Chapter 10
William
Davey’s little electric two-seater is the cutest car I’ve ever seen. It’s a glossy mint-green thing with white racing stripes, barely big enough for the two of us and our stuff, but it purrs like a contented kitten as we pile in.
“My Pop wanted me to get something a little bigger,” Davey giggles. “But then he remembered I like Little things so just had to go along with it!”
“Ha!” I reply. “He knows you well. Seriously though, this car is everything. So cute.”
I toss my overnight bag into the tiny trunk along with Davey’s, then carefully wedge the big pink box of sweet treats—chocolate chip cookies, gummy bears, mini cupcakes, and enough marshmallow fluff to feed a small army—between the seats.
Twist rides shotgun on my lap, safely buckled in with his own little seatbelt that Davey bought as a joke last year. He has one for his stuffie too. Truly this is a car that any Little would love.
“Ready for our emergency mini-break?” Davey asks, sliding behind the wheel in oversized sunglasses and a pastel hoodie. He looks like the poster boy for wholesome escapes.
“More than ready,” I say, clipping my own seatbelt. “Remote lectures tomorrow sound perfect. I already emailed the professors.”
We pull away from his townhouse, the electric motor almost silent as we glide through the city streets. I watch the familiar buildings slide past… the Uppington Building, the library that now holds way too many intense memories… and I feel a strange mix of sadness and relief.
This trip is the right thing.
I know it in my bones.
And whatever happens when I come back, I’ll deal with that then.
As we leave the dense downtown behind and merge onto the highway heading upstate, I let out a long, shaky breath. The weight that’s been sitting on my chest since the library—since Kane—finally starts to lift.
The city has never felt like my natural home. I grew up in a quiet semi-rural town where the loudest sound at night was crickets or the occasional over enthusiastic dog bark.
These past couple of years I’ve adapted, thrown myself into the hustle.
But right now… and with everything spinning out of control? All I want is fresh air, trees, and somewhere I don’t have to look over my shoulder every five seconds.
“You okay?” Davey asks, glancing over as the buildings give way to green hills.
“Yeah,” I say softly, hugging Twist tighter. “I really am. Thank you for this. I needed it more than I realized.”
The drive is beautiful. Rolling countryside replaces concrete. The windows are down, warm spring air whipping through our hair. We blast our favorite playlists. Lots of early 2000s pop makes us sing along shamelessly.
Davey tells me funny stories about Charles trying to cook him dinner and burning the pasta. I laugh until my sides hurt. For the first time in days, my mind isn’t constantly replaying Kane’s voice or the sharp crack of his discipline.
By the time we reach Davey’s family cabin on the lake, the sun is dipping low, painting the water in shades of gold and rose.
The cabin is perfect. Rustic but cozy, with a big wooden deck overlooking the water, string lights already twinkling, and a fire pit ready to go. We unpack quickly, change into our softest pajamas and carry our stuffies, blankets, and the massive box of treats out to the deck.
The evening air is cool and clean. We settle into oversized Adirondack chairs with fuzzy blankets over our laps. Twist and Hardy sit propped up between us like little chaperones. Davey lights the fire pit and we skewer marshmallows on long sticks, giggling as they toast to gooey perfection.
A little Bluetooth speaker plays Britney Spears on low and “Oops!... I Did It Again” gives the whole scene the perfect nostalgic vibe. We sway in our chairs, sticky marshmallow fingers and happy hearts.
“This is exactly what I needed,” I murmur, licking chocolate from my thumb. “No city noise. No… complications.”
Davey gives me a knowing look but doesn’t push.
We talk about everything and nothing… our theses, funny seminar stories, dream stuffie collections we’d buy if we won the lottery. The fire crackles, Britney sings, and for a while everything feels light and safe.
When Davey excuses himself to go to the bathroom inside, the peaceful bubble pops just a little.
I stare out at the dark lake, the reflection of the string lights dancing on the water.
My hand drifts to the pocket of my pajama bottoms. My phone is still there, powered off since the café this morning.
I fidget in my chair, my mind suddenly trying to play tricks on me.
Just a quick check.
What if there’s a university email?
What if…
My resolve cracks like thin ice. I pull the phone out and turn it on. The screen lights up, searching for signal. My heart beats faster. When it finally connects, a single notification pops up.
