Chapter 25 Taryn
Taryn
When I wake up the next morning, something’s wrong.
I lay very still in bed for several moments, trying to figure out what it is, before I realize that the house is far too quiet. I can’t hear the sound of anyone else rattling around downstairs in the kitchen or down the hall in the bathroom. No chickens clucking outside or axes hitting wood.
And none of the background noise that I’ve grown used to in the house. The random creaks and groans that happen when the earth moves under us, or some part of the house decides to settle. No wind rattling the shutters or moisture falling on the roof.
Just pure, dead silence.
The moment I get out of bed, I see why. Outside, the world is buried in snow.
I can see the tips of some of the trees in the driveway and in the distance, but many of them are completely submerged, and when I look down, I see the snow has covered the patio that runs the length of the house.
It’s piled along the house and reaches to within a couple feet of my window.
And it’s still coming down.
I dress as quickly as I can, brush my teeth and make sure I look at least somewhat presentable, and then hurry downstairs.
It’s darker down here, like it’s secretly nighttime, and I see that the curtains are pulled on the windows, the doors all secured with boards.
Some of the lights are on and a hot fire roars in the fireplace, with a new stack of wood sitting next to it.
The lights on the Christmas tree are on, and the room smells of pine needles and firewood.
I look around like I’m seeing it for the first time, which is stupid when I’ve been living in this house for a week now, and then turn to find Gunner and Gabe in the kitchen drinking coffee.
“What’s going on?” I ask.
Gabe gives me a look that says he thinks I may have woken up without my brain. “It’s snowing,” he says slowly. “A lot.”
I make a face at him. “I noticed that, asshole. What does that mean?”
Gunner pushes himself off the counter, coffee cup in hand, and strolls toward the fireplace, where he stands with his back to the flame, warming himself.
“It means,” he says, “that we’re snowed in.
Snow’s nearly up to the second floor and still coming down.
All the vehicles are buried, and even if they weren’t, no one plows the roads up here. We’re stuck. Snowed in.”
Snowed in. The phrase makes me feel immediately panicked, though I don’t know why.
I’ve been snowed in here before, when I was younger.
Not often, but a couple of times over the years, and it always felt like an adventure.
Like we were explorers stuck in a cave somewhere in the forest, having to make our own way in the world.
Gabe and I always thought it was hilarious.
I know the rules for being snowed in: We live on what we have, make sure the animals are safe, and do our best to dig our way out.
We wait for the snow to melt enough for us to leave, and until then, we entertain ourselves with what we have.
No big deal.
So why does it suddenly feel like a situation that might explode on us at any moment?
* * *
Within an hour I know why it felt explosive.
My instincts were screaming at me that this was going to go sideways on all of us, and they were right.
Gabe and Gunner seemed to have come to an understanding yesterday, and even teamed up to attack me in our little snow war, but now Gunner, at least, has forgotten about their truce.
The men are at each other’s throats, arguing about everything, and when Gunner gets on the phone and starts arguing with someone else—I presume Gabby, based on what I hear—Gabe snorts in disgust and goes outside, saying he’s going to start trying to clear some snow.
I don’t know what he’s going to do when it’s still snowing out, but decide I’d better not say anything and head up to my room to try to make myself scarce. Before I can get up the stairs, though, Gunner puts his phone on speaker so I can hear the whole conversation.
And what I hear terrifies me.
“Gunner, I know she’s still there, and now the three of you are snowed in together. I don’t trust it,” Gabby says, and I have no problem hearing the truth.
It’s not them she doesn’t trust. It’s me. This woman, who I have never met, is convinced that I’m here for nefarious purposes and that I’m going to use this forced proximity to…
What?
Does she think I somehow manufactured this entire snowstorm? Because if I can do that, I’m wasting my time trying to get a college degree. I need to start advertising my services as a Weather Wizard.
I let myself smile at the thought—the possibilities are endless—but grow serious when I hear her continue.
“I know her mother, you know. I know where she comes from. And if she’s anything like Helen, she—”
“Gabby!” Gunner roars, sounding part furious and part panicked. “That’s enough! The girl is my stepdaughter and got into some trouble. She needed help. That’s all there is to it.”
Gabby evidently doesn’t get the memo that Gunner thinks she’s said enough.
“And why didn’t she call her mother if she needed help?
Why didn’t she call her new stepfather? The one with all the money and contacts, who actually has a responsibility to help her?
Because you don’t, Gunner. You’re not her stepfather anymore.
You’re just playing with a girl that everyone knows you can’t trust.”
Her voice cuts off when he disconnects the call, but I’m frozen on the stairs, my blood gone cold and thick in my veins.
Because he might have cut her off, but not before she revealed some very important information. She doesn’t like me. Doesn’t trust me. Definitely wants me gone. And evidently knows a lot more about my life in the city than she should.
Which makes me suspect she’s still in contact with my mother.
And that makes Gabby way more dangerous than I realized.
* * *
We spend the first day of being snowed in carefully avoiding each other, walking around like the house is covered in eggshells that we’re trying not to break and barely speaking to each other.
When Gabe and Gunner cross paths they snarl at each other like two dogs forced into the same cage, and though I play peacemaker whenever I can, I start to wonder if they’d tear each other apart if they were here alone.
And I begin to get a very clear picture of what the last four years has been like for them.
Two men who evidently don’t know how to communicate stuck in the same house, trying to run a business together.
Two men who also don’t know how to process their own emotions.
In fact, I wonder if they even realize they have them.
Because I’ve had them both alone long enough to know they have feelings for me.
Hell, Gabe has practically become the best friend I knew when I was here again, sharing fears and dreams I doubt he’s ever told anyone else.
Falling asleep with his head on my chest and crying about his mother.
Holding me like he never wants to let me go.
At least in private.
In front of his friends or father, he acts like I don’t exist—or worse, don’t matter.
And Gunner is even more impossible. He doesn’t even wait for someone else to come around to act like I don’t matter. He does it all the time, for free. No audience required.
Though that hasn’t stopped him from climbing into bed with me. Twice.
The bigger problem is, I’m half in love with both of them, and it happened when I wasn’t looking. That’s going to make it hard to leave them, but I don’t know what else I can do. I’m not going to stay in a house with men I think I might love when they won’t even admit that they kind of like me.
I can’t.
In short, by the second day, I’m bored out of my mind and so tired of the tension that I want to get my magic bag out and take it to the bathroom for some relief.
Instead, I see my old camera on the shelf and have an idea.
It’s stopped snowing, at least, and I want out of the house.
Away from the tension and conflict in here and out into the open air.
I grab my camera, throw on a coat, and run for the stairs, praying I don’t see Gunner on the way down. I don’t want to have to explain where I’m going or what I’m doing, and I definitely don’t want him trying to talk me out of it.
I get down the stairs and out the door without anyone interfering, and once I’m outside I pause to look around and get my bearings.
It’s so bright out here it’s practically glowing, and my first thought is that the light is going to cause problems with the exposure on the film.
I’m going to have to change the camera’s settings to let in as little light as possible, just to protect the pictures.
It’ll make the shadows darker and the whites brighter, but to be honest.. . I don’t hate the idea.
Smiling, I set out, my eyes on the trees in the distance. I want to start there. I love the fact that only the tips are visible. It feels threatening. Dangerous. Almost hopeless, except that the trees are still standing. Waiting for the snow to melt.
Waiting for the sun to come back into their world.