by Maggie Ryan
Once at the top, she moved across a small open area where the only thing that kept a person from plummeting to the floor below was a railing. She didn’t have to shine her light around to know that the open area served as an office, his desk dominating the space, shelves containing books and board games behind it. A braided rug in rich jewel tones padded the floor, a thick cushion and throw pillows waited in the bay window, ready to provide a seat or even a pallet to curl up and nap.
She continued down the hall, hesitating at the first door she came to. Had he managed to do what she hadn’t? Had he successfully erased her from his life? Closing her eyes, she fought back the tears that welled. Though her fingers hovered above the latch, she couldn’t make her fingers touch it. There was only one room left and her steps took her to the door at the end of the hall. She knew it was one thing to help herself to shelter and quite another to invade his personal space. But she also knew that she didn’t have the courage to open the other door. If she’d found it emptied—changed—she would know and, for tonight, she simply didn’t have the courage to discover the answer.
Opening the bedroom door, she stepped inside. The bed beckoned, offering escape from her thoughts in sleep, but her bladder was screaming for relief so she walked into the adjoining bathroom.
This room was as modern and elegant as the kitchen below. Dropping her duffle, she practically whined, her feet shuffling as she scrambled to get the zipper of her jeans down with her frozen fingers. Shoving pants and panties down, a small shriek escaped as she sat down, her bare ass instantly pebbling with gooseflesh as it met the cold seat.
After using the bathroom, her attempt to wash her hands had her cursing again as nothing but frigid water sputtered from the faucet. Deciding hygiene wasn’t all that vital, she stripped out of the windbreaker. It had become soaking wet from the snow. Grateful the jacket had kept the sweatshirt she wore beneath it dry, she tossed the windbreaker over the towel rod then moved back into the bedroom again. Without electricity, there was no heat and her fire-building skills could be considered dismal at best. Her boots were the only other items she bothered to remove. As she pulled back the quilt and sheets, crawling beneath them, she could practically hear the animals of the forest chortling, snorting, huffing, or conversing in whatever means they would use to mock her. They might be outside, but dammit, they were covered in nice thick, warm fur coats!
It took several minutes and pulling the hood of her sweatshirt over her head before she stopped shivering. The last time Elena had been at the cabin, it had been in the daytime and in late summer. She’d never really considered how much a few months could change everything, and she wasn’t just considering that, instead of sunshine, there was a blizzard outside the window. Turning onto her side and curling tightly into a ball that was reminiscent of the pill bugs under that rock, she pulled the covers up and over her mouth. She’d cover her nose as well but wanted to breathe without worrying about inhaling the carbon dioxide she was creating with every exhale.
“Good grief, first bears and now noxious air? What’s next? Some psycho wearing a field-hockey mask and carrying a butcher knife? Fuck! Stop! Just stop and turn off your brain.”
When that demand didn’t work, she began to take long, deep breaths. Even though it was cold as a witch’s teat… she groaned at the ‘witch’ and switched analogies. Okay, so it was cold enough to hang meat on those giant hooks… another groan and another switch.
“Fine, it’s fucking cold but there are four solid oak walls surrounding you. There is a thick door and a roof. You’ve no reason to believe you are in danger…”
The chuckle that rang out loudly in her head had her flinching. He was right. She wasn’t worried about bears or a serial killer. What refused to leave her in peace was the worry that this was all for naught. It had been a long time… months during which she’d not answered phone calls. Months in which she’d refused to open emails or texts.
Turning on her other side, she sighed deeply, tucking her head a bit lower, allowing the tip of her nose to seek warmth beneath the quilt. Air be damned. She’d rather slip into eternal slumber than continue to quake with the cold. Part of her demanded she get her ass out of a bed where she no longer belonged and just go. If she were smart, she’d face the fact that while she’d finally stopped running and admitted that she had to finish this, that didn’t mean that he hadn’t taken her silence as a sign that it was time to move on.
