Jolene
“Invalid code entry. Please see owner.”
Motherfucker!
I tried another number combination.
“Invalid code entry. Please see owner.”
I swear before the Lord, this is some fuck shit.
Another code combination.
“Invalid code entry. Please see owner.”
What the fuck is the code!?!?!
Pulling my phone from my cleavage in the trashiest way possible, I weighed my options. Realizing that the only workable one was texting Dak or his daddy for it, I slid my iPhone back to its hiding spot between double and d.
I’ll jump this fence if I have to before I call anyone that is at that damn church.
Ignoring the fact that the fence was well over twelve foot tall, I tried one last four-digit code. The gate’s engine, or whatever it is that makes the fucker move, roared to life and the bitch slid to the left.
Jackpot! Dumbass fuckin’ fence.
Ignoring the fact that the train to my gown was hung up, I slammed my car in drive. The tires on my Chevy Tahoe screeched on the loose, mountain gravel.
The old log cabin looked beautiful, and I fucking hated it.
Fuck honeymoon destinations that wind up not being used as honeymoon destinations.
The large, three-story cabin truly was beautiful. Having been friends with Dakota since we were young, we’ve spent so many summers, winters, and all things in between up here. His daddy nicknamed Jace, Dakota, Cassie and myself The Foolish Four because we’ve been in trouble up here more times than I can count. There was the time when we accidentally flooded the family room after overfilling the hot tub and leaving the back, sliding glass door open. There was the time we broke the railing off the balcony upstairs because we all got drunk and decided we wanted to repel down the side of the house. There was the time we tried to go full on Kevin McCallister and sled down the banister, through the side door, and down the side of the mountain hill, only to rip half the banister off the wall.
It’s a wonder Big Jake didn’t ban us from the cabin.
The cabin had been in the Clayton family for four generations and was as classic as it could possibly be, with only small tidbits of modern living. We finally convinced Dakota’s daddy, known to most everyone as Big Jake, to add WiFi a few years ago because we are all adults now and loved escaping here to work. The Verizon router and the newly renovated kitchen and bathroom were the only real upgrades, everything else was put in and kept the same way that Great Grand Daddy Clayton had built it.
Fuck, please let there be firewood chopped already. I’m not in a calm enough mindset to be trusted with an ax, or an ex, right now.
As I stared at the cabin, fresh pain flooded my veins.
You not only fucked up my life, my wedding day, and my friendship with my best friend, Jace, you fucked up my happy place and every good memory I’ve had since I was a teenager.
I jumped out my SUV, the gravel penetrating my bunny slippers.
Fuck, I hadn’t even put on my damn high heels when I ran the fuck outta there.
I stomped to the front porch, my bunny ears bouncing with every step. A moment of panic washed over me as I remembered I didn’t have the keys. Dak was going to give them to us at the reception.
Fortunately, I knew where the hide-a-key was hidden. One twist of the old key and the front door swung open. The smell of time, familiarity, and cedar smacked me in the face.
The feeling of being at home was too much and my anger turned into ache.