Chapter 13
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
RAINE
W hen Everett called his parents’ home a cabin, I assumed he meant the term figuratively. And maybe he did, but one thing’s for sure. Wherever Everett’s taking me, he wasn’t kidding about the thirty-minute drive or the fact it’s far from civilization. We already stopped at the grocery store, and now the back of Everett’s truck is packed with food, my duffle bag, and Everett’s suitcase. Icy water clings to the pine trees lining the winding road as we drive up the mountain. It’s colder up here than in the valley, but the pavement is still clear.
“You know, I’m pretty sure my car can make it up here,” I murmur.
“Pretty sure you’ve never been in a snowstorm up here,” he counters.
“I’ve been in a snowstorm.”
“Up here ,” he repeats, emphasizing the word as he pulls off the main road and onto a muddied dirt one.
“And what makes snowstorms up here so special?”
“When I was a kid, Fin and I would play outside all the time. When a storm hit, the snow would come down so fast I couldn’t even see my hand in front of me. So, yeah. Storms up here are something else.”
I peek over at him, surprised. By the softness in his voice. The glimpse into his childhood. The lack of gruffness I’ve grown accustomed to.
“You came up here a lot when you were kids?” I ask.
“We lived up here.”
“In the woods?”
“My parents like the quiet.”
My mouth twitches. “I’m sorry. Have they met your little sister?”
He laughs dryly. “Yeah, she’s somethin’ else, but I think my parents blame my half-sisters for it.”
“Half-sisters?” I shouldn’t pry, but I can’t help it. This is the most we’ve spoken…ever, and even if I have a feeling he’s only opening up to distract me from my shitty day, I want to take advantage. Besides, I could use the distraction. A moment out of the spotlight for once.
“I have two half-sisters from my dad’s previous marriage. Hazel and Miley,” Everett explains. “They’re both almost twenty years older than me and Fin, so when Fin was born, they basically treated her like their own personal dress-up doll.”
“Not you?”
A faint smile graces his lips. “There’s a photo or two of my sister dressed up when she was a baby that I’m convinced is really me, but no one will fess up to it.”
My nose crinkles as I hide my laugh behind my hand. “You’re joking.”
“Definitely not joking.”
I shouldn’t find this as hilarious as I do. Especially after the week I’ve had. But the image of the sexy, alpha hockey player next to me in girl’s clothes is pretty much the funniest thing I’ve ever heard. It takes everything inside of me to keep from asking for a copy of the evidence.
As if he can sense my amusement, he gives me the side-eye. “Glad someone finds my childhood torture entertaining.”
I drop my hand to my lap and give in, showcasing my giant grin as I imagine a baby Everett in pink ruffles and bows. “At least you don’t remember the trauma, right? It’s gotta count for something.”
“Not sure repressing memories is any healthier, Raine,” he jokes.
“Good point.” He’s right. It isn’t. I had a good childhood. A great childhood, actually. But even then, I know what it’s like to want to forget certain events. I drag my tongue against my swollen lip and turn back to the passenger window.
“Not too much farther,” he adds.
“You know, you’re lucky I trust you,” I point out.
“You trust me?”
“I have to, don’t I?” I glance at him again. “I’m pretty sure you could kill me up here, and no one would know.”
“Quite a morbid thought,” he muses.
“Doesn’t make it less true. It is pretty, though.”
I lean a little closer to the windshield, taking in the gorgeous forest surrounding us as he drives around the bend. And leaves my jaw practically hanging off its hinges.
It’s beautiful. Absolutely beautiful and so picturesque I can almost believe I’ve died and gone to heaven.
“This is your childhood home?” I ask, refusing to look at Ev, let alone blink in case I miss a single detail of the landscape. The leaves have all fallen from the trees, but the ground is wet, and the massive log cabin tucked between two hills and a valley for a backyard looks like it was placed here by God himself. I bet it’s beautiful in winter. Covered in a blanket of snow. And summer? I can only imagine how lush and green the foliage must get in contrast to the blue sky. I roll down the window and breathe deeply. The air is fresh. Clean. Earthy.
It’s perfect.
Everett pushes a button on his car, and the garage door rumbles to life in front of us. “This is it.”
I roll the window up as he pulls inside, cuts the ignition off, and leads me into the house.
To say it’s gorgeous would be an enormous understatement. It’s as beautiful inside as it is outside. The kitchen is masculine yet homey, with dark green cabinets, maple-colored floors, and white walls. There’s a huge stone fireplace in the family room on the opposite side of the open floor plan, too, along with a large leather sectional I can’t wait to melt into. Pictures line the walls, and if there was a definition of a picture-perfect family, this would be it. A mom. A dad. An older brother. A little girl. Smiling faces and a warmth you can feel through the photograph. My fingers itch to reach out and touch it, but I keep my hands tucked into the crooks of my elbows as I study a young Everett in his hockey gear. He must’ve just won something because his grin is contagious, and I catch my lips lifting.
“That’s us,” Everett explains beside me.
I tear my attention from the photograph and turn to him, searching his face for similarities to the boy in the picture. “You have your dad’s eyes,” I conclude.
“My mom says the same thing.” He tilts his head toward the hallway. “Come on. I’ll show you to your room.”
Flicking the hall light on, he points toward the first door on the left, pushing it open. “This one’s yours. Mine is on the right, and the bathroom is right…” He steps a little further down the hall, stopping at the next door on my side of the hall. “Here. Any questions? ”
I shake my head. “Nope. I don’t think so.”
“Good. Do you want to settle in while I make some food?”
“You cook?”
“Is that a problem?”
“No, it’s…um, I’ve never met a guy who cooks.”
He squeezes the back of his neck, almost looking…shy? My pulse thrums a little faster, but I shove the feeling aside.
