Page 10

There are chairs on the small deck, wind chimes dangling over them, and frilly curtains covering the windows.

I have no idea who lives there, but it’s comforting to not be the only one up here.

Hobby Straight is elevated just above the rest of Wilde’s End, and Wilde said they keep the cabins here for anyone passing through or new people who want to trial living here before they build permanent accommodation. It’s just out of sight of the road I drove off, and multiple times through the day and night, I listen to the cars pass and ache to have my freedom again.

Instead of being stuck here, at the mercy of these people.

I’m about to climb the stairs of the cabin when a voice makes me pause.

“Oh, yoo-hoo! Little intruder!”

“Intruder?” I glance the woman’s way, and I’m surprised to find one of the most stunning people I’ve ever seen. She’s leaning over her balcony, arm covered in golden bracelets waving over her head.

“You gave everyone a real scare. Come have a tea with me, sweet thing. I want to hear all about your story.”

It’s on the tip of my tongue to turn her down, but she seems friendly enough, and tea sounds amazing. I’ve been given a small staple of food rations and told there is a well where I can collect water, but beyond that, I’m on my own. “Let me wash up, and I’ll be over.”

Her smile lights up her face as she disappears inside, while I grab a towel, toiletries, and a change of clothes from the luggage I retrieved from my car. There is no bathroom in my cabin, so I make my way to the small shower stall settled outside between cabins two and three.

It’s exactly as creepy as it sounds.

All wood, creaky door, no lighting. Just me and my flashlight and a tiny, unreliable lock to keep my naked self protected from the wild outside. Maybe Wilde will take pity on me tomorrow and pick me up early enough to shower while it’s still light out.

The old pipes groan as I turn the overhead shower on, not convinced that I’ll be able to achieve actual cleanliness out here, but I give it my all. Scrubbing my hair right down to my scalp, exfoliating every inch of skin, cleansing every bit of dirt from my pores and nails.

It feels so good to wash the sweat and dirt away across the floor, but my relief is short-lived, knowing I’ll be like this again tomorrow.

I wasn’t made for manual labor.

After returning my things to my cabin, I head across to the other one. The one that feels deceptively warm and inviting, sitting in the middle of this creepy forest.

My knock on her door is hesitant, but she appears right away.

“Come on in, honey. I’m Queenie. I was out of town for a few days, but you were hot gossip from the moment I got back. Sasha, right? Oh, look at you. Cute as a bug.”

I manage a smile that feels like one I haven’t worn in a long time. “I didn’t realize I was so infamous.”

“Not much happens around here, so it’s easy to cause a stir.” She leads me toward the table in the middle of the room. The whole place is filled with color, from rugs to cushions and throws to a towering cabinet of hand-painted sculptures and artwork. There isn’t an inch of free space in here.

“How long have you lived here?” falls out before I can decide if it’s a rude question. Wilde said these cabins were short-term, but I’d guess Queenie didn’t just move in.

“A few years.”

“Oh, wow.” I cast my eyes around the cozy, slightly cramped space. “Why don’t you make them build you something bigger?”

“I haven’t decided if I want to settle here yet.”

“After years?”

She smiles, delicate cheeks popping with dimples. “Living here gives me direct access to the road. Sometimes I like to go north. Sometimes I like to go south. Sometimes I like to stay home. Rarely do I stay in the same place for too long.”

Queenie sits at the table that she’s piled with cookies, slices, and cakes surrounding a fat teapot and two cups. My stomach growls, and she must hear it because she waves a hand over the food.

“Eat as much as you like.”

Thank fuck for that. Living off seeds, nuts, and raw vegetables isn’t cutting it. I’m lost with what the hell I’m supposed to do with flour, and the internet up here won’t connect long enough to help me out.

“When you say north …” I say around a bite of cheesecake. “You ever go as far as Portland?”