Still, she didn’t get up. Looking out the window and seeing the snow falling, she whispered, “I know it won’t be easy. I don’t need easy. I just have to know… is it… am I too late?”
No answer came and yet when she closed her eyes, she found sleep.
Chapter Two
Every sense went on alert the moment Liam stepped out of the garage. Though there was no evidence of another vehicle and no tire tracks in the snow, he felt an unseen presence. Leaving everything in the Range Rover, he moved cautiously toward the front of the cabin. Standing at the bottom of the steps, he made a slow circle to scan his surroundings. Despite the fact that he saw nothing and the pristine surface of the snow was undisturbed, he knew that someone had been there. Looking at the door, he shook his head. Whoever it was had either come and gone as no footprints were visible, or the intruder was still inside.
When the knob turned without benefit of a key, he went onto full alert. Perhaps upon finding nothing valuable inside, the perpetrator had left empty-handed and without bothering to lock up behind himself. Still, Liam was a cautious man and wasn’t about to consider the cabin uninhabited until he checked for himself.
Pushing open the door, he stepped inside. Nothing moved and no sound met his ears except for the hum of the refrigerator and a ticking that indicated the hot water tank had begun to heat the moment he’d opened the panel on the garage wall and turned the electricity and water back on.
Once his eyes adjusted fully, the moonlight streaming through the window allowed him to move silently. Liam checked the door in the kitchen, finding it locked. Turning, he paused, the bottle of water on the island drawing his eye. Someone had definitely broken in.
Ducking his head into the small half-bath beneath the stairs, the laundry room and searching the guestroom, he was assured that he was the sole occupant of the lower level. He climbed the stairs, stepping over the fourth one from the bottom as he knew that to tread on it would produce a squeak. He’d been meaning to replace the slightly warped wood but hadn’t gotten around to it.
On the landing, he paused, listening to see if his presence had been detected. Silence surrounded him, and yet he saw a soft glow coming beneath the door at the end of the hall. There had been no power before he’d turned it on a few minutes earlier, so either the intruder had brought his own source of light and left it behind… or he was still here.
Dividing his attention between the two doors, he opened the first to find it uninhabited. Closing the door and his mind to how he had given up hope that it would ever find the occupant for which it had been designed in residence, he moved to the door of his bedroom and eased it open. He immediately found the source of light. A cell phone was on top of the table next to the bed, a soft beam shining up to the ceiling. It was evident that the intruder hadn’t just left a phone and split. Not unless they left without benefit of shoes. A pair of hiking boots was on the floor beside the bed. Two things about what he saw had his brow furrowing and his anxiety ratcheting down several levels. First was the fact that the boots would only fit a very small man, but add in the neon-pink phone case, and he was pretty positive that his little burglar was a female. Moving forward as silently as a mouse, he found his intruder… well, what little of her he could see.
She was turned on her side, curled up beneath covers that concealed her entire body. The sight of green hair gave him pause. While women were now dyeing or putting streaks of every hue in their hair these days, this green wasn’t one he could see them choosing. It was a drab olive color and as he bent cl
oser, he saw that it wasn’t hair at all. It was a hoodie whose cord had been pulled so tightly beneath her chin that the fleece practically covered all of her eyes. Even the tip of her nose was buried beneath the quilt.
Who the hell was she and what was she doing in his bed? Forget that… how had she gotten inside? The cabin wasn’t easy to find. He’d built high on the mountain, the barely there road not encouraging visitors.
“Who are you, little one?”
When a soft whimper sounded, he realized he’d spoken aloud. Before he could straighten, she turned, small fingers appearing to clutch the covers tighter as she rolled over. What he saw had him rocking back on his heels.
No fucking way!
