Chapter 37 Carl
CARL
The blurry photograph burns in my mind as I watch Trisha pace her small cabin like a caged animal.
Her dark hair catches the lamplight with each agitated turn, and I can see the fear she’s trying so hard to hide behind that stubborn facade of hers.
The image wasn’t clear enough to identify faces, but anyone who knows us would recognize my silver hair and her distinctive dark waves.
Someone was watching us last night. Someone was close enough to capture our most intimate moment.
“This is insane,” she mutters, wrapping her arms around herself. “Who would do this? And why?”
Ash sits forward on the small couch, his jaw tight with barely contained anger. “Someone must have a helluva grudge.”
“But that doesn’t make sense,” Trisha protests, finally stopping her pacing to face us. “I don’t have enemies. I’m nobody special. I just do PR work.”
The vulnerability in her voice makes my chest tighten.
She has no idea how special she is, how she’s turned our entire world upside down in the best possible way.
But right now, that specialness has made her a target, and every protective instinct I have is screaming.
“You’re not nobody,” I say firmly, standing up from the chair. “And whoever is doing this clearly disagrees with your assessment.”
“We’re not leaving you alone tonight,” Ash declares, his tone brooking no argument. “All three of us are staying.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Trisha says, but I can hear the relief underneath her protest. “There’s barely room for me and Becky in this cabin, let alone four adults.”
“We’ll make it work,” Jake says, flashing that charming smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Besides, it’s Christmas. We should be together.”
The mention of Christmas seems to snap Trisha out of her fear-induced spiral. Her eyes widen with guilt. “Oh god. I promised Becky we’d spend Christmas together. She’s probably wondering where I am.”
“I’ll get both girls,” I offer immediately. “Krystal’s been asking about Becky anyway, and they should be together for Christmas.”
Trisha’s expression softens, and she looks at me with such gratitude that it makes my heart skip. “You’d do that? But it’s your Christmas too.”
“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be,” I tell her honestly, and I see the way her cheeks flush at my words.
An hour later, I’m returning with two excited little girls in tow.
Krystal’s red hair is wild from sleep, but her green eyes are bright with anticipation.
Becky bounces beside her, chattering about Santa and presents, her dark curls dancing with each animated gesture.
“Mommy!” Becky launches herself at Trisha the moment we walk through the door. “Santa got Krystal the same book for Christmas too!”
“He must know you’re best of friends, sweetheart,” Trisha says, scooping her daughter up and spinning her around. The joy on her face chases away the lingering shadows of fear, and I find myself smiling despite everything.
Krystal hangs back shyly until Trisha notices her. “And there’s my other favorite girl,” she says warmly, opening her free arm to include my granddaughter in the embrace. “Merry Christmas, Krystal.”
The next few hours pass in a blur of cookie baking, delighted squeals, and Christmas carols.
Jake proves surprisingly good with children, getting down on the floor to help them build Becky’s building blocks set.
Ash, despite his usual stoic demeanor, patiently braids Krystal’s hair while she shows him her new books.
And Trisha, watching her with the girls, seeing her laugh and smile, makes me fall for her even harder.
“Grandpa Carl, will you sing the reindeer song?” Krystal asks, climbing onto my lap with her new stuffed animal.
“Only if everyone joins in,” I say, catching Trisha’s eye. She’s sitting cross-legged on the floor, Becky curled against her side, and the domestic scene makes my chest tight with longing.
We sing “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer” with exaggerated voices that make the girls giggle uncontrollably.
Jake does an impressive impression of Santa’s “Ho ho ho,” while Ash surprises us all by knowing every word to “Jingle Bells.” Trisha’s voice is sweet and clear, and when she catches me watching her, she blushes prettily.
As evening approaches, both girls start to yawn despite their protests that they’re not tired. “Can we go back to the babysitter’s?” Becky asks. “Krystal and I want to have a sleepover.”
