13. Sloane
SLOANE
T he cabin is steeped in stillness, the kind that thrums around me like a live wire.
I lie on my cot, staring up at the wooden beams overhead, a restless energy keeping sleep at bay.
Shadows play tricks on the walls, and thoughts of my father twist painfully in my mind, filling the space around me with an unsettling paranoia that I can’t shake.
Each creak of the cabin seems amplified in the silence, reminding me of the dangers lurking in the unseen.
I push the covers aside, feeling the chill creep into my bones, and slip out of bed. I need air—clear my mind before it completely spirals.
As I step outside, the cold night wraps around me like a thick blanket. The moon is hidden behind a shroud of clouds, and the stars are mere whispers in the vast sky.
I draw in a deep breath, scenting the pine trees and fresh earth, but even nature's calm fails to soothe my frayed nerves.
I pace the small porch, the wood creaking underfoot as I obsessively scan the treeline.
Fear coils in my gut—what if someone is watching?
The weight of my father’s disappearance hangs heavily on my soul, the fear that I might share his fate lurks just beyond the edges of my thoughts.
I don't know if it's the darkness or my mind that terrifies me more.
Logan emerges from the cabin, his silhouette a stark contrast against the night.
I don’t jump, but my instincts alert me to his presence immediately; he’s always been like that. “Couldn’t sleep?” he asks, his voice low and rough, scalar against the quiet backdrop.
I shake my head, trying to mask the surge of anxiety that wells up inside me.
“Just needed some air.” I look back toward the night sky, hoping the stars might provide some solace, but they remain distant and indifferent.
He joins me at the railing, leaning forward slightly, his breath visible in the cold air.
“It’s a beautiful night,” he comments, though his gaze is elsewhere, focused on the shadows that flicker in the trees.
The calm facade he wears has a way of amplifying my own apprehension; I can feel the tension radiating from him.
“Yeah, beautiful,” I murmur, though my throat feels tight. “Just too quiet, if you ask me. Makes it hard to think.”
He nods as if he understands. “A still night like this can make the mind wander. You start hearing things.” His eyes darken with an emotion I can’t place.
I turn to him, my heart racing. “What do you hear?” I search his expression, trying to penetrate the stoic mask he wears, wondering how much silence he’s endured.
“Sometimes I think I hear shadows,” he replies, his voice low, grounded. “Reminders of the past. Like they’re just waiting for the moment to catch up with you.”
I swallow hard, the truth of his words striking a chord. “For me, it’s the fear of what happened to my father. Seeing him disappear without a trace is… it’s haunting.” I hesitate, weighing my words. “What if I’m next?”
Logan’s attention sharpens; I catch the slight twitch of his jaw as he processes my admission. “Everyone has ghosts, Sloane. It’s how you deal with them that counts.”
A shiver travels down my spine, and I shoot a glance towards the treeline again.
“But what if those ghosts aren’t just memories? What if they’ve come back for me?” I feel the rise of panic, the paranoia suffocating me in its grip.
“Then you face them head-on,” he says firmly, but I see his eyes flicker with something vulnerable. “You can’t let fear dictate your life. We’ve both fought too hard to let it win.”
Something shifts in the air between us, an understanding forged in our shared vulnerabilities.
Yet, I still feel distant from him, an unwelcome weight of uncertainty pulling at the edges of our exchange.
“What if I can’t? What if knowing the truth is worse than living in the dark?” I press, my voice trembling on the edge of desperation.
“Then use that fear. Let it fuel you,” Logan replies, his gaze unwavering and heavy. “We’re not powerless, Sloane. We might have burdens, but that also means we have the power to shift them.”
I blink, surprised by his conviction. “You make it sound so easy,” I say, pulling my arms tighter around myself against the chill. “You know how much I want to fight, to expose the truth, but I feel so small.”
His expression softens, and I feel an unexpected warmth spread between us in that frigid moment.
“You’re not small. You’ve fought battles that would break most people.” He pauses, and I see the gears turning in his mind as if he’s measuring every word carefully. “It’s okay to be afraid, but don’t let it silence you.”
His words linger between us, heavy with meaning. For a second, I forget the weight of our fears and connect with the quiet strength he embodies.
“It’s hard to imagine a future when the past feels so close,” I confess, my voice barely above a whisper. “Sometimes, I can’t help but wonder if a piece of me is lost for good.”
Logan steps a little closer, the shadows from the cabin pooling around him. “We claw our way through the dark. That’s sometimes the only way to find our strength.”
For the first time in a long while, I let go of some of the tension in my shoulders, even if just a little.
The night around us feels more tangible, less ominous, grounded by the shared weight of our words.
As I look into Logan’s eyes, I see a flicker of understanding, but it lies buried beneath layers of unspoken pain—his burdens and mine entangled under the endless sky.
And then, suddenly, that air of vulnerability transforms into something electrifying.
The distance between us shrinks as my heart pounds in my chest, driven by an instinct I can’t ignore.
Before I think better of it, I push forward, our lips meeting in a soft, tentative kiss. It deepens, folding in the weight of all that we’ve endured—the grief, the tension, the yearning for connection.
I pull back slightly, breathless. The sparks of intimacy flitter between us, igniting something alive. “Logan, I…” I begin, but the words feel heavy and tangled.
“Let’s not use words right now,” he murmurs, foreheads touching, his voice low and sincere.
In that moment, surrounded by the enveloping darkness of the night, I sense a deepening bond between us—a connection that feels both frightening and exhilarating.