Sure, the smattering of freckles across her cheeks and bridge of a small button nose could belong to another, but the ring on her finger, a ring he’d had designed and commissioned to be made, was one of a kind. He’d slipped it onto her finger—though not one on her right hand where it was presently being worn. Even though he didn’t understand why she was here or why she’d come back, he immediately shifted into the role that had been as automatic as breathing ever since he’d become a man. Moving to the cedar chest at the foot of the bed, he lifted the lid and removed another quilt. Gently so as not to wake her, he shook it open and then laid it across her. She was always chilled, even in the summer. Burning calories as quickly as she consumed them kept her on the thin side and her body barely made a lump under the covers. With the snow and no heat, the poor thing must be freezing. He stood at the end of the bed, looking down on her.
The anger and sense of betrayal had been real. The hurt over losing her had run deep. He’d spent months not knowing where she was, what she was doing, asking himself if she was as wrecked as he was or had she walked away and found whatever she thought she wanted… what would make her happy as he’d been unable to do? They’d not seen each other or spoken in a long time, but it took nothing more than her presence to have every moment they’d ever shared playing like a film in his head. He knew he had the right to rip back the covers, wake her up, and demand answers… yet he didn’t. He didn’t make a point of going unprepared into any situation. And though he’d definitely been blindsided by her actions that day, and was shocked at her appearance now, he was going to make damn sure he was prepared when she woke.
If her being here meant what he found himself hoping, she wouldn’t have to worry about being cold for long. No, if she had returned to the very spot she’d fled, then she hadn’t dropped by just to say hello.
“Sleep well, you’re going to need your strength,” he said softly, a grin appearing when her nose crinkled as it did when she was puzzled about something, and she gave a soft little snore. His blood quickened as memories flooded through his mind.
When she gave a little whimper, he spoke again. “Shh, I’ve got you. I won’t let anything harm you, baby.” He stood a long time, just watching her, waiting until her fingers relaxed their clutch on the covers and her breathing deepened. Shit, he wanted nothing more than to join her in the bed and pull her into his arms. Instead, he bent to kiss her cheek, extinguished the light on her phone, grabbed additional bedding from the chest, and left the room.
Descending the stairs, he headed for the couch. It sure as shit wasn’t as comfortable as the bed in his guestroom, but it would do. He had no intention of not waking if the little minx attempted to sneak out. Sleeping on the couch, he would have absolutely no worries. He was a light sleeper and would come instantly awake the moment a footfall, no matter how light, fell onto the stairs. After placing several logs in the stone fireplace and lighting them, he made up his bed for the night. While the cabin slowly began to warm with the heat of the flames, he went into the kitchen and placed the half-empty bottle of water she’d drunk from back into the fridge. Well, he’d just add robbery to trespassing. With the discovery of his extra key lying on the counter, he removed breaking and entering from her list of crimes.
He understood how she had found the cabin and how she’d found the key as she’d been here before. Very few people knew about the cabin but there was the very rare occasion when he’d allow others to use his place. A very few, very select group of people had qualified to have earned the privilege. He couldn’t imagine any of his friends taking advantage of him and yet the lack of a vehicle and her very presence was enough evidence that someone had assisted her without informing him of their plan to do so. The question was who? Trust was an extremely important part of his life and theirs. Breaking it, in any way, would be very hard to forgive. Who did he know who might be willing to risk his friendship?
Too restless to sleep or even read, he decided to bring in the provisions he’d brought. It took him two trips to grab all the grocery bags. He was planning on staying a week or so and had come prepared. He turned on the lights, rotating the switch to make them dim and yet providing enough illumination to chase away the shadows. He put the groceries away, stocking the shelves of the refrigerator and filling the baskets on the counter by the stove. He might be in the woods, but damn, he was planning on eating well. A few items went in the cabinets and a few more into the freezer before he returned outside. The snowfall was getting heavier, his boot prints from his first trip to the car already almost completely obliterated. By morning it would be a least a foot or two deep with some drifts even deeper.
He grabbed his backpack and his duffle, then closed the garage door. He could smell the aroma of wood smoke drifting on the chilled air and it made him smile. The moment he left the city, every mile of highway navigated, every switchback driven brought him peace. Though he’d been on alert upon his arrival, and he’d been shocked at the discovery of her in his bed, he disregarded the fact that his head was telling him to ignore his heart. If there was even the barest glimmer of hope that her presence, her return, meant what he prayed it did, he’d do whatever it took to let her know she’d made the right choice.
