by B. B. Hamel
“What are they?” I ask.
“You can’t come in here unless I invite you,” he says, knocking on his door.
“Easy enough,” I say. “What’s the other rule?”
“You can’t tell anyone where you are.”
I raise an eyebrow. “That’s creepy.”
“I know. But it’s more for my privacy than anything else. You can get online, and I have a satellite phone downstairs if you need to make a call, so you won’t be cut off from the world. But if you do use any of that stuff to contact someone, you can’t tell them where I live. Okay?”
“Okay,” I agree. “That’s reasonable. Just don’t try to murder me.”
Ethan grins. “I’ll see what I can do.”
I bite my lip as he brushes past me. I spot Jones slip into the movie room, and as we walk past again, I duck my head in there. Jones is curled up on an enormous, fluffy bed in front of the big screen, and I get the feeling that the movie room is really Jones’s room.
I follow Ethan back downstairs. “This house is gorgeous,” I say to him, and I mean it. The place is a mix of rustic and modern in very strange and interesting ways. Because it’s built to look like a cliff face from the outside, the inside has some odd special things, like little nooks and crannies. Still, the house is impeccably decorated, with modern, geometric art hung on the walls.
There’s a lot of exposed wood, old looking and probably real. The fixtures are mostly made from what I think is brass, but I haven’t really inspected them closely. The place clearly has electricity, running hot and cold water, and he doesn’t seem worried about losing any of that with the coming storm.
We head back downstairs and he makes himself a drink. He puts on some music, some jazz that I don’t really recognize, before he offers me some wine.
“No, thanks,” I say, and he just shrugs.
“What do you think?” he asks. “Not many people have seen this place.”
“It’s beautiful,” I say honestly. “Really, you should have more people over.”
“Yeah, maybe,” he says, laughing.
“What’s it called?”
He cocks his head at me. “What do you mean?”
“Well, all the best houses have a name. What’s this place called?”
“I’m not sure,” he says, smiling a bit as he walks over to the fireplace. He feeds another log to the blaze and sits down in front of it. “I guess I haven’t thought about it.”
“Come on,” I say, sitting on the couch across from him. “I’d call it your Fortress of Solitude.”
He laughs a little. “No, I think Superman can keep that name.” He leans back and thinks for a second. “I’d call this place Remmel Prison.”
He says it with a grin, but it surprises me. There’s a bitterness to his tone, and the idea that this place is a prison surprises me. Most people don’t voluntarily build their own prison and live there on their own.
Then again, most people don’t get rich and then disappear from public life completely like he did.
I can’t help but think about the explosion in his factory again. It’s becoming so clear that this place is like a punishment for him, but I don’t really understand why. From the digging I did, I found out that the explosion was ruled an accident, and nobody seems to blame him for it at all.
I glance out the windows. The sun’s nearly set completely, and the snow’s starting to fall. Thick and heavy, with wind blowing through the trees. It came on us pretty suddenly.
“I guess that’s the storm,” he says with a sigh.
“Guess so.”
“Did Shelly say how much we’re looking at?”
I shake my head. “Just that I might get stuck here.”
“Ever been to prison before?”
I laugh softly. “This is hardly a prison, Ethan. I mean, you have Wi-Fi.”
“Good point.” He stands up and stretches. “You hungry?”
I shrug a little. I didn’t expect to stay for dinner, and I know that if I want to get out of here, now’s my chance. The storm hasn’t gotten too bad yet, and I’m sure he’d still drive me back into town right now. Maybe he’d get stuck there too, but that wouldn’t be so bad. He’d be forced to see people for a change.
Instead, I just watch him go into the kitchen and start making something to eat. He uses the fresh stuff that Shelly brought mostly, fixing up two nice salads with cooked, sliced chicken breast on top. Eventually I wander over to the counter and sit down, watching as he works.
Every minute I wait, I’m more and more likely going to end up trapped in this house. It’s his prison, and I’m afraid of finding out why. I don’t know why a person goes to such lengths to keep themselves away from society, and yet he doesn’t seem totally out of touch with it. He’s living a modern life, just… away from people. He can call them, write emails, or even head into town whenever he wants to. He’s not exactly completely divorced from the world. He still has his toe dipped in, and he’s ready to go back whenever he wants.
Which makes him so much stranger. He’s a man that wants to keep the world away, and yet he’s still very much connected to it. There’s a contradiction there, a complexity that I don’t fully understand.
But I’m not here to understand him. As he places the food in front of me and sits down to eat, I think that maybe this might be a good time to tell him the truth. Maybe now I can tell him about the baby and have him drive me back into town before it gets any worse out there, and I’m stuck with this complicated, gorgeous guy.
Instead, we just have dinner together. I tell him about my job and he asks lots of questions about what it’s like to work for Murray. He’s a good listener and soon I forget all about my little baby problem, and I’m just enjoying having a conversation with him. He’s suddenly the guy that I slept with that night, and not a complicated billionaire recluse.
