Chapter 23
AMELIA
The drive to Vermont would be almost fifteen hours. Fifteen hours alone in a car with Caiden. We hadn’t spoken about our time in the bed together in the basement. It was only innocent cuddling, but it broke a barrier between us.
Returning to Pathosbury to bury my mother’s corpse filled me with a deep unease, having to be reminded of my childhood and her drug addicted days.
I considered canceling the trip, pretending illness, anything to avoid dealing with my grief. But Mom deserved a proper goodbye, even if that goodbye meant facing the ghosts of Pathosbury and Caiden’s presence.
After seven years apart, I'd hoped to see her again someday. I never imagined my return would be because of her death; it was surreal.
“I hope you two have a safe trip. I’m so proud of you, Amelia, for having the strength to go back. I know how hard this is.” Sabrina gave me a hug while we stood on her driveway.
“Thank you, Sabrina. I do hope the drive goes well despite the far distance.”
Just thinking about the long car ride gave me anxiety. Sitting and dwelling in the cramped tension of the car.
"I know, but at least you'll have company," she exclaimed, nodding toward Caiden, who was talking to Shane near the car.
“Oh joy.”
After saying goodbye to Sabrina, I walked towards the car with my bags.
“Ready?” Caiden asked, giving me a glance.
“Yep. Like I said, we’ll need to stop by my house first.”
He nodded, opening the passenger door for me. The scent of vanilla air freshener hit me as I settled into the leather seat.
Fifteen hours.
Fifteen hours to confront not just my mother's memory, but the fractured pieces of my own past. The engine hummed, and we pulled away from Sabrina’s house, leaving behind the comforting normalcy of her presence and heading towards the unsettling familiarity of Pathosbury.
He waited in the car while I ran inside my house to take out some of my beach-specific clothes, replacing them with more suitable clothes for Pathosbury. I grabbed a few more essentials, as well as a few books and snacks, then headed back out.
He pulled out of the driveway, onto the road, beginning our journey.
The interstate blurred into a two-lane road, a ribbon of asphalt under a sky that shifted from pale morning blue to a hazy midday afternoon grey. Hours had passed. Silence brewed between us.
The sky loomed like an abyssal beast, a dark blanket swallowing rays of the sun. I could feel the anxiety creeping in, tightening my chest. I glanced at Caiden, who kept his eyes fixed on the road, a shadow of concentration etched across his features.
I could feel his gaze often, glancing at me as if he expected me to snap, or cry, or jump out of the car.
“Do you think it will rain?” I asked, breaking the silence.
“Looks like it,” he replied, his voice steady. “Just a storm passing through.”
Great. Just what I needed, a storm to match the turmoil inside me.
The clouds thickened as we drove on, and soon the first drops of rain began to splatter against the windshield, a soft patter that quickly turned into a furious drumroll. The wind picked up, pushing against the car as if urging us to turn back.
“Maybe we should pull over,” I suggested, unease creeping into my voice.
“It’ll be fine, I’ve driven in worse conditions,” he said, trying to sound calm, but I could hear the tension in his voice too.
A flash of lightning illuminated the sky, followed by a deafening crack of thunder that sent a jolt through me. The rain intensified, pouring down in sheets, and suddenly, the road became a dangerous surface.
Whenever Caiden and I were together, there was a storm. At this point, I was not sure if it was the universe bringing us together or if it was a bad omen.
The rain smeared the world gray, the landscape dissolving into washed-out streaks that matched the hollow ache in my chest. I pressed my hands together, feeling the bones of my knuckles grind, as if I could squeeze out the pain.
My mother’s face flickered behind my eyelids: the slur in her smile, the way she’d clutch my wrist and whisper apologies for being who she was.
When I looked sideways, Caiden’s jaw was set, scar on his eyebrow catching the watery light. His hands were steady on the wheel, but there was a tightness to his shoulders I hadn’t seen since high school, when he’d grind his teeth during detention, refusing to let anyone see him unravel.
His hair was slightly longer now, boyishly tousled and carelessly cut, but his profile was the same: the narrow nose, brow furrowed under the weight of his own ghosts.
He caught me watching. “You okay?” he asked, not taking his eyes off the streaming road.