Back inside, he locked the door and grabbing the bottle from the freezer, poured a shot of vodka, downing it in one swallow. Pouring another, he settled at the island and pulled his cell phone from his pocket. He waited until it connected with the hotspot he’d engaged to boost reception and then dialed, taking a sip from his glass as he waited.
“Hey, sorry to call so late but do you have a minute?” he asked when the phone was answered.
“For you, sure. What’s up? Aren’t you supposed to be enjoying self-imposed isolation by now?”
“Depends on the definition of isolation,” Liam said, taking another sip of vodka. “Care to guess who I discovered in the cabin… in my bed?”
On the other end of the phone, Sean Rodrick chuckled. “Goldilocks?”
“Ha-ha,” Liam said, rolling his eyes, but knowing he’d walked right into that one. It hadn’t taken long running down his list of close friends before settling on one. A certain feisty woman with golden curls who could trust that he’d forgive her. “No, but speaking of Goldilocks, where’s Kathryn?”
“Kathryn, not Katie, I see? Funny you should ask. She’s actually upstairs right now, nose to the wall, contemplating the consequences of her recent choices.”
Liam knew that could mean one of a dozen things but made a guess. “Those choices wouldn’t have anything to do with her bestie Elena, would they?”
The silence lasted for only a moment, but spoke volumes. Liam could practically hear the gears turning in Sean’s head and see that head shaking back and forth. “Is that who’s in your bed? Elena?”
“Yes, and I need to see what Katie knows about it. Has she said anything to you?”
“No, but that would sure go a long way toward explaining why Katie disappeared for hours and why she ran out of gas. Hold on…”
A few minutes later, Sean said, “Okay, I’ve put the phone on speaker. Here’s Katie.”
The next sound was a timid, “Um, hi, Liam.”
“Hello, Katie.” Liam pictured her squirming under Sean’s gaze. Was his friend even
now choosing an implement or perhaps rolling up his shirt sleeves? He could almost feel sympathy for the blonde, but still, like Sean, he wasn’t one to let naughtiness slide. “Tell me,” he said, not bothering to elaborate.
“Remember, I love you…”
Her pause did not draw words of reassurance from him. She knew he loved her as well, but he hadn’t called to have an intimate tête-à-tête.
After a sigh, she spoke again. “I know it might not look like I was trying to help, but I was. I’ve watched you change, Liam and, well, Elena hasn’t been the same either. It’s time for this shit to stop… ow!” The speaker allowed the smack that preceded her exclamation to be audible and Liam could easily picture Sean’s hand connecting with his wife’s ass. His friend wasn’t one to let any misbehavior go without a consequence. He wasn’t surprised to hear Sean speaking next in a stern tone.
“Watch the language, young lady.”
“Yes, sir,” Katie said softly and then continued. “I couldn’t bear to see two people I love in so much pain. And, at the risk of adding a few extra strokes to what I’m sure is some huge count, yes, the moment that Elena finally asked for my help, I gave it and would do so again.”
Liam could respect that level of loyalty to a friend, but still. “So instead of calling me, you just drove her up to the cabin?”
“No, I mean, well, sort of.”
“Kathryn Denise…”
“I’m explaining,” Katie said quickly, evidently hearing her full name spoken alerting her to the fact that vague answers weren’t going to be accepted. “Fine. Elena is my best friend and we talk. I’m not saying that I know everything that happened between the two of you, but I know enough. I figured it was a sign. I mean, really. What are the chances she’d asked for help the same week you were going to be up there? You haven’t gone to the cabin in a long time. And,” she said, her words coming faster and with more confidence, “what better place to work it out? Sort of returning to the scene of the crime. Um… anyway, so yes, when she asked, I gave her a ride.”