Chapter 4
HOLLY
The drive to the cabin after lunchtime is breathtaking. I can’t help drawing it out to enjoy the many scenic spots I pass on the way.
Some parts of the narrow switchbacks and steep icy roads are sketchy, though.
Despite the white-knuckling moments navigating the last section of the trip taking me an extra twenty minutes, I make it there in time to admire the stunning afternoon sunlight hitting the recent snowfall blanketing everything.
This is so worth it. I’m feeling much less apprehensive about leaving Leo with a detailed guide to cover the weekend shifts.
With an excited squeal, I hop out of the car and take about a million photos of the glittering winter beauty. My UGGs crunch through the fluffy snow as I explore the area around the driveway.
The view is incredible. I marvel at the sloping mountain range behind the cabin and the valley below from the rear of the wraparound porch.
It’s as if I’m in a giant snow globe, encased in magical serenity.
Layla hasn’t arrived yet, but she let me know the code for the key inside the lockbox and instructions for setting everything up.
It’s even better inside the cabin. I pause on the threshold and take it in with a content sigh. The charming rustic accents are so comforting. My fingertips brush over the old leather armchairs by the cast iron wood burning fireplace. I can’t wait to snuggle up by the fire with the book I brought.
This is going to be the best weekend. I’m so glad I finally listened to Layla. I really needed this.
I’m as enamored by the cozy atmosphere as I was when the Adlers invited me here in the past. Reminders of those summer and winter trips to the cabin with their family come rushing back.
I bite my lip around a smile when I think of the number of friendship bracelets I made with Layla with our feet dangling through the railing of the loft, swinging from a tire on a rope and swimming in the nearby lake with her brothers, chasing each other all through the surrounding woods.
A laugh escapes me when I recall how much I hated getting poison ivy during one trip when we were young.
Although, the only person who spent the rest of that trip by my side to make sure I didn’t scratch myself and helped me put on the ointment wasn’t my best friend…it was her older brother.
I pick up a framed photo of Caleb from a mantel hung above the wood stove, tracing his charismatic smile with my thumb. The sharp cut of his jaw has always been a contrast to his easygoing nature. Thick brown hair flops across his forehead and his green eyes strike a pang in my heart.
If I close my eyes, I can still easily picture his rich laughter. My teeth catch my lip as the memory shifts to sneaking out in his truck and the feeling of that laughter warm against my throat before he trailed kisses along my skin.
I had always nursed a hopeless crush on him.
Until one summer of flirting led to us crashing together passionately in secret, sneaking around late at night without telling anyone, swept up in the thrill of not getting caught together by Layla.
Every fiery, perfect stolen moment lives vividly in my mind to this day.
He’s not supposed to mean anything to me now.
It was an off-limits fling when we were young and impulsive, nothing more…no matter how much it stings to remind myself whenever I recall how much I liked his touch.
The frame clatters when I put it back on the shelf. My cheeks flush and I hurry back out into the chilly mountain air like my ass is on fire.
While I wait for Layla, I haul my bags inside along with the groceries I picked up. It begins to snow, light flurries at first that quickly turn to thick clumps that stick to my hair and clothes before I’m done. My UGGs will need to dry by the fire after getting so wet.
I’m slightly out of breath by the time I get the third one in. It’s full of baking supplies because I thought I might bake for myself for once—something I haven’t done in ages.
Perching on top of the suitcase, I survey what I brought. I might’ve overpacked out of eagerness for my first true vacation in—god, I’m not even sure how long.
“First things first…” Before I get too comfortable, I rise and prop my hands on my hips.
Where did Layla say the water main was again?
I read through the steps she sent from her dad to open the cabin for use, and circle the outside twice before I find the part I’m supposed to turn on to connect the water supply line.
With the steady snowfall, it’s easy to miss.
Mr. Adler’s process sounds easy enough to handle on my own.
I’ll have this place ready to go in no time.
Just to be sure I know what I’m doing, I decide to search online for a video to walk me through it.
As I open my web browser, an alert banner with hockey news pops up.
I flick it away with an annoyed huff without reading it.
I set it up for updates about Caleb because I’ve followed his career.
Maybe it’s silly of me. Unfortunately, some part of me has always been unable to ignore him.
I’m not in the mood to think about him for once.
I find a video with great visuals and figure out what to do. The buzz of success warms me from the inside. Thank you for always being my teacher in everything, internet.
The wood stockpiled in an open shed at the side of the cabin has enough stored for the weekend. Layla mentioned her dad wants us to chop more if we have the time to keep the supply replenished.
I eye the axe hanging from a hook curiously. I’ve never tried it, but it could be fun. The idea of swinging a sharp object around and splitting wood might be therapeutic. Throw in a little screaming and it sounds like a party. Until the nearest neighbor thinks I’m being murdered by a wild animal.
Grinning to myself, I grab an armful of wood and I head back inside to start a fire and warm up. The dampness in my soft woolen boots is seeping through to my socks, and I need to get them off before I have a sensory meltdown.
Several attempts later, I’m struggling and getting nowhere.
I thought starting the wood stove would be the easy part. I’m a baker, I deal with heat all the time. Yet all the kindling I try snuffs out before the logs catch fire. The best I manage is making them smoke.
“Okay, why can’t I get this?” I fold my arms and frown at the ancient cast iron fireplace, parking my butt on the floor to think.
It always seemed easy when Layla’s parents or brothers got a fire going. So what am I doing wrong?
When in doubt, to the web. I won’t fail.
I’m going to conquer this and stoke a fire so cozy I doze off reading because I’ll be too damn comfy.