“Fine,” I lied, pulling the word tight. “Just tired.”
He nodded, but his hand hovered near the console, as if unsure whether to turn up the heat or the music, or to touch me. There were things we’d never said, and things we could never take back.
The wind buffeted the car, and he leaned into it, knuckles whitening. “You hungry? There’s a rest stop coming up.”
“Not really.” My stomach was a knot of hunger and dread.
“You seem nervous.”
“About the storm?” I didn’t move, watching the water chase itself down the pane. “Or about seeing my mother’s face in a casket?”
He didn’t answer. He let the silence roll back in, dense as the clouds outside.
It was always like this with us. An invisible cord, taut and humming, threatening to snap or strangle.
I could sense him watching me, not with the scrutiny of a lover, but the wary attention of someone who’s handled wild animals before and knows better than to let their guard down. I should have hated him for that.
“I had a dream last night,” I blurted. “My mom was alive. She was asking me to make her pancakes.” The edge of my voice surprised me.
He adjusted his grip on the wheel. “Did you?”
I nodded. “Yes. I made her pancakes, but something was wrong. When I set the plate down, her face became distorted and grim. She threw the plate aside and lunged for me in a terrifying way. I screamed, then woke up.”
He nodded slowly, taking in my words.
Instead of responding, he let my confession float in the air, knowing that it was best to not force me to talk more in depth about it.
Another couple of hours passed, and it began raining harder.
Thunder roared throughout the air.
“Caiden!” I shouted as the car hit a deep puddle, hydroplaning.
He gripped the steering wheel; muscles tense as he fought to regain control. “Hold on!”
The tires squealed, the car skidding sideways before he managed to steer it back on course. Heart racing, I braced myself against the door, a whirlwind of panic and frustration swirling within me.
“Damn it!” he growled, his voice laced with frustration. “This is not happening.”
And then it did. A loud pop echoed, followed by a violent jerk as the car veered off the road, finally coming to a stop against a muddy embankment.
The headlights died as a tree branch scraped against the roof.
Panic clawed at my flesh.
“Are you okay?” Caiden asked, his voice suddenly urgent as he turned to me, concern replacing the anger that had briefly flared.
“I think so,” I replied, my heart pounding in my ears. I couldn’t believe this was happening. “What the hell just happened?”
“Flat tire,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair, frustration radiating off him. “We need to get out and check.”
I nodded, but the thought of stepping into that storm made my stomach churn. With a deep breath, I unbuckled my seatbelt and swung the door open, rain instantly soaking me to the bone.
“Stay close,” Caiden ordered, his voice firm as he stepped out beside me.
We stumbled around to the back of the car, the rain pouring down in torrents. The wind whipped at my hair, and I felt the chill seep into my bones.
“Great,” I muttered, looking at the flat tire. “Now what?”
“We’ll have to walk to that exit up ahead,” he gestured through the downpour. “There’s a motel a few miles down the road. We can wait it out there until the storm passes.”
“Are you serious?” I glared at him. “In this weather?”
“Yes.” His tone brooked no argument. “It’s either that or we sit here and wait for someone to pass by, and who knows how long that could take with how isolated this road has been.”
I hated the idea, but I also knew he was right. The rain was relentless, and sitting in the car wouldn’t do either of us any good.
“Fine,” I said, my resolve hardening.
I was relieved that Caiden and I had packed a jacket. We yanked it from our backpack, bracing ourselves for the inferno of rain outside.
We slogged through the storm; sheets of water soaked me in an instant, blurring the world into a cold, swirling mess of grey. The wind roared so fiercely that our voices died before they left our throats.
Yet I felt Caiden’s presence like a lifeline, a steady pull on my sleeve guiding me forward when every instinct screamed to turn back.
Each drop of rain stung my skin like angry bees, and the road ahead vanished under torrents that turned asphalt into a gleaming hazard.
My boots sank into the mud with each step, the squelch beneath me echoing the sense that my life, too, was stuck in this endless downpour. I swallowed and tried to ignore the familiar panic rising in my chest.
