11. Chapter Ten
Chapter Ten
Harbor
Kairo. That’s what he said his name was when he drove me home. Silly me. I didn’t even ask, not even when I agreed to spend a weekend at his cabin.
This giant question mark is affecting me in ways I couldn’t understand, and yet want to experience.
Even if it meant the death of me.
I had never been much of a risk taker, but if anything, these dreams show me that I should take a leap. Obviously something is missing in my life and it’s my duty to find out what the fuck that is.
The phone rings, and its vibrations rattle in my bones, my resolve starting to crumble as Lila’s name flashes on the screen. Shit. I never called her. I fling it onto the couch, facedown and smothered by cushions. It stops. Silence hums, just long enough to believe I’m safe, before the rattling starts again. She knows me too well. Must sense that I’m about to make a horrible decision. One out of character and she wants to talk me out of it.
But really… what are the odds he’s a murderer? Pretty slim, right? So… I may as well listen to the little voice that says I should just dive in and do it. No regrets. Probably. My bag waits by the door. If it had arms, they’d be crossed and tapping impatiently.
I pace between the couch and the door, like one of those neurotic mall-goers who just window shop and never buy. I imagine Kairo standing in a bright aisle labeled Dangerous Decisions or Just Plain Stupid, waiting for me to figure myself out. But his face stays blurry in my mind, and I can’t quite hold the shape of him. I keep seeing the man in my book. The faceless guy who chases me. Who forces me to confront the fear, the unknown. He’s got a name now and I want to scream it.
The sound of my phone startles me. It shouldn’t, but it does. It pulls me out of my fantasy and that irritates me.
Let it go, I tell myself, let it ring.
The phone wins. I mash the answer button before my brain catches up with my fingers.
“Hi, Li.”
“Hi, Harbor. So you ARE there.”
There’s a pause. “Don’t do this.”
“Do what?” I play dumb. We’ve known each other for years. She knows when I’m being stupid.
“Girl, I just have this feeling you’re doing something dumb and I need to tell you to not do it. Why won’t you just tell me what’s going on so I can help you not make a decision you’ll regret?”
I sigh, the noise loud in the speaker. “I’m going to a cabin with a guy I met at the bar.”
“You barely know him,” she says. “Are you out of your mind?”
“Maybe. But I feel like I have to do this.”
“Harbor, this is literally how women go missing. How they die! Please, at least share your location with me.”
Silence stretches as I contemplate. I pull the phone from my ear and stare at her number, and it glares back at me.
“Fine. I’ll turn on Find My Phone. But don’t be a snoop and come find me unless I never come home. Got it?” I click on the app. “Do you see me?”
“Yup. But let it reflect for the record that I think this is dumb, Harbor. you’re going to get hurt.”
“Whatever,” another sigh escapes me. “It’s just a weekend. I gotta go. He’s gonna be here soon.”
I tap the end button. I love her, I really do, but for once I just want to be reckless and let the chips fall where they may. My eyes fall on the offensive bag by the door, already packed, already sealed in its own certainty about what comes next. Why am I even considering going? A cabin, just the two of us, nothing but time and empty space to confront each other and all the ways he already seems to know me too well.
My pacing grows frantic, the loops tighter as I burn anxiety into the floorboards. I shove my hair back, untangle it, wrap it in a messy knot again. I shouldn’t be doing this. I shouldn’t even want to.
The phone rings again, but I don’t make a move to answer it.
Kairo’s number lights up the screen next, and I’m ready to vomit. Lila is right. This is stupid.
I’ll be there in two. A text comes through and I nod.
Yup. I’m doing this.
Packing my phone in my pocket and shoving a romance novel down the side of my suitcase, I zip the front shut. The motion feels wrong. Like I should be doing the opposite. Unpacking, unzipping, unraveling all these urges and leaving them in neat piles on the floor. All these urges I never had before, urges that smell like cedar and dark woods and a man who—
I lose the thought, along with my resolve, telling myself again that it’s just a weekend. I need this.
I know where it’s coming from. It’s why I hid the photograph of my father and brother’s hands, why I never bothered to report it. Why waking up covered in come wasn’t as scary as it should be. Or why the idea of my manuscript being tainted by blotted ink and dried baby juice didn’t terrify me. I know these urges, this idea of going to a cabin with Kairo, isn’t sane, but it might be the only way to silence what’s haunting me.
The nightmares won’t stop. They won’t stop, and I’ll never stop unless I...
It’s just a weekend, I tell myself again, letting Kairo’s name flash once more. I take a deep breath, ignore the fluttering in my stomach, grab my bag and stand in front of my door, my hand resting on the knob.
Last chance to-
The knock is loud, and I feel the sound pulse through my chest. Another insistence, another certainty. I hold my breath until I see spots, open the door when I’m about to burst. Kairo stands there, tall and fucking gorgeous. My entire world narrows to the sight of him - strong jaw, broad shoulders, the flash of dark eyes before they settle on my bag. I’m packed, it’s happening. He folds me into his embrace with the ease of possession. Like I’m his girl. “Ready?” he asks with that deep, rumbly voice that steals my breath, like he’s already claimed me.
His presence fills my small apartment, my smaller world, and I feel crowded by him, suffocated and overwhelmed and more alive than I’ve felt in months. Like I’m about to pass out or pass some point of no return. His smile makes my skin too tight, a slow tension building beneath, but I smile back and convince myself this isn’t crazy. His hand finds mine, and the contact spreads through me, heat or panic or both.
I nod, a shaky gesture, and it’s enough.
“I have it,” he says, taking my bag, taking my will.
He’s in control before I know what I’ve given up.
