Chapter 5
Shane
Over the next three days, we settled into a routine that felt dangerously like playing house.
I brought enough gear from the cabin so the room we stayed in felt almost like home. And I got to fuck her all night long as well.
"The forecast says twelve inches tonight," Walt announced on Thursday morning, staring outside. "Perfect for the weekend crowd. We should prep the rental equipment."
"I'll check the ski room," Raven said without missing a beat. "Make sure everything's tuned properly."
Walt beamed at her. "Such dedication. Shane, this one's a keeper."
My hands stilled on the insulin vial. The casual words hit deeper than they should have, carrying implications Walt hadn’t meant. But when I looked up, Raven was watching me, gauging my reaction.
She was a keeper. The thought had been growing stronger every day—every time she anticipated Walt's needs before I did, every time she gasped my name in the dark.
"Just temporary help," I said, but the words felt like a lie even as I spoke them.
"Of course, of course." Walt patted my shoulder. "But temporary has a way of becoming permanent when it's meant to be."
After coming back to the lodge, we tried to make Walt’s room and where he wandered as safe as we could.
Raven filmed a few segments during these hours, and helped Walt decorate for Halloween.
He'd recount the lodge's glory days with such vivid detail that even I started to picture it—families laughing around the fireplace, couples dancing to live music, children building snowmen outside the dining room windows.
"The Steiners came every Christmas for fifteen years," he told us, buffing a candlestick that would never shine again. "Little Timothy practically grew up here, took his first ski lesson when he was four. Then he started bringing his own children. Such a good family."
Raven recorded everything, but not for her channel. She was preserving Walt's memories, capturing his stories with the same eagerness she showed with her content.
"Why are you recording him?" I asked night after Walt went to bed.
"Because it matters." She looked up from her laptop, where she was organizing the audio files. "Even if these memories aren’t all real, even if his timeline is scrambled—these are his truths. His life. Someone should remember them."
"You're good with him. Better than I could have hoped."
"He reminds me of Gran." Her expression softened. "But he's also just... Walt. Sweet and kind and doing his best with a mind that won't cooperate anymore."
I pulled her into my arms, needing to touch her, to hold her. She fit against me perfectly, her head tucked under my chin, her soft curves pressed against my harder angles.
"Thank you," I said. "For everything you're doing. For him. For us."
"Us." She said the word like she was testing it out. "Is that what we are?"
"Yeah." My arms tightened around her. "That's what we are."
She tilted her head back to look at me, and the vulnerability in her eyes made my chest ache. "My week’s up soon.”
"You can stay as long as you like." I didn’t want to think about her leaving. I wasn’t sure I could let her go.
"We should talk about the future."
"Not now." I kissed her, slow and deep, pouring everything I couldn't say into the touch. When I pulled back, we were both breathing hard. "Right now, I just want to enjoy having you here. Having you be mine."
"I am yours," she whispered.
"Damn right you are."
THAT EVENING, RAVEN sat cross-legged on the mattress, editing footage on her laptop.
She was wearing one of my t-shirts, the fabric swallowing her small frame, the hem riding up to expose her bare thighs.
Her hair was piled on top of her head in a messy knot, purple streaks catching the lamplight.
She looked rumpled and soft and absolutely mine.
"Come here," I said from the doorway.
She looked up, her eyes going dark when she saw the way I was looking at her. "I'm working."
"I don't care. Come. Here."
The command in my voice made her shiver. She closed the laptop and set it aside, then crawled across the bed toward me. The sight of her on her hands and knees, in my shirt, moving toward me with those dark eyes full of want—it made my cock hard instantly.
When she reached the edge of the bed, she sat back on her heels, looking up at me. The height difference was even more pronounced with her kneeling on the mattress while I stood.
"What do you want?" she asked, but her gaze had already dropped to the obvious bulge in my jeans.
"You know what I want."
Her hands came up to my belt, working it open with steady fingers. "Tell me anyway."
"Your mouth." My voice came out strained. "I want that smart mouth of yours on me."
She freed me from my jeans and boxers, her small hand wrapping around my length. "Like this?"
"Raven." Her name was a warning.
She leaned forward, maintaining eye contact as her tongue darted out to taste the bead of moisture at my tip. The sight nearly brought me to my knees.
"You're so big," she murmured, stroking me slowly. "I don't know if I can take all of you."
