Chapter 37
Amber
The following night settles over the cabin like a heavy blanket, pressing in on all sides.
The wind snakes through the pines outside, carrying a restless whisper that makes me feel like the forest knows more than it should.
The fire’s just a low glow now, the heat not quite enough to push back the chill that’s crept into the room—or into Bas.
He’s right beside me on the worn couch, but it feels like he’s miles away. His arm is still around me, but loose now, not that solid grounding hold he had earlier. I glance up at him in the flickering light. His jaw is tight, eyes shadowed, carrying a weight he hasn’t let me see all the way.
“Bas,” I say softly, breaking the quiet before it swallows me whole. “You’re pulling away again. What’s going on in that head of yours?”
He shifts forward, elbows on his knees, eyes on the floor. His hands are clasped so tightly I can see the strain in his knuckles. When he finally speaks, his voice is rough, like the words scrape on the way out.
“Last night… the dream came back. Marieke. She was there, like she’d never been gone. I could almost touch her.”
I slide my hand into his, feel the tension buzzing under his skin. “I’m so sorry,” I whisper, because what else do you say when the ghost of someone’s past love has come to visit them?
He exhales, long and uneven, dragging a hand through his hair. “It’s not just missing her. It’s this guilt… it sticks to me, no matter what I do. Every time I close my eyes, it’s like I’m right back there—losing her all over again. And now… I’m terrified that’ll happen with you.”
My chest aches. I squeeze his hand, hard, as if I can press the fear out of him. “You won’t lose me. Not unless you let the fear win.”
His eyes finally find mine, and for a second, I see him—the man who’s both solid and breakable at once. “I want to believe that,” he says, voice quiet. “I’m trying. God, I’m fighting like hell for this… for you. But sometimes it’s like the past gets its hands around my throat and won’t let go.”
I rest my head against his shoulder, feel his breath moving through him. “You don’t have to fight it alone,” I tell him. “You can lean on me. I can take the weight.”
His arm tightens, and for a few moments, it feels like maybe we’ve pushed the shadows back. But then—footsteps crunch outside in the snow.
Bas is up before I can breathe, gun in hand, every muscle locked. “Stay close,” he says, low and sharp.
I follow, my pulse hammering so loud I’m sure whoever’s out there can hear it. We peer through the window. The trees stand tall and dark, snow drifting between them, nothing moving.
“They’re testing us,” he mutters. “Seeing if we’ll crack.”
“What do we do?” I ask, swallowing the taste of panic.
“We move. Now. There’s a cabin farther north, near the far edge of Nordmarka. It’s quiet. After that…” His jaw works. “After that, we’ll have to count on your dad and his club.”
The fire fades to embers, leaving the room in shadow. I close my eyes for a second, breathing in the scent of him—sandalwood, leather, and something I’d know anywhere—and let it anchor me.
The next morning, the road north stretches on in silence. Snow softens the edges of the world, but the tension in the van is all hard lines. Every so often, I glance at him, and he’s staring out at nothing, somewhere far away in his head.
I reach across the seat and take his hand. He doesn’t let go. “Tell me about Abel,” I say quietly.
His thumb brushes over my knuckles. “He’s my favourite person in the world. He tells the worst knock-knock jokes you’ve ever heard, then laughs at them so hard he can’t breathe. Doesn’t matter if they’re not funny—he makes me laugh every time.”
My lips lift, small but real. “He sounds amazing. You’ve done a good job raising him, Bas.”
“I didn’t do it alone. My sister, my parents—they’ve been there since day one.” His voice dips. “I miss him every day. I just want to be the kind of dad he’s proud of. And… the kind of man you’d be proud to have.”
“You already are,” I tell him. “More than enough.”
We fall quiet again, the snow wrapping us in a strange, fragile bubble.
When we finally reach the cabin, it’s small and plain, but the warmth hits me the second we step inside. There’s a note from Bas’s friend telling us to make ourselves at home. For the first time in days, I almost believe we’re safe.
We cook something simple, eat at the little wooden table. We laugh over a slow game of cards, and for a while, I forget the world outside exists. But later, when the fire dies and the night presses in, I see the weight settle back onto him.
He’s lying beside me, staring at the ceiling. I reach for his hand in the dark. “I’m not going anywhere,” I whisper. “But you have to want this. You have to want me.”
He turns to me, his fingertips tracing my cheek like I’m something breakable. “I want you, my God, I want you,” he says, voice raw. “I just… I’m terrified.”
I lean into him, my voice steady even if my heart isn’t. “Then we’ll face it. Together.”