Chapter 5
LUCY
“I’m in the bathtub,” I say out loud toward my phone.
“Mm.” Grandma’s voice comes through the phone propped on the wooden tray near the tub. “And?”
“I’m in love and am moving in here now. If anyone needs me, my new address is this tub.”
She laughs. “I fought the plumber for that tub, you know. He said copper was a nightmare, and I said he had to make it happen because it was for my granddaughter.”
“You didn’t even know I was coming back to the lodge.” I slide deeper until the water laps my chin, steam fogging the window above the taps.
“Pfft, I always knew you would, love, eventually. And I hope to be home soon. I’m so tired of sitting in this bed and being beeped at.
They won’t release me until the scans show the bones knitting, and now my blood sugar’s decided to run high on top of it all, so I’m on tablets for that too and back under supervision. ”
“It’ll be okay.” I stretch one leg out of the water and rest my heel on the copper rim, watching steam curl off my knee as if I’m something served hot.
Through the fogged glass, the ridgeline is turning gold at its edges as the afternoon comes in.
“And until then, you take it easy and let them fuss. Watch those hospital dramas we used to watch on TV.”
She giggles. “It really is nice to have you home, Lucy. I know it’s been hard for you to come back here, but I’m glad you did. I missed you terribly.”
“It feels different here now, Grandma. I can’t explain it. Maybe it’s the change you made or that I’ve been away too long, but I stood on that balcony today, and it wasn’t as if I was drowning, but more like being home again.”
“Oh, love, that makes me so happy to hear, as I was worried about you when you just left.” I blink back tears, and I adore how much she loves me.
“Now, while I’ve got you, it would be a great help if you could please pitch in with the three boys out at the far cabin, the ones doing their service.
Meal preparation, changing linens over, that sort of thing.
Part of the agreement when I took their placement was that we’d provide motel-style services while they clear the land and help around the property.
Ethan’s been doing it all himself, and he could use the help. ”
“Yeah, of course,” I say.
“And once I’m home,” she continues, “I’ll get you properly trained on the rest of the business. The bookings, the accounts, all of it. Really help me run the place. How does that sound?”
“Amazing.” I won’t let her down.
“Lucy…” Grandma hesitates, and something in her voice tightens my stomach. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“The man you met at the bar… are you absolutely certain it was Roman?”
I frown, even if she can’t see me. “What do you mean? He introduced himself as Roman.”
Grandma goes quiet for a moment. “I just got off the phone with Roman, and he said he didn’t make it to the bar in time. By the time he arrived, you were already gone, so he rushed into the woods to look for you. He thought you’d started walking to the lodge alone.”
My fingers tighten around the phone. “No…” I whisper. “He knew your name. He had the red bandanna, exactly like you said. He told me he was supposed to take me to the lodge.”
“Oh, sweetheart…” Grandma sighs heavily. “I really don’t know, but I think it was someone else.”
Yesterday flashes through my mind in pieces while coldness sinks through me because who the hell was that man?
“Roman told me he finally found you and rushed to get you free from the stranger.”
“Oh, the guy with those eyes. That was the real Roman?”
“Yes, dear. He told me he saw someone trying to drag you deeper into the forest.” She pauses. “He said instinct took over. He didn’t stop to think and just went after him to protect you.”
“Oh… shit.” The words barely leave my mouth.
“But don’t worry about it for now,” Grandma says, her voice softening. “Just stay there at the lodge where you’re safe, okay? We have security cameras. I’ll make some calls and see if anyone knows who that man was or what he wanted with you.”
My mind refuses to slow down. Was he just some creep who’d overheard Eve’s conversation and realized he’d found an easy way to lure a woman into the woods?
“It sounded like he really knew you,” I say quietly.
Grandma exhales. “He must’ve known something about me, but this is a small town, love. Plenty of people know me. That doesn’t necessarily mean I know them.”
There’s a bustle on her end, and she exhales loudly. “Oh, here they come. They’re doing their tests again, love, so I have to go. Third round today. I’m going to start charging them.”
“Grandma. They only want to take care of you.”
“They want my blood. I’m very popular here.” But she’s laughing as she says it. “Enjoy the lodge, sweetheart, and please stay safe, but don’t worry. When I’m back home, we’ll work it out. Ethan and the three men promised to keep you safe. So, light the fires and keep warm. I love you.”