KANE: ?
That’s it. Just a question mark.
“What the hell,” I mutter.
I stare at the message, frustration, anger, and confusion slamming into me all at once. I sent him a clear message telling him I never wanted to see him again, and he replies with a single punctuation mark?
Like my boundaries are a joke?
Like he thinks I’m playing hard to get or throwing a Little tantrum he can ignore?
Heat rushes to my face. Part of me wants to type back something furious. Another part—the traitorous, aching part—wants to know what he means by it.
Is he mocking me?
Testing me?
Or is that single question mark his way of saying he doesn’t accept my decision?
Before I can spiral further, Davey reappears on the deck. He spots the glowing phone in my hands immediately.
“Oh no you do not!” Davey says, swooping in and gently but firmly swiping it out of my grasp. “Phone jail until we leave. You gave it to me for a reason, remember?”
I blink, then burst into giggles. The tension breaks. “You’re right. It’s for the best. I don’t even know why I turned it on.”
Davey tucks my phone into his own pajama pocket with a triumphant grin. “Because you’re a curious Little who’s still processing a very intense encounter with a very intense man. But tonight is about marshmallows, Britney, and zero dangerous Daddy drama.”
We both laugh, the sound carrying out over the quiet lake. He skewers another marshmallow for me and we go back to toasting, singing along to the music, and making up fun stories about what Twist and Hardy might do if they went on their own stuffies-only camping trip.
Later, when the fire burns low and we’re curled up under blankets with our stuffies, I feel steadier.
The single question mark still lingers in the back of my mind, but it doesn’t feel quite so overwhelming out here.
The fresh air, the distance from the city, Davey’s unwavering support—it’s exactly what I needed.
Tomorrow we’ll do remote lectures.
Maybe go for a hike.
We’ll definitely eat way too many candies.
And I’ll keep my phone off and my thoughts focused on the safe, predictable world I belong in.
At least… that’s the plan.
* * *
The next evening comes way too quickly.
After a perfect day spent splashing in the lake, chasing each other with water guns, building the world’s most lopsided sandcastle on the tiny beach, and stuffing ourselves with even more candies, we finally pack up Davey’s two-seater.
My muscles ache in the best way from all the running and laughing. Twist is tucked safely in my backpack, a little damp from one enthusiastic dip in the water, but happy. Davey and I are both sun-kissed and relaxed, the kind of tired that feels like a reset button for the soul.
“I can’t thank you enough for this,” I tell him as we load the last bags into the tiny trunk. “Seriously. The fresh air, the lake, no phone… I feel like a person again.”
Davey grins and bumps my shoulder.
“That was the whole point,” Davey giggles.
“And I kept my promise… no phone access. You’re welcome.
Well apart from that one time you sneaked a peek!
” He winks, patting the pocket where my phone is still safely locked away.
“Now let’s get back to the city before we turn into full-time lake gremlins. ”
We climb in, wave goodbye to the cabin, and pull onto the winding road that will eventually lead us back to the highway. The sun has already set, leaving the sky a deep indigo. Britney is playing softly again, and we sing along half-heartedly, both of us a little sleepy and full of s’mores.
About halfway home, the road becomes a long, dimly lit stretch flanked by thick woodland on both sides.
Streetlights are few and far between. It feels peaceful at first, quiet and private after the busy city.
I’m staring out the window, replaying happy moments from the day, when the car’s dashboard suddenly lights up with a bright warning.
“Software malfunction detected,” a calm robotic voice announces. “Attempting to correct…”
Davey frowns. “That’s weird. It’s never done that before.”
The screen flickers, resets, and then the charge indicator flashes up.
Zero percent.
“What the…” Davey says, his eyes darting back and forth between the road and the touchscreen.
We both stare at it in disbelief as the car begins to slow down on its own, the electric motor whining softly before going completely silent. The little mint-green car rolls to a gentle standstill on the shoulder of the empty road.
For a second, we just look at each other.
Then we burst out laughing.
“Oh my gosh,” Davey giggles, covering his mouth. “Of all the times for this fancy eco-car to betray us!”
“I thought rich-boy cars were supposed to be reliable!” I tease, unbuckling my seatbelt. “Come on, let’s stretch our legs while we work out what to do.”
