Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 106090 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 530(@200wpm)___ 424(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106090 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 530(@200wpm)___ 424(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
We layer everything we can find. Sweaters under sweaters, socks doubled on our feet, scarves wrapped over our faces until only our eyes show. Liam finds a pair of work gloves in the closet, stiff with cold but better than nothing. Shoved in the back of the same closet, three pairs of snow boots in varying sizes. Because of course Marlena thought of boots. She thought of everything else. The fit isn’t great—Hailey’s swimming in hers and Liam’s are a half size too tight—but they beat barefoot in a blizzard. We’ve been padding around this cabin in borrowed socks for four days, and I’d almost forgotten what real shoes felt like.
“I’m grabbing the axe first,” I tell them. “Wait here.”
I wade through the snow to the woodshed, thigh-deep with every step, and grab the axe from where it leans against the chopping block. By the time I make it back to the porch, I’m already breathing hard.
“Just in case,” I say when Hailey raises an eyebrow.
The first step off the porch together sinks us all thigh-deep. The snow is loose and powdery, the kind that looks soft until you try to walk through it. Each step is a battle—lift your knee to your chest, plant, sink, repeat. Within minutes my legs are burning and sweat is trickling down my spine despite the cold.
Hailey struggles beside me, her smaller frame working twice as hard. Liam brings up the rear, his breath rasping through his scarf.
We circle the cabin. The slope of the mountain becomes clear almost immediately—we’re perched on the side of it, tucked into a small clearing surrounded by dense forest. The trees crowd in close, branches heavy with snow. No roads. No power lines. Nothing but wilderness as far as I can see in any direction.
“There.” I point to a set of tracks cutting through the snow near the tree line. Snowmobile tracks. Already half-filled from the storm, but still visible.
“That’s how they brought us in.” Liam crouches, studying them. His face is red from the cold. “But look—already covered. Another few hours and they’ll be gone completely. We’d never find our way following these.”
He’s right. The tracks wind into the forest and disappear into shadow. No markers. No breadcrumbs. Just an endless maze of white and dark.
We push farther, mapping what we can. A small clearing behind the cabin. The woodshed, stocked with split logs. Beyond that, nothing. Just the mountain sloping down into more forest, more snow, more of the same in every direction.
The isolation is complete.
“Fifteen minutes.” My teeth are chattering. The cold has worked its way through every layer, settled into my bones. Hailey’s shaking beside me, her cheeks raw. “Inside. Now.”
Nobody argues.
We stumble back through our own trail, following the broken path we’ve already cut. By the time we reach the porch, my fingers are clumsy clubs at the end of my arms and I can barely feel my feet.
The cabin’s warmth hits us like a wall. For a moment we just stand there in the entryway, dripping, shivering, too cold to do anything but breathe.
“Fire,” Liam says through chattering teeth.
I move on autopilot, grabbing logs from the pile by the hearth, adding them to the embers. My hands shake as I work. Ice crystals melt in my hair, sending cold water trickling down my neck.
Behind me, I hear them peeling off wet layers. Soaked sweaters hitting the floor. Waterlogged socks.
“My jeans are frozen stiff.” Hailey’s voice is muffled. “Actually frozen.”
“Body heat,” Liam says. “Come here.”
I get the fire built up, watch it catch, wait until the flames are steady. Then I turn around.
They’re huddled together near the bed, blankets pulled around their shoulders, Hailey pressed against Liam’s chest for warmth. Her eyes are closed. His chin rests on top of her head.
Something twists in my chest. Not jealousy—or not only jealousy. Something older than that. The recognition that there’s history between them I’m not part of. Conversations they haven’t had. Things they need to say to each other that have nothing to do with me.
I pull off my own wet clothes, exchange them for dry ones from the pile we’ve been rotating through. Jeans. A flannel shirt. My boots are soaked through but they’re the only shoes I’ve got.
“I’m going to split some more wood.” I say it to the room, not looking at either of them. “We’re going to need it.”
Hailey lifts her head. “Knox—”
“I’ll be right outside. Twenty feet from the door.” I pull on as many dry layers as I can find. “You two should warm up. Talk.”
The look that passes between them tells me I’ve read the situation right. There are things unsettled between them. Five years of silence that needs to be broken. Old wounds that need to be either reopened or finally closed.
I’m not the one who can help with that.