“Love you more. Bye.”
The phone goes dark on the bath tray, and I draw in a long, shaky breath before sliding beneath the water, letting the silence swallow me whole. I stay there until my lungs begin to ache, forcing me back to the surface.
I break through with a gasp and stare at the ceiling, my thoughts racing faster than I can make sense of them.
What did that man want with me? The question keeps circling.
Looking back now, he’d given me the creeps almost from the moment we’d met, but I had ignored the little voice telling me that something wasn’t right.
A shiver rolls through me despite the steaming bath as the truth finally settles. If Roman hadn’t found us when he did, what would have happened if the stranger had gotten really aggressive?
For all my frustration over being bitten by a complete stranger, I can’t ignore what really occurred. Roman hadn’t attacked me out of malice. The bite might have been accidental, but everything else he’d done had been to save me. And he took me to the hospital, which makes so much sense now.
I sink a little lower into the water and let out a slow breath. I still wasn’t thrilled about the bite, but one thing was becoming painfully clear… I owed Roman a lot more than a thank-you.
By the time I climb out, my fingers have gone full prune, and the window is one solid sheet of fog.
I towel off in the lantern light, pad into the bedroom, and dig my red dress out of the backpack, the casual knee-length one with long sleeves, made from soft cotton, the dress equivalent of a good mood.
Dress, sneakers, hair brushed back, and then the unglamorous part—sitting on the edge of the bed to change the bandage on my hand.
The bite underneath is healing faster than anything I’ve ever done to myself, the punctures already closed over.
My stomach picks that peaceful moment to growl like a chainsaw. Time to head downstairs to see what I find in the kitchen. Grandma has turned it into less of a kitchen and more of a cathedral with a huge range oven.
The ceiling climbs into dark beams, and the whole far wall is glass, with the pines standing so close and so tall on the other side that cooking in here must feel like cooking in the middle of the forest. Stone walls the color of honey and ash.
Two long islands topped in granite that ripples like river water, iron chandeliers hanging above them on chains, a range with eight burners, and a fireplace at the far end with a worn red runner leading toward it like the room has an aisle.
“Grandma,” I breathe, to nobody, “you have outdone yourself.”
There’s no sign of Ethan, so I glide through the kitchen. “Okay, gorgeous,” I say, rolling up my sleeves. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”
The pantry nearly finishes me off. It’s a walk-in, shelved floor to ceiling, and it’s fully stocked. I break off a block of milk chocolate and eat it right there, surrounded by the smell of butter and cinnamon and spices.
Cookies. Thick, gooey, chocolate chip, the kind Grandma and I used to pull out of the old oven on rainy days, and I’m reaching for the flour before I’ve finished the thought.
I preheat the oven and start creaming the butter and sugar until fluffy. I fold in the eggs, vanilla, and flour. Then an extra helping of chocolate chips. In no time, I’m scooping fat balls of cookie dough onto two trays, sliding both into the oven, and setting the timer for fifteen minutes.
Which leaves me and this cathedral alone together, so obviously I snoop.
I go through the enormous fridge: cheeses, cream, and eggs, herbs standing in a glass of water like flowers.
I open the freezer and find enough meat to survive a winter siege to match the pantry’s.
Grandma and I cooked our way through my whole childhood in the old version of this room, and she used to say that baking is just love with a timer on it, and I used to roll my eyes at her.
But now, I’ll remember it forever anyway.
The buzzer goes off, and I take out the cookies. They’re perfect, thick and golden at the edges, chocolate still molten, and the whole room fills with the smell of them. I slide them onto a cooling rack, then clean the kitchen.
I help myself to one, and the moan that purrs from my throat is slightly indecent. “Oh, my God. Still got it.”
I take two more, because I earned them, and wander out the side door into the last of the afternoon daylight.
The sun is lying low along the ridge, pouring long amber light between the trunks. The air has picked up a crisp edge, so I lower my rolled-up sleeves. Perfect walking weather, and I’m crossing the clearing toward a gap in the tree line I’d recognize in my sleep.
The track is narrower than I remember, ferns crowding the edges, but the path itself has survived. I used to run this path every summer day of my childhood, down to the creek to lie on my belly on the flat rock and watch the tadpoles wriggle in the shallows. I used to name them.