Chapter 2
I t's okay. It's all going to be all right.
I climb back up to the main floor of the house repeating that reassuring mantra in my mind, but it does little to set my jangling nerves at ease.
Darkness is falling fast. Up here on the mountain, the power goes on and off at random.
It could be up again in a couple of minutes, or I could be sitting here for days.
At least we have contingencies.
As I make my way to the generator, I call the power company on the phone to report the outage, for what little good that will do. There are only a handful of families living on Lonely Peak, so we're pretty literally their last priority.
By the time I get outside, a light, frigid rain has started up. I pull the hood of my jacket over my head and hold it up against the heavy wind as I dart toward the shed. My father made sure the generator had plenty of fuel, so I go ahead and get it fired up.
Only.
Nothing.
Despair claws at my chest. I mean, I'll be okay without power for a little while. We have plenty of firewood and candles, but my growing sense of dread about being out here in the wild alone is crowding out my rational thoughts.
I try again and then again. I swear my father tested this the other day, but something must be wrong. I troubleshoot the best I can, but I was a dummy and forgot to bring a flashlight, and the light on my cell phone is only doing so much.
Okay, breathe.
I dart back to the house to get a light and maybe an Idiot's Guide to Home Repair. I find the former if not the latter. I'm going to have to make do. I put my hand on the doorknob and look out through the glass to find the sky nearly black, the rain pouring down in sheets.
Only then the darkness breaks. Bright light pierces through.
Headlights.
Irrational panic makes my breathing speed. There aren't many serial killers living on the mountain—or at least I don't think there are. It's too soon for the power company to be here, though, which leaves…
"Cayden?" The name escapes my lips before I've really thought it through. Huge surges inside me, making my lungs expand. A little of the panicked haze clears.
Because I'd know that bright blue pickup truck anywhere .
Back when I lived here for real, we were both too young to drive.
This pickup was his daddy's. He'd come to pick us up from school sometimes, and Cayden and I would ride in the bed, laughing and tumbling around as the truck climbed the twisty mountain roads.
It's a wonder we didn't manage to get ourselves killed, but man, we had a time.
When Cayden's father passed, it only made sense that he would have inherited his truck. Every time I've been back here to visit Grandma, I spotted the truck around town or saw it parked at the head of the Tucker place's driveway. I saw it in a corner of the lot at the funeral home last week.
And now it's here, pulling up in front of my grandmother's old, abandoned, darkened house, and in my entire life, I've never had a sight fill me with more pure relief.
Right up until the moment the truck shuts off and the cabin lights come on.
Right. Because of course Cayden wouldn't come to rescue me alone. He had to bring his asshole best friend, Jax.
Back in middle school, the two of them were practically inseparable, and I never in my entire life understood why.
While Cayden was kind and soft-spoken, Jax was brash and abrasive.
He put up with me when Cayden was around, but whenever the nice boy from next door was out of sight, Jax would pull out this sneering face that always made me feel small and pathetic—and maybe I was.
After skipping a grade in elementary school, I was always the youngest one around.
Dweeby and awkward and more interested in classic painters than the latest country pop stars, but really—did Jax have to throw it in my face all the time?
The open, soaring part of my heart shuts down. I step through the door as the two of them dart through the rain. Holding up my lit flashlight, I greet them with a probably-too-defensive, "What are you two doing here?"
My resolve is tested as they step into the torch's glow.
They're soaked through. Cayden's sandy hair glistens with water, and the T-shirt he's wearing underneath his leather jacket is plastered to his muscular chest. Jax is just as wet.
He slicks his long, black hair from his face.
His dark eyes gleam in the harsh light. Somehow, he doesn't even have to say a word and I can feel his judgment.
It makes me feel self-conscious and self-aware in a way I never really am around anyone else. Naked.
Warmth pools in my blood.
These guys have always been unfairly handsome, but right now they look like they just stepped off a runway.
You know, if male models doubled as lumberjacks, that is.
Jax licks his lips. Something in his gaze goes predatory, and for a second I have this shocking awareness of how vulnerable I am right now.
I'm all alone in the middle of nowhere. If I screamed, no one would hear me.
Only I'm not entirely sure I would scream.
I've had a crush on Cayden forever, and as much of a jerk as Jax can be, I can't pretend he isn't hot.
