Chapter 23
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
AVERY
On a slow afternoon in early-December, I was working on the average occupation projections for next year.
Not my favorite part of the job, but something that needed to be done.
I was sitting in the parlor, curled up on the couch and poring over the numbers when I came across something that had managed to slip my notice in the couple months I’d been working at the resort.
Cottage Thirteen.
As I looked at the lack of data for that particular cottage, I realized I’d never once helped a guest who had stayed in it. Never scheduled a fishing excursion or an adventure tour. Never replaced a light or took a maintenance request or set up an anniversary stay inside it.
I scrolled back through the records, finding it was never available for booking. Not once, in as far back as this program went, which was six years. And yet it also never showed that it was occupied or that the resort received any revenue from it. It was like it didn’t even exist.
The mystery had sunk its claws into me, and I had to solve it. I started poking around the main inn for Aiden or Addison. Or anyone, really, who might know something about the elusive Cottage Thirteen.
Unfortunately, Addison was in the Bayside Room, filming one of the required interviews for the documentary, and Aiden had responded to my text asking where he was with a message that he was on the phone with his publisher and he’d be a bit.
Which meant I couldn’t ask the two people who’d know what was going on to help solve this mystery.
But now that I’d uncovered this, I wanted to get to the bottom of it, and I didn’t want to wait.
So, I did what anyone with a hyperfixation problem would do—I grabbed my coat and headed out to investigate myself.
I would’ve liked to say that my skin had hardened to the Maine weather in the time I’d been back home, but that would be a bald-faced lie.
Four years in Mississippi had ruined me.
I froze anytime I stepped foot outside, especially these past few weeks as the temps had dropped.
Today wasn’t any different, despite the fact that it was—according to the local weirdos anyway—a pretty nice day.
“Pretty nice” being mid-thirties, which wasn’t nice at all if you asked me.
I zipped my coat and pulled up my hood, uncaring if I looked like a waddling penguin as I made my way toward where Cottage Thirteen should be.
It didn’t take long to walk there, and sure enough, the small cabin sat right between Twelve and Fourteen, just as I’d assumed it would. It had the same exterior as all the rest—white siding, navy shutters, tiny evergreen trees bracketing the porch, and a welcome mat in front of the door.
It didn’t look abandoned or like something that shouldn’t be on the reservation site. It looked like someone had stayed there recently…was currently staying there, actually. But without any record or revenue coming in, were they supposed to be?
I climbed the porch steps, made my way to the front door, and knocked twice. My brows drew down as the door crept open, obviously not having been latched properly.
“Hello?” I called, my voice tentative but loud enough to carry to whoever was inside. “This is Avery from the front desk. Is anyone—”
My words cut off as the door inched open farther, and I got a better glimpse at the inside of the cottage…
and the man sprawled out on the floor in front of the couch.
Without a thought about how stupid this probably was—what kind of idiot barged into someplace with a strange man? —I rushed inside and straight for him.
He was maybe in his sixties…possibly seventies, if I went by his worn face alone.
But his hair was still dark, only a couple slivers of gray throughout the unkempt strands, and he had a scraggly beard that hadn’t seen a razor in what I would guess was years.
He looked worn-out and run-down, like he didn’t take care of himself.
Worse, like he was digging himself an early grave on purpose.
Once I was by his side, I dropped to my knees next to him, and that was when the odor nearly knocked me on my ass. I wrinkled my nose, the overwhelming stench of alcohol undeniable as it hit me like a wrecking ball.
Biting back a cough, I pressed my fingers against his neck to check for a pulse. But I was nearly positive this man—who we had absolutely no record of staying in this cottage and was more than likely a squatter in an unoccupied cabin—was just passed out and not dead.
“Sir, are you okay?”
The sound of my voice must’ve roused him because he groaned, his eyes blinking open with the kind of slow, uncoordinated movements that spoke of being wasted to the world.
And then before I could get any more words out, before I could tell him who I was and why I was there, he lashed out with a shout of surprise.
Flailing hard, he shoved me, sending me sprawling straight into a table. My head hit the corner, knocking off it hard enough that a burst of pain shot through my skull.
“Fuck,” I groaned, my head throbbing as stars danced in my vision.
“Who the hell are you?” the man yelled, his words slurring together even as he tried—and failed—to roll to his hands and knees in an effort to stand. “Get out! You don’t belong in here!”
That was the understatement of the century, and something I wished had come to me before I’d stepped foot in here.
Before I’d even walked this direction. Before I’d left the main inn without telling anyone where I was going.
Because Jesus Christ. Who the hell did I think I was, the first idiot killed off in a horror movie?
I needed to leave. Immediately. Needed to get out and find Aiden or Addison, but my head was throbbing, water was running into my eyes, and I couldn’t quite make sense of it all. I reached up to swipe it away, the liquid coating my fingers.
Only, when I pulled them away, holding them in front of my face, the wetness covering my hand wasn’t water.
It was blood.
Aiden
Juggling a secret publishing career was getting harder and harder every fucking day.
Especially with all the events my publisher wanted me to consider doing as Heat and Desire continued to outsell the rest of the list, as well as with book two’s release coming up.
The Frankfurt Book Fair was all I’d agreed to so far because they’d promised me no media coverage at the events I’d be doing and in the meetings I’d have.
