I ease the snowmobile to a stop, cutting the engine in one smooth motion. The crunch of snow under my boots seems loud as I dismount and stretch, working out the kinks from the ride. The air is crisp, clean in a way that makes my lungs ache after months of rig smog and the acrid stench of burned metal.
“You must be Matt!”
The voice catches me off guard, and I turn quickly. A young woman stands on the porch of the main cabin, bundled up in a parka that does little to hide her curves. Her cheeks are flushed from the cold, and her blue eyes shine as she takes me in. I’m struck by how young she seems—definitely not what I hadexpected. Finn had mentioned his sister would be here, but I’d imagined someone closer to my age, early thirties, not someone in her twenties.
“Yes,” I say, aiming for a friendly look, though it probably comes off more like a grimace. “You must be Eliza.”
She descends the steps with a grace that belies the icy conditions. “Finn said you'd be arriving today. How was the trip?”
“Long,” I say, “but quiet. Exactly what the doctor ordered, I guess.” I wince internally at my choice of words. I don't want to invite questions about why I'm here.
Eliza's features soften, and I wonder if Finn has told her about my situation. There's a knowing look in her eyes that makes me both uneasy and strangely reassured. “Well, you're in the right place for peace and quiet. Come on, I'll show you to your cabin.”
As we walk, Eliza points out distinct features of the retreat—the main lodge, the smaller guest cabins, the path leading down to the creek that gives the place its name. I try to pay attention, but I find my gaze drawn to her more often than not. There's something about her, a radiance and vitality that seems at odds with the winter landscape around us.
“And here we are,” she says, stopping in front of a cozy-looking cabin. “Home sweet home for the next several weeks.”
I swallow hard as I read the sign. Heart's Haven. The name feels almost mocking. My heart doesn't need a haven—but my mind could use a refuge. “Thanks,” I say. “It looks … peaceful.”
Eliza's expression fills with understanding, and I wonder if she can see right through me, past the polite conversation, to the turmoil underneath. “If you need anything, let me know. Sometimes a little company can help, even when you think you want to be alone.”
As I open my mouth to reply, the whine of a snowmobile engine cuts through the air. I was hoping to be here on my own, to find some solitude, but it seems the universe has other plans. A Polaris pulls up, and a tall, rugged-looking man kills the engine. As soon as he unstraps a young girl from the back seat, she takes off like a shot.
“Zaza! Zaza!” The little girl, maybe two or three, flings herself at Eliza's legs.
Eliza laughs, scooping the child up into her arms. “Hey there, munchkin. Where did you come from?”
The man approaches, shaking his head with a puzzled expression. “Sorry, Sis. She got away from me the minute we arrived. You know how she is when she sees you.”
“No worries.” Eliza turns to me, the little girl now perched on her hip. “Matt, this is my oldest brother, Kane, and his daughter, Hailey. Guys, this is Matt, Finn's friend from college.”
I glance at Kane, who returns the gesture with a scrutinizing look. I can almost see the gears turning in his head, wondering what I'm doing here, and if I'm a threat to his family. “Nice to meet you,” I say, then turn to Hailey, grateful for the distraction. “And it's very nice to meet you too, Miss Hailey.”
The little girl giggles, burying her face in Eliza's shoulder. “She's shy,” Eliza explains, but I can see Hailey peeking at me curiously.
“She takes after her old man,” Kane says. “Listen, I hate to drop and run, but I've got to get back to the docks. The boat is giving me troubles. You okay with the munchkin for a couple of hours?”
Eliza's eyes light up as she bounces Hailey lightly. “Of course. We're going to have lots of fun, aren't we, Hailey?”
“Fun with Zaza!” Hailey agrees enthusiastically.
As Kane revs up the ATV and heads out, envy creeps in at their easy family dynamic.
“Zaza?” I ask, wondering about the nickname.
Eliza laughs, the sound warm and inviting. “She couldn't say 'Eliza' when she was learning to talk. It came out as 'Zaza,' and it stuck, but we're working on it.”
“It suits you,” I say.
Our eyes lock, and a jolt of ... something shoots through me. Recognition? Empathy? Attraction? I look away, unsettled by the intensity of her gaze.
“Well,” Eliza says, breaking the moment, “I should let you get settled. Dinner is at six in the main lodge if you'd like to join us. If not, there's food in your cabin, and you're welcome to cook for yourself.”
“Thanks,” I say, eager for solitude. “I think I'll get unpacked and maybe take a walk, try to clear my head a bit.”
“Sounds like a plan,” she says. “Be careful if you go into the woods. The trails are marked, but it's easy to get turned around if you don’t know them well. And keep an eye out for wildlife—we've had some bear sightings in recent weeks.”
“Bears. Right. Because that's what I need right now.” The sarcasm slips out before I can stop it.
Her face shows compassion. “Stick to the marked trails and you'll be fine. Sometimes a little danger puts other things into perspective.”
As Eliza walks away, Hailey waving goodbye over her shoulder, I'm struck by her words.Perspective.Isn't that what I'm here for? To figure out why I survived, why I'm still standing when better men aren't? Her comment about danger lingers. Does she know about the rig? About the men I lost? Or is this a general observation, the kind you say without realizing how deeply it cuts? Either way, it hits hard—because danger is all I know and finding perspective in that has never been easy.
I shake my head, trying to clear it of the memories threatening to surface. I grab my bags and head into the cabin.It's cozy inside, all warm wood and soft fabrics. A fire is already laid in the stone fireplace, ready to be lit. The kitchen is small but well-equipped, and through an open door, I can see a bedroom with a bed that looks infinitely more inviting than my bunk on the rig.
I drop my bags and sink onto the couch, exhausted. The journey here, both physical and emotional, catches up with me all at once. I close my eyes for a moment and regret it.
Fire. Screaming. The sickening lurch as the rig collapses...
I jerk upright. Sweat beads on my forehead despite the chill in the air. Another nightmare. They've followed me even to this peaceful place. I rub my face, trying to shake off the lingering terror. This is going to be harder than I thought.