"You don't have to—"
"I want to." She licked from base to tip, making me groan. "I want to make you lose control. Want to feel you come undone because of me."
She took me into her mouth, just the head at first, her tongue swirling in a way that made my hands fly to her hair. The messy bun came undone, purple-streaked black hair spilling through my fingers.
"That's it," I encouraged as she took me deeper. "You're doing so good."
She hummed around me, the vibration making my hips jerk forward involuntarily. She pulled back, gasping.
"Sorry, I—"
"Do it again," she said, then took me back into her mouth.
This time when she hummed, I let myself thrust gently, carefully, watching her face for any sign of discomfort. But her eyes were closed in concentration, her hands gripping my thighs.
She couldn't take all of me—I was too big and she was still learning what she could handle—but what she could take was perfect. Her hand worked what her mouth couldn't reach, and the combined sensation was driving me insane.
"Raven," I warned, feeling the tension building. "I'm close. You don't have to—"
She pulled back just enough to speak. "I want to taste you. Want all of you."
Those words destroyed the last of my control. She took me back into her mouth, sucking hard, and I came with a groan. She swallowed everything, until I had to gently pull her away, too sensitive to take anymore.
“Such a good girl,” I crooned. “And now—"
A crash from downstairs made us both freeze.
Then Walt's voice, panicked and confused: "Shane! There's smoke! The fire! It's happening again!"
"Stay here."
"Like hell," she said, getting off the bed and slipping on her sneakers.
We found Walt in the main lobby, pacing frantically, his hands shaking. He was pointing at a vent where dust was drifting out. It was just harmless building debris disturbed by wind, but in his fractured mind, it was smoke from the fire that had haunted him for thirty years.
"The guests," he was saying, his voice breaking. "We have to evacuate the guests. Rebecca—we have to find Rebecca before it's too late."
"Walt." I moved toward him slowly, hands raised. "There's no fire. No guests. You're safe."
"No!" He backed away from me, his eyes wild. "I can smell it. The smoke. The burning. Just like that night. We have to—" He stopped suddenly, his gaze landing on Raven. "You. You look like her. Like Rebecca."
Raven moved closer, her voice gentle. "I'm Raven, Mr. Harrison. Remember? I work here with you."
"So did Rebecca," Walt said, tears streaming down his weathered cheeks. "She overheard Carlson on the phone with someone about burning the lodge for the insurance money. She came to me, terrified. Asked what we should do."
"What did you tell her?" I asked gently.
"I told her she must have misunderstood.
That Mr. Carlson would never do that. He'd built this place, loved it.
" Walt's voice broke. "I was wrong. She told Jimmy.
He worked maintenance with me. And they both stayed late that night to find proof.
The fire started in the east wing where the office records were kept. They never made it out."
"That wasn't your fault," I said.
"It was!" Walt shouted. " I didn't believe her. Told her she was being paranoid. If I'd listened, if I'd gone to the police with her..." He collapsed into a chair, sobbing.
Raven knelt beside him. "Mr. Harrison, you couldn't have known."
"The official report said two unidentified people died," Walt continued. "But it was Rebecca and Jimmy. Carlson made sure their names never appeared in any reports. Made them disappear even in death. I stayed here. Couldn't leave them alone in this place."
Raven's hand found Walt's, her touch gentle. "We're here with you. You're not alone."
"They weren't supposed to be there," Walt whispered, staring at nothing. "No one was. We were completely empty. But they came back to find evidence..." His breathing hitched, becoming shallow and rapid.
I knelt beside him, fingers on his pulse. Racing—140 beats per minute. "Walt, I need you to breathe with me. In through your nose, out through your mouth."
"I can't—the smoke—"
"There's no smoke," Raven said firmly but kindly. She took his other hand, placing it on her chest. "Feel me breathing? Match my rhythm."
Walt's eyes focused on her, his breath stuttering as he tried to follow her lead. I grabbed my medical bag from where I'd left it earlier, and took out the blood pressure cuff.
"Just checking your vitals," I said softly, wrapping the cuff around his thin arm. "Raven, keep him focused on you."
"Mr. Harrison," she said, "tell me about Rebecca. What was she like?"
"Sweet girl,” he whispered. "Twenty-three. Wanted to be a teacher. She was saving money working here..." His blood pressure read 180/95. Dangerously high.