And even then, the only way I was able to do it was because Avery was here to help shoulder my workload at the resort.
Part of me wondered if it was even necessary to keep a lid on this anymore, or if I should just come clean.
After the impromptu—and incredibly uncomfortable—book club discussion on Thanksgiving wherein everyone bragged about how much sex they were having thanks to my book, it had become blatantly obvious exactly how accepting my family would be about the secret life I’d been leading for years.
But they weren’t the ones I was worried about, and they hadn’t been for a while.
It was everyone else in the world who had my guard up, my instincts telling me to keep this whole thing under wraps.
I didn’t want the resort to go the way of Mabel and George’s newspaper—namely, a solid dip in revenue thanks to their being the current and continued focus of an amateur smear campaign run by a small handful of catty, puritanical residents of Starlight Cove.
Those kinds of people weren’t just in Starlight Cove, though, and I knew all too well the power of a viral video.
All it would take was one. The last thing the resort needed was someone picking up this story and making a not-so-amateur smear campaign about this small-town resort and the “pervert” who ran it.
As much as it sucked, the sad reality was that most people were too fucking judgmental.
And that went double for anything pertaining to sex.
Never mind that everyone was a product of it.
Never mind that they enjoyed the hell out of it.
It was only okay to do so if it was locked up and shoved under the bed, never to be spoken of in the light of day.
I truly didn’t know how much longer I’d be able to keep this from everyone, though.
After I’d agreed to attend the book fair, my publisher had been pushing for a book tour to launch Storm and Shadow, book two.
But if I did that, there’d be no more hiding behind a pen name and an innocuous author photo that didn’t give any clues to my identity.
The entire world would know exactly who A.M. Kinsey was. And exactly what he had to lose.
But I’d cross that bridge when I came to it.
Fortunately, my publisher had been appeased by my upcoming attendance at Frankfurt, but even that was playing with fire.
I’d had to make up a convention in California to justify my absence, and Addison only relented when Avery said she would handle things at the resort.
If she hadn’t been here to help, I didn’t know what I would’ve done. And she wouldn’t be here forever.
Hell, she wouldn’t even be here next month.
The thought sent a sharp stab of pain through my chest, a boulder falling into my stomach at the thought of her gone.
Out of my life, when it felt like she’d just come into it.
But it was one of those weird contradictions where it also felt like she’d always been here.
I couldn’t remember what life had been like before she’d come spinning into it, all sunshine and sass, and made me fall head over fucking heels for her.
Because, of course, she had. Of course, she’d be the one. Of course, I’d finally fall for someone I couldn’t keep.
But I’d known that going into it, so I shoved it aside, pushing the thought down deep. Just like I’d been doing for weeks. Months. We had this time together, and I refused to let the shadow of a future without her sour it.
Once I’d finished my call and looked around, not finding Avery in the inn, I pulled out my phone and thumbed to my last message with her when I’d told her the call might take a while.
Avery:
OK lmk how it went when you’re done.
Aiden:
Just finished. Where are you?
I’d just hit send on the message when the front door opened, bringing in a gust of cold air. I glanced up, the flash of Avery’s red hair in the entryway making a deep ache bloom in my chest, and I reached up in a vain attempt to rub it away.
Slipping my phone back into my pocket, I strode toward her. “Hey. I just sent you a text. Where were you?”
She didn’t answer. Didn’t even lift her eyes to look at me when I stepped into the entry. Instead, she stumbled, tripping over absolutely nothing, and braced a hand against the wall.
“Whoa, bunny. Are you—” My words cut off when she turned toward me, tipping her head up enough for me to see the blood running in a steady stream down the right side of her face. It was everywhere—smeared across her cheek, all the way to her chin, back into her hairline, dripping onto her coat.
My face blanched, my entire body going cold as I cupped her jaw, tipping her head back so I could see better. “Avery, what the fuck? What happened?”
She reached up, gripping my forearm as she shook her head. “It was my fault. He wasn’t expecting me, and I didn’t know anyone would be there.”
I stilled, my entire body running cold even as anger boiled hot and bright inside my chest. “What do you mean he? Someone did this to you?” I’d never felt this kind of rage in my life, but I was grateful for it. Because whoever did this? I was going to kill them. “Who the fuck was it?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t seen him before, but he was in Cottage…” She swallowed, her face paling as she slowly blinked up at me. “Aiden. I don’t feel so—”
At her words, she went limp, and I jerked to catch her just before she could fall, scooping her into my arms as her eyes fluttered closed.
“Addison!” I yelled, not caring who heard. Needing someone to. Needing everyone to. “Addi—”
“Jesus, Aiden, what?” she snapped, strolling in from the back of the house. “What’s so—” Her words cut off on a gasp as she rushed to my side, eyes frantic on Avery. “Oh my God! What happened?”
“I don’t know. Where’s Quinn? Is she at home?” I asked, my voice little more than a bark. Praying she was around because she’d be able to get here a hell of a lot faster than if we called for an ambulance.
“I think so.” Addison’s hands hovered above Avery, a rare moment of uncertainty from someone who was usually sure about everything.
“Call her.” I’d never been more grateful that our sister-in-law, the doctor of Starlight Cove, lived just a two-minute walk away. “Tell her to get her ass over here now.”