“My dad’s the cook in the family and taught me how, along with Fin,” he finally explains.
“That’s…really cool,” I admit.
“Don’t be too impressed. You haven’t tried any of my cooking yet.” He rests his shoulder against the wall. “I bought stuff for lasagna, chicken noodle soup, and steaks with broccoli and mashed potatoes. What sounds good?”
“Uh…” I try to keep my surprise in check, but did he seriously say lasagna? And chicken noodle soup? And steak with broccoli and mashed potatoes? Drake couldn’t make toast without burning it. Don’t get me wrong. I was right beside Everett when he purchased the ingredients, but I guess I assumed he’d have me cook for him or something. The fact he’s the one who planned to cook all along? It’s…strange.
Tucking my thumbs into the back pockets of my jeans, I rock back on my heels. “Whatever you feel like cooking sounds great. Can I help with anything?”
“Nah, I’m good.” He pushes himself away from the wall and starts toward the main area, calling over his shoulder, “I’ll be in the kitchen.”
“I’m not helpless, you know.” I don’t know why I say it, or maybe I do, but the idea of someone like Everett—someone who seems like he has every single piece of his life exactly where he wants it—waiting on me, and carrying my luggage, and driving me here, and making me dinner, and not assuming I’d be the one to cook for him tonight. It…it’s messing with me .
He turns around and faces me again. “What?”
“I said I’m not helpless.”
“I never said you were.”
“Yeah, but you look at me like I am.”
He frowns. “When have I?—”
“At the rink when we first met,” I argue. “And at the tattoo shop. And at the party. And when you picked me up on the side of the road.” My tongue darts out, and I lick my bottom lip. “And when I couldn’t make the lock work at my apartment.”
“I stepped in because we’re trying to make this look real to Drake.”
“And your reason for insisting I not help you cook?” I challenge.
“I figured you might want a break.”
“And maybe I feel like I could use a distraction,” I point out. “My house is gone. My car is gone. I am solely relying on you, and now you’re cooking me food? Homemade, yummy food when I’ve been living off cereal and takeout? It’s…I don’t know. I guess you can drop the boyfriend act when we’re alone, okay?”
“Boyfriend act?”
“You said we’re trying to make this look real,” I remind him. “Well, no one’s here to fake it for, so…”
“So you think I’m only offering to cook you a meal because it’s what a good boyfriend would do?”
“Isn’t it, though?” I push, well aware of how crazy I must sound. I’m not mad. I’m…well, I’m confused, dammit. He’s the one who wanted to make it clear none of this is real, not me, so why is he being so…kind? Especially when we both know he isn’t getting anything out of this. Hell, the only reason he’s doing it in the first place is because he owes Reeves a favor. It might be smart for both of us to remember .
Unfortunately, I have a feeling all I’ve done is piss him off, and it makes me feel even smaller. I don’t want to be a burden. I don’t want to make him mad. But it doesn’t matter what I want because I can feel his frustration as he scrubs his hand over his face and drops his arm to his side.
“Hey, Raine?”
My brows crinkle as I wait for him to spit out whatever he’s going to say. When he doesn’t, I give in. “Yes?”
“I’m craving lasagna, which takes a little while to make. Want to help me in the kitchen?”
I know what this is. It’s an olive branch. A terribly veiled but desperately needed olive branch.
Drake never offered olive branches. Hell, pretty sure the asshole didn’t believe in them. The reminder makes me want to cry, but I force it back.
“Sure,” I murmur. “I’d love to.”
As he leaves, my phone rings, and I pull it out, expecting to see Drake’s name, but I find my boss’s instead.
Sliding my thumb across the screen, I lift my phone to my ear and answer, “Hello?”
“Raine?”
“Hey, Lucian. What’s up?”
“Just checkin’ in. You all right?”
Like a bucket of ice water, dread washes over me. “W-why wouldn’t I be? Am I scheduled for tonight? If I am, I didn't know.”
“You’re not on the schedule tonight,” he tells me.
The pit in my stomach grows, and I press my hand to my abs, letting out a slow breath as I wait for him to say…something. To clarify why he’s calling or what the problem is. When he stays quiet, I prod, “Okay?”
“Drake’s been here.”
“What? ”
“He’s been pestering Lana all afternoon. Asking for your schedule. When you’ll be in again. Wanting access to your locker and shit.”
My chin drops to my chest, and I squeeze my eyes shut. “Is he still there?”
There’s a short pause before Lucian’s low voice comes back on the line. “He’s parked out front.”
Of course, he is.
“We broke up,” I admit. “Obviously, he isn’t taking it well.”
“Figured as much. You want me to call the cops?”
“No,” I rush out. “No, it’s fine.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah, positive.”
“What do you want me to tell him the next time he comes in?”
“Tell him I quit,” I murmur.
“Raine…”
“I know,” I whisper. “Thank you, Lucian. For giving me the job. For helping me out.”
“Sure thing, Raine. You know I’d do anything for you, right?”
Even though he can’t see me, I still bob my head up and down as I fight back tears. “I know.” I sniff. “I know you would. But, I think it’s going to take some time before Drake lets this go, and since he lives across the street from the shop, it’s only a matter of time until he tries to corner me so we can talk, and I really don’t want to talk, so…”
“So, this is it, huh?” he asks.
“Thanks, Lucian,” I repeat. “I’m serious. I… Thank you.”
“Anytime, darlin’. Want me to put some feelers out? See if there’re any other shops with open apprenticeships?”
“No,” I whisper. “No, it’s fine.”
“Too late. I already decided,” he announces. “Talk soon. ”
The call goes dead before I can push him to explain what he meant. I let my hand fall to my side. It’s over. My apprenticeship is over. It sucks. It really freaking sucks.
What the hell am I going to do now?