“And then you learned I have a gas fireplace.” Glancing over at the gray stone mantel, I try not to think of the one at my brother’s house, and how this one seems empty in comparison.
Overall, the entire cabin is pretty empty; sure, it came fully stocked with handcrafted pine furniture that matches the paneling on the walls and vaulted ceilings, but since I can’t acknowledge my old life without risking my safety, no personal effects decorate the place.
The lakefront and mountainside views through the ceiling-to-floor windows, though, are almost enough to make up for it.
Almost.
After a prolonged silence, Caleb jumps back into fixing the dishwasher, and I strain the pasta, emptying both pots into respective serving dishes and setting them in the oven for a minute to cool down.
When he’s finished, I offer him a plate, and we eat standing at the island, staring out the back windows.
There’s another cabin just beyond the lake, uninhabited for years, according to the locals. Movement catches my eye, though, a dark figure lurking in the shadowy corner of a window upstairs, and an uneasy feeling settles in my gut, putting me on edge.
Then I blink, and the figure’s gone, the house as still as always. Leaving me to wonder if I made it all up.
Spearing a piece of pasta with his fork, Caleb nudges me with his shoulder. “So, you gonna attend the art show coming up? The focus is on indigenous folklore.”
I poke at my food, pushing it around my plate. “That sounds interesting, but I don’t know…”
“If you feel weird about the crowd, I can always escort you.”
A cramp flares in my stomach, and I shift my eyes down, discomfort tangling in my nerves.
“It could be fun,” he continues, shoving another forkful of pasta into his mouth. “That’s all I’m saying. Champagne and appetizers, and you get to judge people all night. What more could you possibly want for a winter evening?”
“I’ll think about it,” I say, even though I’ve already made up my mind.
Satisfied with that, he finishes his food and washes his plate in the sink, drying it and putting it away quickly. I walk with him to the front door, my body going stiff when he stops to pull me into another hug.
Pressing a soft kiss to my cheek, Caleb pulls back, and I try not to seize up completely at his forwardness. My brain repeats that he’s just an affectionate guy, and that he doesn’t mean any harm, but my body rejects the sentiment.
My pulse thuds loudly at the base of my throat as he releases me, and he grins. “I’ll call you tomorrow, okay, Angel?”
I nod, disgust immobilizing my vocal cords, and watch him descend the porch and head to where his Jeep is parked.
Going back inside, I shut the door and secure the three deadbolts, peering through the little glass window at the top of the door. Caleb sits in there for several beats, staring up at the house, and for a second I’m racked with nervous energy.
Afraid that he’ll come back, and decide my friendship is no longer good enough.
My shaky hand grips the doorknob, tightening around the black metal until my fingers ache, but then he’s turning the engine on and driving away.
Sagging against the door, I allow myself a chance to revel in the relief. Living on my own has come with its own set of obstacles and learning to curb my fears of being attacked again is high on that list.
A pang shoots through my chest, terror trying to solidify in my soul, but I tamp it down and take the stairs two at a time. Pushing open the door to the master bedroom, I go straight for the en suite and let the porcelain Jacuzzi fill up.
While I wait, I strip out of my clothes, pausing in the full-length mirror beside my dresser. With a makeup remover wipe, I slowly clean my face, touching the jagged lines of pale flesh.
The slivers, a sharp stroke against my cheekbone and a slash at the corner of my mouth, are still rough and tender to the touch, but they’re finally beginning to fade.
My gaze drops, along with my hands, and I slide my fingers over my hip, wincing at the way that gash looks; it’s messy, the tissue raised and sensitive and darker than the marks on my face.
It’s ugly, and I can only imagine the memory attached is even worse, so for a moment, I’m grateful that those images are just out of reach.
Grabbing my purple silk robe from where it hangs on the mirror, I wrap it around myself, dousing my shame before it can finish crawling up my neck.
Holding the tie against my waist, I walk to the nightstand beside my bed and pull open the drawer, biting my bottom lip as I stare down at the contents.
The birthday gift from Fiona stares back at me, still in its box and wrapped in cellophane. Swallowing over the sudden dryness in my throat, I reach in and pull it out, opening it quickly.
My cheeks heat, embarrassment pressing down on my chest, as if there’s a chance someone might see me use it. My thumb finds the button on the wand, and it roars to life, vibrating violently where it rests against my thigh.
At the same time, my gaze lifts, catching movement through the window; immediately, I’m drawn to the second story in the cabin across the lake, my entire body hollowing out.
Lungs on fire, I can’t stop my breathing from growing sporadic or the anxiety from flooding my chest. Scanning every window in the house, though, I come up short again with nothing but the light rustling of the aspen trees surrounding us to focus on.
You’re being ridiculous, Riley. There’s no one out there. No one is coming for you.
No one knows you’re here.
For some reason, I can’t shake the eerie feeling, or stop it from mixing with something else—disappointment.
Still, if it were someone coming to kill me, they’d likely have already done it.
If it were someone representing Aiden James, I don’t know why they’d be across the lake and not hauling me in for questioning.
My heart thumps sadly at the thought of how badly I fucked up there. How I wish I’d never gone on that class trip or met him in the first place.
How I wish I’d let him do more to me that night in the tattoo shop.