survival books into a box to donate with a surprising lack of empathy for a book lover. Then, after meticulously removing every speck of dust, I began placing my own books on the shelves.
Once all of my favorite volumes were placed like royalty on their thrones, I flopped onto the saggy red couch and pulledThe Wildflower Apartmentby Lindy Parker off the shelf. It was one of my favorite books of all time. It was a women’s fiction novel with a romantic subplot. My love for reading spread across a variety of genres, but that one was always my favorite.
The story was about a girl named Ana who received a cryptic letter from her late grandmother and a train ticket to Spain. On impulse, she uses the ticket and travels to a little city calledCudilleroand ends up meeting a carpenter who helps her find a version of herself she’d long forgotten.
I hadn’t taken a train to Spain to find myself, but I’d taken a Sprinter van to Big Bear, and that was the best I could do.
It was my comfort read, my reset button. I told myself I’d read one chapter, just one.
Naturally, I passed out by page three.
CHAPTER 3
Iwoke the next morning to light seeping through the windows, the yellowish-orange hue behind my eyelids making them flutter open. I yawned and sat up, spottingThe Wildflower Apartmenton the floor, its pages wide open. I quickly threw off the blanket, picked up the book, and smoothed out the wrinkled page bent by my careless dozing.
The cabin was already heating up to an almost insufferable level. I’d need the AC fixed before I melted.
Groggily, I gathered the trash bags by the door and began hauling them outside. I was halfway to the bins when…
Bam!
Something hit the backs of my knees and sent me sprawling onto the gravel driveway.
“Oh my gosh—Luna! Luna, STOP!”
I was flat on my back now, staring up at the tops of the trees, and could feel the unmistakable sensation of slobberhitting my cheek by what could only be described as a four-legged marshmallow.
But despite slobbery dog kisses being a little gross I couldn’t help but giggle.
“Well, hi there,” I said to the giant white dog, still licking me like I was made of peanut butter. “Personal space is a thing, you know.”
“Are you okay?” a breathless male voice asked. Two strong hands gripped my arms and gently pulled me to my feet. I blinked.
And then I really blinked.
He was tall, wearing a black T-shirt and matching joggers. An AirPod was squished into one of his ears, and he carried a hiking backpack. Inky-dark hair covered his head and fell across his forehead into a pair of navy-blue eyes that were staring at me with alarm and concern.
“I am so sorry,” he said, tugging Luna back with the broken leash. “I swear she’s usually better behaved.”
I wiped slobber off my cheek and then brushed the gravel off my pants. “Don’t worry about it. I really don’t mind.”
He knelt down to tie the frayed ends of the leash. “She’s not typically so wild. But she’s got a thing for trash. It’s kind of been a problem since she was a puppy. She rolls in it, eats it—I’ve had to put locks on all my trash bins.”
I laughed despite myself. “Well, she clearly knows quality garbage when she sees it.”
He gathered my trash bags and quickly helped me toss them into the bins.