His teasing has always had this undercurrent I haven't quite been able to name, a tension that's drawn me to him even as the words coming out of his mouth have pushed me away.
If either of them made a move right now, what would I do? Scream and fight?
Or invite them to stay?
I clench down deep inside, empty, a low hum of arousal kindling low in my belly. I shudder, only it turns into a shiver.
Just like that, I remember where I am and what's going on. I'm standing here under the slight cover of the porch at my grandmother's ramshackle house while darkness falls and icy rain pours down. I have no electricity and the generator is on the fritz.
And I'm thinking about sex.
Jeez, it's been too long. I haven't had a relationship in over a year. My last breakup left me too scarred to try again so soon. And while I'm not opposed to the occasional casual fling, random hookups aren't really my style. But clearly, my dry spell is starting to affect my thinking.
I blink a couple of times, shaking my head as if that will help to clear it. Then I pose my question again. "What are you doing here?"
Cayden takes another step closer. Rain drips down the bridge of his nose. "Haley…"
He starts to reach out, then stops himself. There's no explanation for the way my body wants to sway toward him, into that stolen promise of a touch.
Fortunately, Jax interjects. "We saw your daddy's car."
Even that he manages to say with a sneer.
"So?"
"So," Cayden says, shooting Jax a nasty look. "We were worried."
Jeez, does no one on this mountain think I can take care of myself? I mean, all evidence available at this moment kind of supports them, but they could cut me a tiny bit of slack.
I bristle. "Well, you don't have to. I'm fine."
Terrified and abandoned and cold and probably about to die, but fine.
"You shouldn't be alone out here," Jax rumbles.
"Is that a threat?" It feels like one. So why does it excite me, making my nipples tighten and my pussy throb?
"It's an offer." This time Cayden actually does reach out.
His hand connects with mine. It's the most glancing of touches, but the warm brush of skin on skin sends tingles racing through me.
Cayden feels like safety and home. It's almost enough to make me forget that Jax feels like danger and grit, or that I'm supposed to be pretending that I'm fine, living up here on the mountain alone.
Almost.
I pull my hand away. "You don't need to…"
"Haley, come on—"
"Don't be an idiot," Jax says.
Cayden looks like he might actually punch him in the face. Sadly, he restrains himself. I would have paid to see that.
"Don't be a martyr," Cayden corrects him. "Look, if you really want to stay out here alone, just say the word and we'll go." He tilts his head to the side, his tone going conspiratorial. "But I know this place always used to creep you out."
I swallow hard. He isn't supposed to remember that kind of stuff. Hell, I barely remember it myself.
My father and I moved here after we lost my mother. I was six and hurting, and I loved my grandmother, but I hated her house. I hated this mountain. When we left a few years later, I missed my grandmother. I missed Cayden and his soft smiles. But I was happy to see this place in my rearview mirror.
The whole time I've been here taking care of my grandmother through her final days, I've pushed my disquiet aside. Since she passed, there's been too much going on for me to dwell on the creaking floorboards or rattling shingles. The cobwebs and the fogged up windows and dust.
If watching my father drive away wasn't enough to remind me, Cayden's words sure are. I shiver, and it's not because of the cold.
Maybe he sees my hesitation.
"We saw your father's car heading down the mountain, and I just…worried. Then when the power went out..." He casts a backward glance at Jax. "I know when he said it, it sounded dickish, but we really are worried. This place isn't safe, and you shouldn't be alone. Not after everything."
"I'm fine," I lie, but his piercing blue eyes see right through it.
"Just—come stay with us, won't you? We have plenty of room. The guys won't bother you." He points his thumb to Jax. "Not even this guy."
My eyes mist, because the offer is so welcome. I don't want to stay here. I want to follow Cayden to warmth and safety, and when he says he'll protect me from his own best friend, my chest glows. I believe him.
"But…"
"No buts. We've got dinner going and a fire burning." And it shouldn't be possible. He's rough and rugged, with a thick beard and a hardness to him that screams of the literal war he's been through. But his eyes go soft. "Don't make me worry about you tonight, Haley. Please."
He holds his hand out.
The world narrows down to this man, wet with rain, gorgeous and safe, asking me to let him whisk me off to a place that's warm and dry. My reservations crumble in a heap.
What else can I do?
I place my palm in his.