“Carter?”
I turn.
“Are you for real?”
I cock my head.
She holds up a hand and starts ticking off fingers. “You towed my car. Gave me a place to crash. Built snowmen with my daughter. Stood up to my ex. And now you’re basically putting us up in a safe house. Who does all that for a complete stranger? And more importantly… why?”
I stride over and trap her against the wall, holding her gaze with mine. Lowering my head, I graze my lips lightly across hers then settle them near her ear. “Why do you think, Kenna?” Then I return my lips to hers and kiss her. I kiss her deep and hard, answering her question the best way I know how.
Chapter Thirty-two
Kenna
I can still feel the kiss lingering on my lips. Even in what seemed like my darkest hour, his touch grounded me. Which is why I’m so grateful for his offer to stay at the cabin. I don’t understand it, but I’m grateful for it. I still wonder why he’s doing all this. He barely knows me. I could be anyone. A liar. A criminal. A kidnapper.
For some reason, he trusts me. And I’m beginning to trust him more than I’ve trusted anyone. Maybe more than I should based on past experiences. But he’s shown time and time again, this isn’t the same, and he isn’t them.
I’m grateful Amelia has fallen asleep in the back seat, because Carter wasn’t kidding when he said he was going to make sure we weren’t followed. We wound through town three times, headed toward the city, then doubled back before taking back roads up north. Thankfully, all the snow has been plowed, leaving large piles lining the streets, but the roads clear and passable.
And even though I’m fairly sure we haven’t been followed, I drive the entire way with one eye on the rearview mirror as I follow Carter down the winding roads.
More than ninety minutes after leaving his house, we’re pulling up to a cabin. It’s small and a bit dilapidated, but Carter was right, nobody will find us here. For that reason alone, I already love the place.
I park my car next to his and get out, zipping up my coat as the cold wind swirls around me. I eye the frozen lake out front. The snow-covered trees lining the sides of the property. The icicles hanging off the roof. But the lane leading from the roadup to the steps is clear. “How did this get plowed? It’s so remote here.”
“We contract with a service to plow when there’s more than four inches. We also have a caretaker who comes around every few weeks to make sure the power is still on and trees haven’t fallen and things like that.”
“Good thing,” I say, scanning both sides of what I think is a gravel driveway, studying the feet-high mounds of snow. “Because we’d never have gotten in here without having four-wheel drive.”
He opens the back door and pulls a sleepy Amelia from her car seat. Her head slumps on his shoulder as he carries her inside. She wakes up when he sets her on the couch.
She yawns. “Are we here?”
In the car, before she fell asleep, I gave her the abridged version of what was happening. That we weren’t going to Florida… yet… but to a log cabin in the woods. She was still sad to be leaving Calloway Creek, but she was happy we’d only be an hour away from everyone she’d come to love over the past weeks.
“Sorry it’s so cold,” Carter says, adjusting the thermostat. “We turn the heat way down when nobody is here. I’ll start a fire.”
“Why is there a fish on the wall?” Amelia asks.
It’s now that I take a really good look around. Not only is there a fish, but fishing poles of various sizes are lining one wall, and a massive set of antlers hang over the fireplace.
The main room is a pretty good size. The kitchen area is larger than what we had in Carter’s basement, with a full-size, yet ancient model refrigerator, a microwave, and a small oven. The table that seats four looks like it might have been handcrafted from fallen trees.
“This is a fishing cabin,” Carter explains. He points to a fishing pole. “See these? When the lake isn’t frozen over, you can catch fish and eat them for dinner.”
“Yucky.”
“What are you talking about, yucky?” I say. “You eat fish.”
“Not from a lake.”
“Where do you think fish come from?”
“The store.”
Carter and I both laugh, and a little more of the tension that’s been creeping in again leaves my shoulders.
