Chapter 35 Phoenix
PHOENIX
The morning light filters through the cabin windows, soft and pale after days of storm clouds. Jade is still asleep, curled on her side with her dark hair spilled across the pillow, her face peaceful in a way it hasn't been since she hung up with her mother yesterday.
I stand in the kitchen doorway and watch her breathe.
She cried for hours last night. Not dramatic sobbing, just a quiet, steady leak of tears that soaked through my shirt while I held her. Her mother's words had cut deep, and even though Jade didn't tell Sydney who I was, the confrontation had rattled her.
I wanted to fix everything for her. I want to show her mom that I’m not the villain that she thinks I am, but some battles aren’t mine to fight. This is between Jade and her mother, and all I can do is be here when she needs me.
The fridge is nearly empty. We've been here longer than I planned, and the blizzard wiped out any chance of restocking sooner. I take inventory of what's left: a few eggs, some cheese that's seen better days, half a loaf of bread, and a nearly empty carton of milk.
I pull on my jacket and boots quietly, trying not to wake her, but she stirs anyway. Her eyes flutter open.
"Where are you going?" Her voice is rough with exhaustion.
"Into town." I cross to the bed and sit on the edge, brushing hair from her face. "We're out of food. I'll be back in a few hours."
She pushes herself up on one elbow. "I'll come with you."
"No." I press a gentle hand to her shoulder, easing her back down. "You're exhausted. You barely slept last night. Stay here, rest. I'll bring back everything we need."
"Phoenix—"
"I mean it." I lean down and kiss her forehead. "A few hours. That's all. When I get back, I'll make you a real breakfast. Pancakes. Bacon. Whatever you want."
She studies my face for a long moment, her eyes flickering with worry. I know that the conversation with her mom is still heavy on her mind.
"Okay," she finally says. "But hurry back."
"I will."
I kiss her again, slower this time, savoring the softness of her lips and the warmth of her body.
"What?" I ask when I pull away.
"Nothing." She shakes her head slightly. "Just... be careful."
"Always."
I force myself to stand, to walk toward the door, even though everything inside of me is telling me to climb back into that bed and never leave. At the threshold, I pause and look back at her.
"Lock the door behind me."
She nods. "I will."
I step outside into the cold morning air.
The snow has stopped, finally, leaving behind a world buried in white.
The road down the mountain will be rough but passable.
I checked it yesterday, and the plows have made some progress.
It'll take about an hour to get to the nearest town with a decent grocery store.
Two hours, round trip. Maybe three if the roads are worse than I expect.
She'll be fine.
I climb into the car and start the engine, letting it warm up while I scrape snow and ice from the outside. When I get a good amount off, I wave goodbye to her and pull out of the clearing and onto the windy mountain road.
The drive is slow, treacherous in places where the plows haven't reached. I navigate carefully, my mind going back to Jade, to the conversation we need to have about what comes next. The cabin was always temporary. Sooner or later, we have to return to the real world.
But the real world has Marcus in it. And angry investors. And a deal I torpedoed for reasons I can't fully explain.
I push the thoughts aside and focus on the road.
By the time I reach town, almost ninety minutes have passed. The main street is quiet, just a few locals digging out their cars and salting their sidewalks. I pull into the parking lot of a small grocery store and head inside.
The store is warm, fluorescent-lit, blissfully normal. I grab a cart and move through the aisles on autopilot, tossing in everything we need. Eggs. Bacon. Milk. Bread. Coffee. Pasta. Sauce. Some vegetables that look reasonably fresh and fruit. A few bottles of wine.
I pause in the bakery section and add a box of her favorite pastries—the almond croissants she mentioned loving. It’s a small thing, but I want to see her smile when I hand them to her.
The checkout line moves slowly. An elderly woman in front of me counts out exact change for her groceries while the teenage cashier waits with barely concealed impatience.
Later, when I load the bags into the car and slide behind the wheel, I reach for my phone to check the time.
That's when I see it.
I've had no signal for days, but here in town, the bars have flickered back to life. The screen is lit up with a cascade of notifications. Missed calls. Voicemails. Text messages.
Most of them are from my father.
A cold weight settles in my stomach as I scroll through the messages.
Call me immediately.
Phoenix, where are you?
This is urgent. Call me.
I tap on the voicemail icon and lift the phone to my ear.
My father's voice is tense, controlled in that way that means he's barely holding back panic.
"Phoenix. I've been trying to reach you for two days. Marcus is very angry. He came to the office yesterday, demanding answers. He asked if you were at the cabin. I don’t know how he knows about it. He didn’t sound stable, son. I've heard things. Just... call me back. And be careful."
The message ends.
My blood turns to ice.
I think about all the times I mentioned this place to him over the years. It wasn't a secret. I'd invited him up here once or twice for weekend trips when we were still in business school together.
I dial Jade’s number. It rings once, twice, three times. Then nothing. The call drops.
No signal. I was hoping I could get through but if her phone isn’t in the right place in the cabin, it wouldn’t get the signal.
I try again. Still nothing.
"Fuck." I slam my palm against the steering wheel. “Fuck!"
I tear out of the parking lot, tires sliding on the icy pavement.
The drive back takes twice as long as it should. I push the car as far as I can, but the roads are slick with ice and the last thing I need is to end up in a ditch.
I try calling Jade a few times, but the signal dies about a mile out of town and stays dead. I try my father, hoping he can send someone, but the calls won't connect.
My mind keeps spinning. She’s probably fine, but I shouldn’t have left her alone.
The road stretches endlessly ahead of me, white and winding and impossibly long. I can’t get there soon enough.