Coraline
I’m snowed in with the Grinch.
I’m sure of it.
I feel defeated. Every time I think we’re getting along, taking two steps forward, we’re going three distant, impatient steps back. I didn’t mean to break his boundaries by going into the basement. I truly wanted to help. After last night, I wanted to do something nice for him.
His place is quite dull for the holidays, so why not lighten it from moody to cheery with decorations, bright colors, and twinkling lights? Sleepy Coldwater seems to go all out when it comes to Christmas.
Why did he seem so triggered?
And why is he going out there right now?
There’s wildlife everywhere out here. I’ve had more close calls in one hour than in my entire life. I’m hesitant to follow him outside because of the wolves, moose, and potential avalanches.
That’s why he stays armed in case anything happens.
What if the asshole that’s after me could still be here, lurking and waiting for another opportunity to kill me?
I know Gavin doesn’t believe me. Maybe he thinks I hit my head too hard and I’m making everything up.
I stand in the middle of the kitchen, tugging on the inside of my cheek with my teeth, going back and forth with myself. I watch the flames swirl in the fireplace, debating if I should head to Merelyn’s when my hair gets pulled back harshly.
Now he’s yanking my hair? How the hell did he get behind me so fast? I thought he went outside toward the back? How did I miss him? And why the hell is he pulling my hair?
I whirl around, getting ready to screech insults at Gavin, maybe even slap him across the face, but my mouth stays open when nothing but air greets me, my hand staying stiff as a rock by my side.
There’s nobody.
My pressed lips fall into a concerned frown. My blood runs cold when I realize I’m alone and that hellish sensation is back.
What the?
I physically felt someone’s fingers in my hair, their edges and shape of their flesh against mine—grazing my scalp right before a thick section of my hair was pulled.
With a pulsing heartbeat, my eyes widen as I search for Gavin, Merelyn, or even Georgia, but no one is here. A sinking sensation of dread and fear washes over me. Goosebumps light up my skin as I blink around the room slowly, investigating every corner for an explanation.
I know I felt someone’s hand on me.
I know I did.
I don’t think I’m alone.
And I don’t think a living person did this.
Was it the woman I saw in the bathroom after my first shower? Or was it that man I had nightmares of last night? The same one with blood all over his face in the kitchen cabinet’s reflection? Either way, I don’t want the answer.
Blood thrums in my ears as I swallow anxiously, and I pedal backwards slowly until I’m in the living room, just waiting for something to pop out. My eyes are glued to the walls, the windows, anything and everything, waiting for a figure to present itself.
Screw this. I don’t want to be alone when questionable things are happening in this cabin. I’ve never believed in ghosts. Sure, I love watching paranormal horror movies, but I’ve never had an experience to make me think spirits are real. I think I’m being haunted.
After my stay, I think I can say I’m a firm believer in the paranormal.
I guess I won’t get to eat the breakfast I’ve been cooking for the past hour.
I quickly swing on a coat I find on the coat rack. It’s thick, black, and goes all the way down past my knees, surprisingly fitting me enough to cling to my body. This must be Merelyn’s. I follow Gavin outside and track his footsteps in the snow. It leads me straight to him.
Easy.
I find him just in time before he disappears into the trees.
Tall and moody, walking with a signature distinct pace.
His massive shoulders sway with every strut.
He’s smoking a cigarette. With his two fingers, he flicks it until small pieces of ash soar into the air.
For someone who seems to smoke frequently, it doesn’t stain his home or clothes or follow him home, which is refreshing.
I don’t know why I try with Gavin, but I can recognize when someone is hurting.
I notice it in the way he can’t smile or laugh.
He’s someone with a story. A history that made him guarded, timid, abrasive, and tainted.
Someone who can’t seem to pull themselves out of the dark.
It’s the way I’ve been for the past few months, fighting to get out of my depression.
We have a lot in common that way, but how long has he been trying to get out of the dark?
“Why are you such a jerk?!” I blurt as soon as I’m in range for him to hear me complain.
Yikes.
I’m getting straight to the point, but after getting to know him, I don’t think he minds. He might even prefer it.
He stops moving. I don’t bother bringing up what just happened in the kitchen with my hair.
I don’t need to make him think I’m delusional, too.
He might kick me out of the cabin at this point if I keep bringing up the abnormal encounters.
