I started to laugh. “You’re insane. And wrong.” The Lodge had two functions: as a food and hang-out place for people with year-round passes, and as a hotel that, in the summer, remained half-empty. We rotated between checking people in, answering questions at the information station, and cleaning tables during the busy hours. The strangers, the uncertainty, the way things changed every day—all of it made me nervous. Ryan was the constant that kept me grounded.
He stepped closer, hands held between us, like he wasn’t sure what to do with them. “You always did whatever you wanted. Ignored the assholes. Didn’t fake it, or smile when you didn’t mean it. Smiled, and laughed, whenever you did mean it. And when you smiled at me—” He dipped his head, like he was remembering. “You’re not afraid to just stand there, be yourself. And then I finally got up the nerve to ask you out, and you kind of said yes, but then changed your mind, so I was confused. I figured you were just trying to be nice, but didn’t really want to.”
“No, I acted that way because I was terrified,” I said. “It was all so overwhelming, I couldn’t even think about how I was supposed to act. Fearless is the exact opposite of what I was. I’m scared all the time,” I said.
“Are you sure?”
I opened my mouth to respond, but I wasn’t sure anymore. Maybe the feeling I had was not exactly fear—maybe I’d spent too long looking at it from a single perspective. Maybe I couldn’t tell the two apart: the will for something to change, the fear of the unknown. Possibly it was both.
The walkie-talkie crackled on the floor beside Cole.
“Well, this is sweet,” Cole mumbled. “And possibly not the best time, you think?”
But Ryan ignored him. “Kelsey, I’m not who you think. I’m not some hero.”
Why are you here? Cole had asked him. And suddenly, I didn’t want to know the truth. I could see on his face—he was about to become someone else. I could feel him shifting, his face cracking and rearranging even as he spoke, and I didn’t want him to. Like the picture of my mother on the passport. Like my own. Another side, another possibility, something meant to stay hidden that would become overexposed in the light.
“It doesn’t matter,” I said.
“I did it,” he said, before I could stop him. But his words made no sense. Did what?
He cringed, ran a hand down his face. “It was me. My car. I was on my way to the station, and I was late, and I took the turn too fast—and I was on the wrong side, just for a moment.”
My heart stopped, my mind shifted.
The headlights. I took the shattered memory, filled in the gaps: A green Jeep. A boy in the seat, a shock of light brown hair, eyes wide in terror—
“I got back over in time, but it was too late. The lights must’ve scared you and you cut the wheel and—”
And I fell.
How had I not seen it? His need to come after me, to save me, to keep on saving me, to make sure I was okay…motivated by his own guilt. Not because of me.
“Oh my God,” Annika said.
My mouth must have been open, my face twisted and unsure, because Ryan winced, letting out a long exhale. “Yeah,” he said. “That’s what I thought.”
His fault, and yet. “And then you came after me,” I said. “You made a mistake, and you were scared, and you took the risk to come after me.”
He shook his head. “I lied to you. To everyone. I didn’t say anything, and people started thinking what they wanted, and it all got out of control. And now they think I’m something I’m not. I was so scared I was too late….”
Because I was his mistake. His wrong to right. The guilt he could not live with.
He insisted, the mayor had said. He was already climbing down into the car. He insisted it be him.
And he was still coming after me. Except. It wasn’t me he was after, it was himself he was trying to fix. A guilt to work off, for his own redemption.
I put up my hand, to keep him back. “Enough. Okay,” I said.
“I’m trying to apologize here,” he said.
“I already said. It’s okay.”
Cole coughed. “Are you kidding me right now? Can we maybe not do this right this second?” He cursed, and Annika sank to the ground next to him, pressed her hands with electric-blue nails into his side.
But Ryan continued. “It’s not okay. I ran you off the road and called nine-one-one and never said it was me. Never took responsibility. Didn’t want to lose my license and get kicked out of the department. And I let them treat me like a hero, and never said anything. I wanted to. I just couldn’t. Partly because it was you, and I already liked you, and I didn’t want you to see me any other way. Mostly, though, I’m a coward. It got out of control, took on a life of its own. I just wanted it to go away.” The words poured out as if he couldn’t stop them. As if this were a last confession, because he might not get another chance. He paused, looked down. “I thought it would. I thought everyone would just forget.”
“Okay. You’re forgiven. Just stop.” I turned around. Because what Ryan didn’t understand was that as soon as he shifted, so did I. I became nothing more than a debt to fulfill. A regret to undo.
“Just like that?” he asked.
As if he thought this conversation was simple. “Yes, just like that,” I said. “You’re forgiven. And you don’t have to do this anymore. You didn’t have to do this. Your slate is clear.”
“That’s what I’m trying to explain,” he said, and his hand was on my elbow, turning me back around. “That’s why I couldn’t say it before. Kelsey, I didn’t follow you home to wipe my slate clear. I wanted to tell you, but not for my conscience.”
“Kelsey…,” Annika said in warning. She had picked up the walkie-talkie, which had wound down to silence. “What are they doing out there?”
But Ryan was staring at my mouth, and we were in a dark corner of the room. And Cole and Annika were right there, right behind us, and there was blood on the floor and my hands. There was a nightmare on the other side of that wall. “Something’s going to happen,” I whispered.
“Hey, we’re going to be okay, right?” The side of Ryan’s mouth quirked up as he reached for me, and that’s when I knew he was lying for the both of us.
Carve out a piece of your world, and live inside it.
I cut my eyes to the side, as in We have an audience.
And the side of Ryan’s mouth quirked up, as in I don’t care.
Unafraid to just stand there in front of me, as himself.
Somebody mumbled under their breath, but I didn’t care. I didn’t listen. We’re going to be okay.
My pulse kicked up another notch.
Ryan pulled me closer, into the corner, and he kissed me, his lips soft on mine, his arms looped around my waist. Everything else fell away—the walls, the people, the versions of us hidden under floorboards and lies.
We were safe, and whoever we wanted to be, as long as we stayed inside this room. I wanted to stay and never leave. My hands made their way to his back, and then his shoulders, and then his hair, and I felt him pull me impossibly closer. But it was starting to feel like the type of kiss we were scared to break.
Prepare for anything, but know you’re always safe here.
I gasped, and Ryan pulled back.
“We’re missing something,” I said. “There’s another way.”
There was a way out. A way out without guns or weapons or bribery money. Without having to make that choice to trade my life for theirs.
This room, this house, was not meant to call for help. It was not meant to be a last stand. It was meant to protect, until we could find another way.
If my mom didn’t want the outside world to come for us, then there was another way out, for ourselves.
I smiled, a hand to my mouth, because I was sure of it. There was a way out of this room.
Ryan looked like he was still trying to regain his bearings after the kiss. I watched his face as everything shifted back—the walls becoming walls again, the people becoming people, the outside trying to get in.
“No, listen,” I said, his arms still linked around my waist. “There’s a way out. There has to be.”