“Are you sure, baby?” Trisha asks, smoothing her daughter’s hair. “It’s Christmas.”
“But we already had Christmas,” Becky says with five-year-old logic. “And Krystal and I have books we need to read together.”
After getting the girls settled back at the babysitter’s cabin, we return to Trisha’s.
The festive atmosphere from earlier has faded, replaced by the tension of our situation.
Trisha immediately starts cleaning up the dishes, her movements sharp and agitated.
“You don’t have to stay,” she says without looking at us. “I’ll be fine. There haven’t been any actual threats, just…weird pictures and pranks.”
“Pranks?” Ash’s voice is dangerously low, and he takes the mixing bowl, spoon, and measuring cups from her and starts washing them. “Someone is stalking you, Trisha. Taking pictures of you in private moments. That’s not a prank.”
“He’s right,” Jake adds, moving to help her gather the baking trays. “This person knows where you are, when you’re alone, what you’re doing. That’s not harmless.”
I watch her shoulders tense, see the way her hands shake slightly as she places the remaining cookies in a Ziplock bag. “I just…I don’t understand why anyone would target me. I haven’t done anything wrong.”
“This isn’t about you doing something wrong,” I say gently, moving closer to her. “Sometimes people fixate on others for reasons that have nothing to do with logic or fairness.”
She looks up at me then, those dark blue eyes swimming with unshed tears. “I’m scared,” she whispers, the admission seeming to cost her.
“We know,” Ash says softly, drying the bowl and spoon. “That’s why we’re not leaving.”
“But there’s only one bed,” she protests weakly.
Jake grins, some of his usual playfulness returning. “Good thing we’re all friends.”
Despite everything, Trisha laughs. “You’re impossible.”
“That’s what makes me charming,” he replies with a wink.
Later, after we’ve all cleaned up and fell into bed with Trisha once more, we find ourselves breathing hard in the afterglow of sex and exhausted.
It’s ridiculously cramped on the queen-sized mattress. Jake’s long legs hang off the end, and Ash has to curl on his side to fit, but none of us complain.
Trisha is safely nestled between us, her head on my shoulder, Jake’s arm draped protectively across her waist, and Ash’s hand resting on her hip.
“This is crazy,” she murmurs, but she’s relaxing against us, her breathing starting to even out.
“Crazy good or crazy bad?” Jake asks, his voice already drowsy.
“Just crazy,” she replies, but I can hear the smile in her voice.
I stroke her hair gently, feeling the silky strands slip through my fingers. “Try to sleep, Trisha. We’ve got you.”
“All of us,” Ash adds quietly, his thumb tracing small circles on her hip through the thin fabric of her pajamas.
She sighs contentedly, and I feel some of the tension leave her body. “Thank you,” she whispers. “For everything. For staying, for getting the girls, for…for caring.”
“Always,” I murmur against her hair, breathing in her sweet scent.
As the others drift off to sleep, I remain awake, listening to the soft sounds of their breathing, feeling the warmth of Trisha’s body against mine.
Someone out there wants to hurt her, to frighten her, and the thought makes my blood boil.
But right now, she’s safe.
Right now, she’s surrounded by people who would do anything to protect her.
I must have dozed eventually, because I wake to pale morning light filtering through the cabin’s small windows.
Trisha is still curled against my side, her face peaceful in sleep. Jake has somehow managed to wrap himself around both of us, one arm flung across Trisha’s back, his hand resting on my chest.
Ash is pressed against Trisha’s other side, his face buried in her hair.
Carefully, I extract myself from the tangle of limbs and pad quietly to the kitchen.
The coffee maker is ancient but still works, and soon the rich aroma fills the small space.
I move to the window to check the weather, and my breath catches.
Snow. Everywhere.
The world outside has been transformed into a winter wonderland, with drifts piled high against the cabin walls and more still falling steadily from the gray sky.
The road—what I can see of it—is completely impassable.
We’re snowed in.