I believe it’s best to keep this to myself for the remainder of my stay.
“I mean, look,” I palm my hips. “You said you want to start over, but every time I think we’re making progress as roommates, you push me away and leave. What? Are you going to disappear for three days again? Leave me alone in the cabin while you do God knows what?”
“Don’t talk to me as if I owe you something,” he snarls.
“I owe you nothing. You’re in my house,” he points to the cabin, “cooking my food, sleeping in my bed, putting up my mother’s decorations!
I’m sorry I gave you the wrong idea about me.
So let’s clear up my reputation so you don’t get the wrong idea.
” His Adam’s apple bobs. “I didn’t have to do anything for you that night, and I still don’t. ”
I rear back, feeling more unwelcome and like an inconvenience than ever before.
“Don’t be mistaken, sweetheart. I’m not a good man. I pulled you out of that wreckage because it was the right thing to do. I could have left you there.”
“Wow, my hero,” I spit slowly and sarcastically with a cruel bite to my words. I ignore the way heat crept into my cheeks when he called me sweetheart. How does he manage to be still so hot even when he’s being a grumpy asshole?
“I’m trying to be nice, but why do you make it so hard to get to know you?!”
“Maybe because I’m not worth getting to know. There’s nothing to get to know.”
His eyes narrow, and his cruel frown drops into something unreadable.
I rear back as I watch him curse to himself.
He rearranges his brown hat on the top of his head, lifting it into the air as he uses his fingers to rake through his hair.
It’s as though he let candor slip through the cracks of the wall he likes to hide behind.
“Maybe because I don’t know what to do with you when you look at and talk to me.
” His nostrils flare while puffs of air swirl out of his mouth every time he breathes.
“I don’t know what to do when you’re cooking in my kitchen, looking the way you do.
Or when you come out of my shower wearing my clothes.
You intimidate me. No one comes up here.
I’m not interesting—I’m dull. What you see is what you get. ”
I intimidate him? Me? There’s nothing to intimidate him with. He’s the one who makes me nervous with one glance. I hope the snowfall is masking my blush.
“Gavin.” I shake my head as I continue to soak his words in. I want to say a thousand things.
Don’t be intimidated by me.
You are anything but dull.
Why doesn’t anyone visit? Surely you have friends.
I knew he was lonely, but he doesn’t want to admit it.
I close the distance in seconds, climbing out of the feet of snow more easily than I thought. When I close in on him, I palm the tree he’s leaning on until I’m facing his stressed and remote expression, breathing in his minty, magnetic scent.
I hate how good he smells. I hate it because every time I hear his voice, look at him, smell him, it’s hard to force the fact that I’m still married out of my head.
I’m technically single, but it still doesn’t feel right to acknowledge the tension brewing between us. My attraction toward him guilts me.
“What is that supposed to mean?” I ask softly.
“It means…” He shakes his head and leans on one side of his hip.
“It means, why do you want to get to know me? You’re going to leave soon.
” His fingers lurch to my chin until he’s tipping it upwards.
I submissively let him direct my body as I stand.
“Talking leads to attachment. And attachment leads to disappointment.” He breathes against my lips teasingly, then pulls back with disdain written all over his face.
“That’s an awful way to look at things,” I counter.
“It’s the reality.”
“I think you’ve protected your peace a little too much in these mountains.” I huff. “Where are you going? Are you headed toward the same place you were hiding for three days?”
“You ask a lot of questions,” he grumbles. He takes another drag and blows the smoke over his shoulder, keeping his eyes trained on mine. His gaze falls shorty to my lips before he pulls away.
“I’m curious,” I point out. It’s not a lie. I want to get to know him even when he’s being hot and cold all the time.
“I have stuff to do today. I don’t have time for your inquisition.”
“Like what?” I lift a brow. “Where are you going? To make a snowman?”
He’s so serious all the time. He makes it so easy to get under his skin. It’s actually fun.
“Shed hunting.”
Out of all the things I thought he was going to say, that wasn’t one of them.
“Shed hunting? What is that?”
Gavin gives me a long sweep from head to toe before he concedes. He turns around and continues to saunter away, looking more relaxed than he did in the kitchen. I push off the tree and soldier into the snow until I’m right beside him.
“Slow down, I have little legs,” I complain as I try to match his fast pace. “My legs aren’t as long as yours.”