Pursing my lips, I give a sharp nod of determination. I’m resourceful. There’s nothing I can’t figure out on my own when I put my mind to it.
My brows knit in confusion when my search takes forever. I realize why once I see the error symbol in the top corner of my phone screen. The cell service is much spottier than it was when I arrived. I can’t get the internet to load at all.
“Oh, really?” I groan. “Why now?”
I scramble to my feet to see if I can find a signal, only to slump face first over the arm of the couch in defeat. It’s time to regroup and make a yummy snack so I can think better. At least using the oven will provide some warmth in the chilled cabin.
I change out of my jeans and pull on some extra layers, shrugging into a chunky knit cardigan with fuzzy pastel baubles. While I’m unpacking my baking supplies on the kitchen counter, I peer out the window.
It’s snowing even harder than it was before, and visibility is dwindling with the fading light. I grab my phone and call Layla to check in with her when I have bars in that spot.
“Hey,” she answers on the second ring, sounding frazzled. “I’ve been trying to call you. Did you make it to the cabin?”
“Yeah, I got in a little over an hour ago,” I say.
“Oh good.” She sighs with relief. “I was worried about you on those tight roads.”
“They’re a bitch to maneuver, but I did it. It’s snowing here. Cell service is getting spotty. I guess it’s because it’s really coming down out there now.”
“I know. It’s snowing everywhere,” she replies. “There’s a huge storm system moving in that’s colliding with the nor’easter coming up the coastline. The news is calling it the blizzard of the decade.”
I pause my organization of mulling spices. “Didn’t they call the back to back super snowstorms last year the blizzard of the decade?”
“This one’s going to set even bigger snowfall records,” she says.
I glance out the window, trying to make out the view I admired earlier.
I can barely see past the hot tub on the porch to the stone fire pit in the yard.
My thoughts stray to the intense weather all over that continues to set unprecedented records as our planet warms. Extreme snowstorms, devastating flooding, unbelievably powerful hurricanes, and the threat of tornadoes all wreaking havoc.
“So where are you right now? Did you have to stop at a hotel for the night?” I ask.
“Worse, I never made it out of town,” she answers miserably. “I’m sorry. Dad called me and told me not to drive anywhere.”
“You’re not on the road, so that makes me feel better.”
Disappointment lingers. It’s not her fault, but the unexpected change in plans rouses my anxiety. Looks like I’ll be spending the weekend by myself.
“What about you? This is so not how I wanted our girls’ weekend to go. I feel awful.”
“I know. But maybe if the storm passes quickly, you’ll still make it up here,” I suggest hopefully.
“I’ll be there in a heartbeat. You’d better send me regular updates. Promise me you’ll stay put and relax, okay?” Layla prompts.
“I’m bummed you aren’t here, but I’ll still make the best of my solo retreat,” I swear with a smile. “In fact, I’m already on it. I’m going to make mulled wine and I brought books to read.”
“Oh, I almost forgot to tell you. You won’t be totally alone.”
My grin falls. “What? Why?”
“Because—”
The line dips in and out, garbling her voice. Then the call drops. I frown at my phone and set it aside with a sigh. Maybe she meant that the neighbor who owns the farm nearby will be around if I want some company.
Before I decide what to whip up, a rustling sounds at the side of the cabin. I freeze, listening carefully. It moves onto the porch.
“A bear?” I whisper in disbelief. “What the fuck? Shouldn’t they be hibernating?”
It can’t get in, right?
Something heavy scrapes the floorboards on the porch. Shit. I wish I still had Layla on the phone, at the very least for some moral support.
I grab the closest thing I have—a rolling pin and the bowl to my standing mixer—to make enough noise to scare it off.
“Okay, it’s chill. You’re fine. You can do this.”
Taking a breath to strengthen my courage, I peek through the door. With the heavy snowfall and how dark it is now, it’s hard to make out the bulky shape edging closer. It’s halfway to the door.
Oh, hell. It’s now or never.
Opening the door a crack, I shriek as loud as I can and clang the rolling pin against the metal bowl.
The shape startles with a very human bellow.
He almost loses his footing, clutching a duffel bag strap. It’s not a bear attack after all.
The relief is short lived when I realize if it’s not a wild animal, I’m dealing with a man alone in the mountains with no one else around for miles.
Is he a burglar? A murder? An escaped convict? I don’t even know if there’s a prison around here, but my freaked out mind splinters in countless directions, running through the potential ways men are dangerous in wooded settings.
This creep isn’t getting me.
Adrenaline surges through me. Steeling my frazzled nerves, I do the only thing I can think of, acting before he has the chance to do anything to me first.
Heart pounding, I bolt forward and take a swing at him with my rolling pin.
The intruder chokes back a surprised noise at my attack, muttering a confused curse. His reflexes are sharp enough to catch my wrist to stop me from whacking him over the head. He’s much stronger than me, causing me to freak out even more.
“No!” I struggle, making a fist to jab him.
“Just—I’m not—Stop,” he grumbles in exasperation while wrangling me before I get a hit in. Best I manage is elbowing his gut, earning a satisfying grunt. “I’m not here to hurt you.”
Wait—I recognize that voice.
My scrappy retaliation ceases, chest heaving raggedly as I drag my apprehensive gaze to meet familiar green eyes, a handsome chiseled jaw, and unruly thick brown hair I used to love running my fingers through.
“No. No fucking way.” The raw whisper slips out of me before I check my inside thoughts.
My heartbeat quickens again, racing so fast I fear I might pass out from shock. He’s no burglar…he’s Layla’s brother.
The star hockey player in the NHL I grew up with. The one man I never wanted to see again after he broke my heart.
“Caleb?” I yelp. “What the hell are you doing here?”