We step out into the night. The laughter dies almost immediately.
It’s dark. Really dark. The only light comes from the weak interior glow of the car and a few distant stars.
On both sides of the road, tall trees loom like silent watchers.
The air is cooler now, carrying the rustle of leaves and the occasional hoot of an owl somewhere deep in the woods.
Every small sound feels amplified—twigs snapping, something scurrying in the underbrush. My skin prickles with unease.
“Okay… this is suddenly a lot less funny,” I whisper, moving closer to Davey.
He nods, pulling out his phone. “Yeah. I’m calling the emergency collection number my parents set up. They said a car would be here in under an hour, no matter what.”
He dials and speaks quickly to the operator, giving our location. When he hangs up, he forces a smile. “They’re sending someone. Should be here soon. We’ll be fine.”
“Uh-huh,” I reply. “Did I ever say I hated horror movies?”
“No,” Davey answers. “Me too.”
We stand shoulder to shoulder, arms linked, staring down the empty road.
Ten minutes crawl by.
The owls keep hooting. The woodland rustles again, louder this time. My imagination runs wild. Every shadow looks like a person. Every distant car sound, and there aren’t many, makes my heart jump.
Then headlights appear in the distance. A car slows down and pulls up behind us.
Relief floods me for half a second… until I really look at it.
It’s not a tow truck or a service vehicle. It’s a sleek, dark saloon car. A BMW, blacked-out windows, tinted so heavily I can’t see inside. The kind of car that looks expensive and menacing at the same time. My stomach drops.
“Davey…” I whisper, grabbing his arm tighter. “That’s not the pick up car is it?”
“I don’t think so,” Davey replies, his voice laced with fear.
We both step back instinctively, huddling together.
My mind races with every horror story I’ve ever heard about boys stranded on dark roads.
We’re ready to scream, to run into the trees if we have to.
My legs feel shaky. Twist is still in the car and I feel a strong pang of guilt for even considering leaving him behind.
The driver’s door opens.
A man steps out. Tall, broad-shouldered, dressed in dark clothes. He raises his hands slowly, palms open, as if trying to show he’s not a threat. But in this setting, it does the opposite.
“Don’t worry,” he calls out, voice calm but carrying a faint Irish lilt. “I’m not here to hurt you.”
Davey and I stay frozen, hearts hammering.
“My name’s Padraig,” he continues, taking one careful step forward. “I’m a friend of Kane’s.”
The name hits me like a slap. My knees nearly buckle. Kane.
Of course. Of course this isn’t a coincidence. The sinking feeling I had when the BMW first appeared crashes over me fully. This isn’t Davey’s emergency service. This is Kane’s world reaching out and grabbing me even when I tried to run.
Davey’s grip on my arm tightens. “How do you know we’re here?” he demands, voice braver than I feel. “What do you want?”
Padraig keeps his hands visible. He looks… surprisingly non-threatening up close. Handsome in a rough way, with bright blue eyes and an easy posture, but I can tell he’s dangerous. The kind of man who moves like he’s used to violence.
“Kane got worried when he couldn’t reach William,” Padraig explains. “He asked me to check on him. Saw the car stalled on the tracking… don’t ask how. I was nearby. Figured you boys might need a ride before some real creep shows up.”
I swallow hard.
My thoughts are a whirlwind.
Kane has been tracking me? Or my phone? The single question mark message suddenly feels even more ominous. He didn’t accept my “never see you again” text. Instead, he sent someone after me.
Davey looks at me, clearly torn between fear and the practical need for help. The woodland rustles again. Another owl hoots, closer this time. We’re two Littles, stranded on a dark road, with a man who just admitted he works for the dangerous stranger I’ve been running from.
I don’t know whether to feel terrified… or strangely relieved that it’s not a random predator.
Padraig waits patiently, giving us space.
“Look, I get it,” Padraig says. “You’re scared. But I promise I’m just here to get you home safe. Kane would skin me alive if anything happened to you, William.”
The casual way he says it sends another shiver down my spine.
I glance at Davey.
He looks back at me, eyes wide with the same mix of panic and confusion I’m feeling.
Our perfect, peaceful escape is over.
Kane’s world has found me again.
And this time, I’m pretty sure that running isn’t even an option…