We leave the safety of my apartment and I lock the door with shaky hands, almost dropping my keys twice before he guides it in the hole with a wink.
He leads me to his car, his hand still on mine. I should be thinking about what this means, about going to a cabin in the woods with a man who makes my heart ricochet and my blood quicken with a single word. A man I barely know. A man who already knows too much about me. But Kairo makes it impossible to think of anything except him. The desire that rolls off him in waves, pulling me under. Drowning and wanting it.
His touch lingers, his thumb tracing my knuckles before he opens the passenger door. Before he leans in, catching my breath and holding it hostage.
“It’s beautiful out there,” he says. “You’ll love it. Trust me.”
Words so simple I shouldn’t feel them this deeply, shouldn’t feel the sharp edge beneath. He moves with intent, closing the door before I have the chance to answer. Before I remember that I’m terrible at trusting anything but my instincts. Especially when they scream at me this way, high and warning, and completely ignored.
The car swallows me, it looks expensive and smells of leather and him. He gets in and the interior shrinks even more.
“Ready?” he asks again. This time it’s not a question. Not really.
“Ready,” I say, trying to believe it.
The city unfolds behind us. The miles roll forward. So do I.
We slip onto the highway, and Kairo slips into easy conversation, like this isn’t a huge and dangerous step, like we’re a normal couple taking a normal trip. “So tell me more about your book,” he says, glancing over with those eyes. “The one with the masked guy who hunts you.”
“How do you know those details?”
His jaw tightens, ever so slightly. “You told me the first night at the bar.”
“Right.” I don’t remember telling him. Maybe I did. “Um… yeah, I’m almost done. Maybe this weekend will help me with the ending. Maybe it won’t.”
I expect him to tease, to push. He doesn’t.
“Maybe it won’t.” He agrees and his jaw relaxes.
“Maybe you’ll wish you left me at home. I tend to chatter on and on about my books to anyone who will listen. It annoys the hell out of them.”
“Not a chance,” he says, a small laugh catching in his throat like a cough, like disbelief.
He reaches for my hand, a quick squeeze, then releases. The effect isn’t quick at all. It lingers. He doesn’t say anything more and neither do I. Just letting the silence fill the space and calm my galloping heart.
The roads get narrower, winding, each turn a question I don’t know how to answer. It’s happening, it’s real, and I’m more anxious than ever.
The hours slip away. So do my excuses. My fears. My sense. All that’s left is the smell of him and a feeling that I’ve signed up for far more than I bargained for.
He pulls me close and pulls off the highway, down a dirt road with a dingy sign that says Pine Ridge Retreat . There’s no sign of anyone else. There’s no sign of anything except the forest and us.
“Not far now,” he says, watching me more than the road, like he’s watching for second thoughts, like he knows I’m beyond having them. The car slows to a crawl as he forces it over the bumpy terrain.
“Good,” I whisper. “I mean, I can’t wait.”
He leans over, his breath a whisper against my cheek, and I feel a strange thrill at being this isolated. At not caring. At wanting it this way.
The dirt road disappears into the trees, and the car devours the distance, consumes it as slowly as Kairo’s consuming me.
“There. Just up ahead.” He points, taking that dark gaze off of me for a moment, allowing me to suck air into my lungs.
It’s a monument to bad ideas. I see it from the last curve of the road, impossible to miss. Bigger than expected. Like my hope and my fear. The cabin sits at the edge of reason, and there’s no turning back. Nothing but trees and us, with silence more deafening than I can stand. I hold my breath. My breath holds me. We stop. No service. No neighbors. No exit. Just us.
Kairo looks at me like he’s won, like I’m the prize. “Well?” he asks.
It should sound simple, should be easy to answer, but my mind swirls with possibilities and warnings and words I never thought I’d say. I knew it would be remote. I knew it would be risky. I didn’t know how much I’d want it this way, how much I’d want to make all the bad decisions, all at once.
“Well?” he asks again, the edge of question slipping into something harder.
“It’s beautiful,” I say. “Isolated. Very...”
“Isolated,” he says with a smirk.
He seems pleased, the hunter who has brought home the biggest game. Getting out of the car, he heads around to the passenger side and opens my door. He takes my hand, and pulls.
He sucks me into his orbit, toward the cabin. “Come on, I’ll grab our stuff later,” he says. I come. I follow. I try to ignore how willingly.
The inside isn’t anything fancy, but more than I imagined, larger than any sense I might have left, in any case.
“It’s perfect,” I say, believing it, not believing it, unsure which one scares me more.
“Perfect for writing. It’s not much, but it’ll do,” he says, and the words coil around me, hold me in place. “Perfect for us. Right now, at least.”
The cabin envelops me. Kairo envelops me. I can’t tell which one is warmer. Which one is more dangerous.
The shadows of trees press close to the windows, dark shapes against the glass. I imagine Kairo standing at the edge of the woods, watching for the perfect moment to strike. Watching for me. Tracking me. My breath catches, but he doesn’t notice. Or pretends not to.
He leads me through the rooms. Kitchen. Living room. Fireplace that promises heat, but not the kind that already burns me.
No neighbors.
No cell service.
No escape.
Not the way I thought, not at all.
We end the tour at a large bed. Only one.
“It’s yours,” he says, his words more a command than an offer. “I’ll take the couch.”
He knows my hesitation before I do.
He knows so much.
“Okay,” I say, the floor falling out beneath me. I want him to want me. I want him to take me, right now, right here, just like this. I need him to take my choice away from me because it’s all I can do to stop myself from running, screaming back to the car at the stupid, stupid decision I’ve made coming here.
And yet…
My desire won’t stop.
I won’t stop unless I confront what I want most.
It’s just a weekend. I’m here now.
I’ll stay.