The night slowly wears on, and I can see the snow falling outside. It’s coming down thick and heavy, surprisingly heavy. The wind whips through the trees nearby, whistling in the branches. Jones comes down and Ethan lets him outside.
“Is that a good idea?” I ask. “It’s really coming down out there.”
“He’ll be fine,” Ethan says. “That’s a mountain dog.”
“Just like you’re a mountain man.”
He grins at me as we head back into the living room. The fire’s dying down and I realize that it’s actually getting late. We’ve been talking for almost three hours now, although we haven’t really said anything important. It’s still been comfortable, surprisingly comfortable.
“We should get some sleep,” he says. “We have an early morning tomorrow?”
“Do we?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.
He grins. “Gotta get some work done.”
I don’t know what that means, and I don’t really want to know. “I don’t have any of my clothes with me,” I say.
“It’s okay. I’ll lend you some stuff.”
“I’m sorry about this. I really didn’t mean to get caught here.”
He shrugs. “We knew it was possible. We’ll see what it’s like out there tomorrow morning. If it’s not too bad, I’ll drive you back into town.”
I nod a little, feeling better. He heads over toward the fireplace and pokes at the dying fire, letting the ash and embers drop to the fireplace floor. I look out the window and for a second, I think I spot Jones darting off into the trees.
I turn back, and Ethan’s watching me. I can’t read the expression on his face, but it’s intense. I feel a chill run down my spine and I can’t help but think about that night we spent together, and the baby that’s growing inside of me.
“I’m heading up,” he says. “I’ll drop some clothes off in your room. Do me a favor and let Jones in soon.”
“I think I saw him running that way,” I say, pointing down into the valley.
Ethan shrugs. “Just shout his name and wait. He’ll come back.” Without another word, he disappears up the staircase.
I’m left standing in his living room, staring out the window, wondering what the hell I’ve gotten myself into. I feel like a crazy person, like I’ve stalked him down into his fortress and forced my way in. I never expected to stay overnight, let alone worry that I might be stuck here for a little bit. And of course, I don’t have my clothes.
But at least I have my phone. I find my jacket and pull it out of the pocket, but of course I have no signal. He mentioned a satellite phone, but I don’t know where it is.
I sigh again, lingering in the kitchen. I know I should get some sleep, but I don’t want to go up into that unfamiliar room with him so close to me. I’d rather curl up at the end of his bed… but I don’t even know what his bed looks like.
I groan a little bit. I’m such an idiot. I slip on my coat and head outside to let the dog in, which is something I can do at least. In the morning, apparently I have to work.
6
Ethan
It’s still snowing when I wake up. It’s a little after six in the morning and still a little dark out, although the sun should be rising pretty soon. I go through my normal morning routine, trying not to think about the person sleeping just one floor away from me.
I haven’t had another human in this house in so long. It’s strange, actually, and I don’t know how to act. Every part of me wants to go into her room right now and explore her body, taste her skin, make her happy she decided to stay. Instead, I brush my teeth and shower before heading downstairs to feed Jones.
I frown out the windows as the sun slowly rises. I make coffee and cook some breakfast for both of us, eggs and bacon, since the bacon at least won’t last if we really are stuck here. The snow looks pretty deep out there, and although it slowed down, it’s still coming. I doubt we’ll be leaving the house today, and if the snow doesn’t stop soon, we may not be leaving for a few days.
Doesn’t matter. I knew this could happen. Honestly, I wanted it to happen. For as much as I pretend like I want to be here, want to be punishing myself, I know I’m not the kind of person to stay locked up forever.
I thought I could, right up until I had that night with Mia. Anyone else, and I could have come back to my little prison and kept living my days, but Mia stuck with me. And now here she is, like it’s meant to be.
I don’t believe her when she says that she’s here just to get a story from me. There’s no way she’d travel this far, I decided. Even if Murray is pressing her to get a real interview, she still wouldn’t come out to the middle of nowhere just to get it. She wouldn’t risk getting snowed in with me, either.
Unless she wants to be close to me. I know she wants me, that much is obvious, but the question is how badly. I think she wants me badly… but there has to be more to it.
I don’t know what it is. I won’t push, not until she’s ready to talk. I know how hard some things can be. Saying them out loud takes guts, and if she has something like that to say, I won’t force it.
She wakes up about an hour after I do. She comes downstairs wearing a pair of my sweatpants and an old t-shirt, both of them slightly too big for her and way too small for me. Her hair’s piled in a bun on her head. I made sure she had a toothbrush, toothpaste, towels, shampoo, all that good stuff for her bathroom. Fortunately I stocked up on extras for guests a long time ago, back when I thought I still might have guests.
“Morning,” she says to me.
“Morning. Coffee?”
“Please.”
I pour her some and hand the mug over. She sips it as she walks over and looks out the window.
“Wow,” she says softly.
“I know.”
She stares quietly out the window, down at the snow-covered valley. I’m a little jaded toward that view, but even I have to admit that it’s beautiful. The lake is probably frozen right now, and it’s hard to spot since it’s covered in snow. I know it by the ring of trees right around its little crater.
