Chapter Nine
Cindy
The second Daniel’s truck disappears down the hill, something in me wilts. It’s like he took the oxygen with him, and now I’m standing here gasping for breath in a place that suddenly feels too small, too quiet, too wrong.
I don’t want to be here.
The tightness creeps back into my chest as Lenny gestures toward the door. “Come on in. You must be hungry.”
I hesitate. My feet feel rooted to the gravel, like my whole body knows what my brain hasn’t caught up to yet. That this was a mistake. The minute I walk through that door, I’m not walking into comfort or closure; I’m walking back into the very thing I ran from.
But I force myself to move.
Because Daniel said he’d find me later, and I believe him.
It’s the only reason I don’t bolt.
Inside, the cabin smells like fresh coffee and pine cleaner, like someone tried way too hard to make it feel normal. Homey. The curtains are drawn open, light pouring in, like truth can’t hide here.
But it does. It hides just fine.
Because the first thing I see when I turn the corner into the living room is him. Lyle. Sitting on the couch with a smug smirk.
Every drop of blood drains from my face, a chill of terror shooting up my spine.
“You said he was gone,” I whisper, spinning toward my mother.
Her expression is tight, sheepish. “He was. But he wanted to talk. We all think it’s important to clear the air—”
“You lied to me,” I cut in, my voice coming out in a shrill whisper.
“Cindy, please—”
“No! You said he left. You promised me!”
“He wants to apologize,” Lenny cuts in, in a patronizingly calm voice like he’s offering a peace treaty. “We thought it might be good to sit down. Talk it out.”
Talk it out?
Like this is a family meeting?
Like I imagined everything that happened in the woods?
Lyle stands slowly. “Hey, Cin. Can we just—”
“Don’t you speak to me.” I step back so fast I nearly stumble. My whole body is trembling now. That sticky, horrible feeling from yesterday rushes up again, coating me in panic. My skin crawls. I can’t breathe.
“Cindy,” my mom says, holding out a hand like she expects me to come closer. “Sweetheart, I know you’ve been overwhelmed lately. A lot has happened and I understand how overwhelmed you are right now. Maybe you misread—”
I let out a sound, something between a laugh and a sob. “You think I made it up?” I whisper. “You think I imagined him cornering me? Touching me inappropriately and chasing me in the woods?”
Lyle’s face tightens. “Jesus, Cindy. I didn’t do any of that.”
I gasp, my chest tightening painfully at his blatant lie. “You did. You said you’ve been thinking about doing stuff to me and—and that I shouldn’t make this harder than it had to be. You called me a piece of shit and chased after me till I fell and hurt myself.”
Lenny rubs a hand over his face. “Maybe it didn’t happen exactly that way—”
“Oh my God.”
My hands are shaking. My whole body is trembling now. I wrap my arms around myself like that might hold me together, but I can feel it…everything breaking loose inside me.
The betrayal burns hotter than anything else.
From Lenny, I expected this. But from my own mother?
“I trusted you,” I whisper to her. “I came back because you said he wasn’t here. Because you said I’d be safe.”
Her mouth opens and closes. “We thought…if you just heard him out—”
“You thought you could gaslight me into pretending it didn’t happen.”
“Sweetheart—”
“Don’t call me that.” My voice is sharper now, brittle like glass on the edge of shattering. “You don’t get to call me that after choosing to believe a stranger over your own daughter.”
“I never touched her,” Lyle says flatly. “Not like that. She’s confused. It was a weird moment, sure, but she’s blowing it way out of proportion.”
“Look, Cindy,” Mom says, taking a cautious step toward me. “Lyle is your brother. He would never hurt you intentionally.”
“We’re your family, Cin,” Lenny adds just as I catch Lyle’s subtle smirk.
I stare at him. At all of them.
And something inside me snaps.
“No,” I breathe, my voice shaking, tears blurring my vision. “No. I’m done.”
I turn on my heel and storm toward the front door. My mother calls my name behind me, but I don’t stop. I shove the door open, and it slams shut behind me with a bang that echoes through the quiet trees.
I don’t wait.
I run.
I don’t know where I’m going. I don’t care. My feet hit the gravel drive hard, then grass, then soft earth as I veer into the woods behind the Airbnb. I hear Lenny shouting for me, the rumble of an engine, my mother’s frantic voice calling my name, but they all fade into the distance.
I run faster. Tears sting my eyes, making it hard to see, but I don’t stop.
I can’t stop.
I just need to get away.
My chest is heaving, my legs aching, my breath catching in sobs I can’t swallow down. The woods close in around me, shadows thickening under the trees as clouds roll in overhead. Wind gusts through the branches above, stirring the leaves and sending a chill down my spine.
It’s going to rain. I know it in my bones. I should go back, but I can’t bring myself to.
My foot catches on something and I gasp, thrown forward, the ground dropping out from beneath me.
I tumble down a steep embankment, my arms flailing, branches scratching at my skin as I slide through the wet leaves.
My scream gets caught in my throat as I land hard at the bottom, my body twisting awkwardly.
Pain explodes through my ankle. Sharp and immediate and blinding.
“Ahh!” I cry out, clutching at my foot. I immediately realize that my previous injury was nothing but a scratch. This is different. My ankle’s already swelling beneath my fingers, the pain so intense it makes my vision blur.
I try to stand, but the moment I put weight on it, a blinding pain shoots through my leg and I collapse again with a sob.
I’m stuck.
Oh God, I’m stuck.
The sky grumbles overhead, and the wind whips harder, cold now cutting through my thin shirt like a knife. I huddle against a large rock, shivering as I pull my knees to my chest, but the pain is too much to stay still.
I pull my phone out of my pocket and groan when I see that it’s completely dead after not charging it overnight. I can’t even call for help. I’m really all alone.
And no one knows where I am.
Tears streak down my face, hot in the icy wind, and I curl tighter around myself, trying to breathe through the pain and the panic and the echo of Lyle’s voice still bouncing around my skull.
I’m so stupid. I never should have gone back.
The people I trusted tried to convince me that my trauma wasn’t real. That he didn’t do anything wrong. That I imagined it all.
They brought him back. Sat him in that living room like he was the one who needed comforting.
And now here I am, hurting again. Alone again. Lost again.
Only one thought shines through the darkness like a beacon.
Daniel .
I see his face in my mind. The way he looked at me like I matter, like he would burn the world down to keep me safe. The way he held me this morning, like I’m something precious. The way his voice got all low and deadly when he told them to stay the hell away from me.
He believed me.
He always did.
And right now…I need him more than I’ve ever needed anyone.
“Daniel,” I whisper, tears choking my voice. “Please find me.”
The sky opens up, and the rain begins to fall. And I wait, curled into the wet earth, heart aching and hope flickering.
Hoping he’ll come. Hoping he’ll hear me, even from miles away.
Because he’s not just my lover.
He’s my guardian angel.