Branches whipped at my face. Shadows darted at the edge of the forest, bringing back memories of that dreadful night in Colorado: how Caiden and I had been lost, terrified, trapped under a sky that seemed bent on our destruction, and how we’d nearly become prey to that madman.
The memory landed like an ice pick through my ribs.
I felt the urge to run, to tear free of the past clawing at me. Caiden’s hand closed around mine, fingers digging in with that trademark firmness that always spoke of possessiveness. His voice rose above the storm.
“We’re almost there.”
I blinked through the rain, trying to trust him, though the spectral terror of that other storm clawed at the edges of my mind. Thunder boomed. My heart leapt. I flinched.
Then I thought I saw him—Blake—leaning at the tree line, eyes empty and smiling like death itself. I tightened my grip on Caiden’s hand, and he gave my fingers a half-pressure squeeze, as if he could feel the feverish tremble running up my arm.
“Amelia?” He shouted, scanning the road. Concern flickered across his features; it always frightened me how tightly he read my moods. “You okay?”
I swallowed so hard my throat hurt. “I—yeah,” I lied, forcing my steps forward. But the shadows kept reaching for me, whispering that I deserved to remember everything.
Then, headlights cut through the gale. A car eased to a stop beside us. An older woman leaned from the window, her features kind but edged with worry. “Need a lift?” she hollered.
Caiden hesitated, eyes flicking to me. I saw that silent debate: protect us by refusing or save us by accepting. I gave a curt nod, my teeth chattering.
With a stiff nod, he moved aside, gesturing me in first. Relief flooded me as I tumbled into the dry warmth of the passenger seat. Caiden was right behind me, settling in with that straight-backed posture that reminded me he was always on guard.
“Where are you two headed?” the woman asked once she was back on the road.
“To the motel up ahead,” Caiden answered. His voice was calm, clipped. “Flat tire, nothing serious.”
The driver smiled. “Wandering Willow Inn? Quirky place. Owner’s kind.”
I forced a smile at the word quirky. Odd was my silent hallmark. Odd places hid darkness. Caiden’s hand brushed mine, and I felt a surge of gratitude from him that made me flush.
Moments later, we pulled up to the motel, its flickering sign draped in the rain. The place looked more ghostly than lodging, and cold terror crept up my spine as I followed Caiden out.
Inside, the lobby smelled of mildew and old wood. The innkeeper, a stooped woman with eyes that glinted, greeted us. “Welcome, dear. Been a while since we had visitors in a storm. Dry off here.” Her shelves held dusty trinkets: a raven figurine, dried herbs in jars, dolls with glassy stares.
Caiden stepped close behind me. I could feel the heat from his body, could almost hear the unspoken message: I’ve got you.
I drew in a shaky breath.
She offered towels and a set of clothes. The fabric smelled of must and bygone travelers. I accepted them, wondering whose memories clung to the seams.
After Caiden handled the payment with a polite nod, the innkeeper directed us down a narrow corridor lit by dim sconces. Our footsteps died in the hush.
He paused at a door with two faded twin beds inside. I stayed near the entrance as Caiden peeked in first, still half in sentinel mode. “Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked, voice low.
I aimed for calm. “I’m fine. It’s just…this place.”
He frowned, stepping back to brush a strand of rain-soaked hair from my face. His gaze softened. “It’s only one night. Storm’ll pass.”
I nodded, though my pulse thundered in my ears. Caiden handed me a towel and the spare clothes. “Let’s change,” he said, stepping toward the adjoining bathroom. His shoulders were square, his tone gentle but firm, as though saying, don’t fall apart.
Inside that cramped room, I peeled off my wet layers, feeling every shiver. The clothes were itchy against my skin, but I forced them on, scrubbed at my face until it felt like something new. When I emerged, Caiden was leaning against the doorframe, arms folded, watching me.
He caught my eye. “Better?”
I nodded slowly. “Yeah.” My voice sounded thin, but he gave me one of those partial smiles that meant he believed me, and with that, I exhaled a fraction of the panic.
He reached out and touched my arm—possessive, caring—an anchor point in a storm. I leaned into him as we left the room for the lobby sitting area. Maybe hot cocoa would calm the ghosts.
He held the door for me, his form rigid like he’d never let me slip away again. And for now, that was enough.