“It’s really amazing,” she says finally. “I can see why you stay here.”
I laugh softly. “Honestly, I don’t notice it most of the time.”
She cocks her head. “Really?”
“Really. It’s like owning a beautiful piece of art. You look at it at first, but slowly it just becomes a part of your world… and it’s hard to really see again.”
She bites her lip. “I think I know what you mean.”
“It’s hard to really see things, once you’re blinded to them.”
We stand side by side for a second. I have the urge to kiss her, but I don’t want to push and makes things worse, considering she’s trapped here. I’ll get what I want, and give her what she needs, soon enough.
“Come on,” I say, turning away from the window. “We have work to do.”
“Oh, do we?”
I nod as I head into the laundry room. I grab my boots and my coat, plus a basket with extra gloves and scarves. I bring everything out and put it down on the kitchen counter.
I get dressed and she just watches me.
“Come on,” I say. “Grab your coat.”
“We’re going out there?” she asks, incredulous.
“We absolutely are.”
“How? Why?”
“I told you. We’re putting you to work.”
“No way,” she says. “I’m a guest.”
“Maybe, but you still have to earn your keep around here. This is the mountain, Mia. You can’t be dead weight.”
She bites her lip. “I think I’d rather hang out with Jones.”
“He’s coming with me. Right, boy?”
Jones cocks his head at me, already halfway toward the garage door.
Eventually Mia sighs and gets her coat. She bundles up, pulling her boots back on, finding a pair of mittens and a scarf. Once she’s ready, we head outside. Jones takes off up to the tree line as soon as the garage door opens.
I find a pair of snow shovels and I hand her one. “Your job is to clear off the driveway while I check the generators.”
“You get the easy job, of course,” she says.
“Do you know how to spot a problem?” I ask.
“Nope,” she says, sighing and taking the shovel.
I grin at her as she heads out and gets to work. Honestly, I expected more pushback from her, but she’s putting her head down and shoveling despite the wind and the snow.
I head around toward the back of the house. The generators are in a little outhouse, protected from the weather, but I still have to check them. The house is connected to the main power grid by a line that’s buried underground, and was a fucking fortune to get run out here. That line usually isn’t the problem, though. It’s all the lines down near town that aren’t buried. Every storm, something goes wrong and one of those lines drops, and that means I have to have generators to make sure the power stays on.
Fortunately, the generators are fine, and they’re not running, which means the power’s fine in town so far. I smile to myself, happy for that, since it means Shelly still has power, too. If the generators kick on, I’ll have to go check on her.
I head back to the front. Mia’s made a dent in the shoveling, and I join her.
“This is good for the back,” I say. “Really works those muscles.”
“I’m more of a hot chocolate and a nice book kind of girl,” she says.
“I bet you are. But now you’re a mountain girl, which means you gotta toughen up.”
She laughs, leaning against her shovel. “I don’t know about that. I don’t feel very tough.”
“Sure you do. Look at those guns.” I walk over and squeeze her bicep, making her laugh. “You’re practically ripped.”
“Get out of here,” she says, pushing me playfully. “I shoveled like ten feet and I’m already winded.”
“Shovel ten more. It just gets easier.”
She shakes her head. “I don’t think that’s how it works.”
“Sure it does.” I drop my shovel and start pushing the snow. There’s maybe
eight inches on the ground already, which is a lot for a single night’s snow.
“Are we going to shovel the whole driveway?” she asks, clearly worried.
I shake my head, laughing at her. “That’d take days,” I say. “We just need to make some room.”
“For what?” she asks.
“You’ll see.” I grin at her and get back to work.
Eventually she sighs and starts shoveling too. It doesn’t take long for us to clear out a good-sized portion of the front walk and driveway, and eventually I tell her that’s enough. We carry our shovels back into the garage, but before she can head inside, I stop her.
“Wait, do you think work duty is over?” I ask.
“Oh god, no,” she says, her face falling. “I just want to sit on that nice couch in front of the fire.”
“Well, I’m glad you mentioned the fire.” I can’t help but grin huge at her. “We’ve got one more job.”
She groans, but she follows me around the side of the house. There’s a large stump and a low shelter next to it full of dry firewood. I grab a log and the axe that’s lying on top of the pile, and place it on top of a nearby stump. Mia watches as I split the log easily, tossing the pieces aside.
I hold the axe out for her. “Your turn.”
“No way,” she says, shaking her head.
“Come on. You’re in the mountains. What’s more mountainous than splitting firewood?”
She groans again. “‘Mountainous’? Is that even a thing?”
“It is now,” I say, laughing. I put a log down for her and hold out the axe again. “Come on. You can do it.”
I don’t expect her to, but she takes the axe. I really thought she’d turn me down again, and I was ready to let it go. Instead, she surprises me, and steps up to the log.
She swings the axe down clumsily, and only clips the log. It falls off the stump and doesn’t split at all.
I can’t help but laugh. “Nice try,” I say.
“Asshole,” she grumbles.
I grab the log and put it up again. “Here, let me help.”