CHAPTER SEVEN
A modest two-ish story house sat isolated from neighbors inside its own pocket of privacy.
The “two-ish” aspect counted the unfinished attic, unlike most Midwestern houses, where the third level would be a basement due to the concentration of severe thunderstorms. We weren’t exactly in Tornado Alley, but we weren’t in the nosebleed section either.
Not having safety from the storm made our house a rebel, one that liked to live on the edge.
A veritable mountain range of various-sized eaves rose to frame several large windows, giving the pistachio-colored facade dimension and an air of playful whimsy that matched the wild nature that accompanied houses set so far out in the woods.
Hunter parked the Jeep on the basin of gravel that allowed us to maneuver to and from the long, shaded driveway. The silence pressed on us, making the cabin feel oppressive, doubly so when he killed the engine.
A movement of shade darkened my window as Ralph stooped to peer in, then he popped the door open. His full lips pulled down at the corners as he noted the tension. “Getting started without us?”
“No.” Hunter didn’t elaborate. After one more extended stare, he climbed out, pocketing the keys.
My keys.
My eyes rounded in realization. “Hey, wait!” I scrambled to climb out, having to dodge around Ralph’s unbudging, amused form. “Those are—”
Something shiny flew my way over the roof of the cab, and I flinched, hearing a neat jingle and a metallic snick near my face. My vision cleared to see a tan hand hovering in a closed grasp inches away. Light blond hairs stood out above the tan.
Kolton, with his sports fast reflexes, had caught the keys Hunter tossed. “Ha-ha, here you go, Wordsmith. You’re welcome.”
“Thank you,” I gritted out, shooting a watered-down glare Hunter’s way. It fell flat in the grand scheme of things. I’d ghosted them after a close mutual friend died and I almost died, and now I wanted to get upset that he’d tossed the keys at my face?
Look at me here, without a leg to stand on.
“Well, this is fun,” Kolton quipped, breaking the extended silence. He started for the porch, hopping up the steps with ease. “Is your dad home?”
Without waiting for a reply, he opened the front door and walked right in.
My brain processed everything that could go wrong with the inquisitive, boundaries optional blond unsupervised with my dad, and suddenly, I went from dragging to jogging. Apparently, running interference between embarrassing childhood stories trumped the dreadful funeral march feeling.
Did I know what I was going to tell the guys?
Not a clue.
Did I still need to hurry inside before my dad could use my feared nickname?
Willy.
I shuddered.
Most definitely.
Ralph and Hunter followed closely behind.
Inside, the sweet, homey smells of warm yeast bread beckoned us to come in and stay a while.
My dad, the enigma.
Dad ran a successful business selling… well, himself. His off-roading vlog earned enough money that he’d always been the stay-at-home parent and constant presence in our life, not our mom. She preferred to stay away.
Those thoughts spun through my mind. My parents’ argument from this morning had left an imprint that now echoed with a stark reminder.
I tossed my backpack aside before beelining for the kitchen.
The floor plan was open concept, with a kitchen along the back half of the house, separated from the living room and dining room only by the oversized island rather than anything so concrete as separate flooring or walls.
Kolton had already made himself comfortable at the island, leaning forward on his elbows, and was engaged in conversation with my dad, who was slicing homemade bread to go with what smelled like a pot of savory stew.
Dad did it all. He fixed cars, spoke and wrote with the best of them—on and off camera—and cooked.
The last one he’d picked up out of necessity, since he’d discovered early on that the trick to bribing my younger self to work the camera for him was cookies—lemon blueberry cookies, to be exact.
“Willa,” Dad greeted warmly, looking more like his old self than he had since my coma. His gaze shifted behind me. “Ah, and Ralph and Hunter, if I remember right.”
His thoughts showed on his face—at least to me, they did. He thought everything was getting back to normal. I was in school one day and already had company over.
My heart wrenched with guilt. Mom and Dad had been fighting a lot over everything that’d happened and whether it’d been okay to ship me off to the loony bin.
To my parents, I’d landed myself in a coma by way of a freak accident where I’d slipped and busted my face.
If they knew the truth, that I’d been targeted…
I worried it’d be the end of their relationship.
Mom was in the boat of thought to ship me away and avoid the police pressing charges. My sneaking out also steered her toward wanting me to get professional help, but Dad had disagreed. He’d said I’d be better off at home with family.
It was all a big, tangled mess. I couldn’t be too mad at Mom though. How was she supposed to comprehend all the craziness in my life? Still, I couldn’t forget how quickly she’d caved to the pressure without getting any input from her family.
“Hello, Mr. Walker,” Ralph greeted, while Hunter might have given some nonverbal nod.
“Oh, please,” Dad said with an easy laugh, even though the gesture wasn’t as calming as he might have hoped, considering he’d also waved around a serrated bread knife the size of my forearm while doing so. “Call me Rob.”
Ralph gave an uneasy laugh, and even Kolton leaned away in his chair.
Hunter, unfazed, cleared his throat. “We saw Willa at school today and wanted to come over and talk.”
Dad’s smile dimmed a fraction. “Ah, I bet you four have a bit to catch up on.”
They’d all been friends with Ben too.
His missing company shadowed us, even now.
“I’m glad you understand.”
Steering the conversation to a lighter note, Dad snapped his fingers. “Let me get a plate of snacks for you. I’m sure Willa’s dying for some food after a long day at school, and I’d bet my bottom dollar that you boys could put away some grub.”
I winced in embarrassment for… so many reasons, but my overly sensitive feelings were soon mollified by the mountain of food he bundled up for us.
“Be good, kids,” he called.
Hunter led the way, aiming for the stairs, reminding me that it wasn’t their first time in my home. In fact, the last time they’d all been here collectively was…
My throat clogged, and I put my hand on Hunter’s arm. We couldn’t go upstairs. It’d just make me think about the group sleepover. I nodded to the kitchen door instead when Hunter glanced my way in question.
He allowed me to pass him and followed instead. Kolton and Ralph brought up the rear. Three little ducklings, following their mom, except these ducklings could pin me in a second flat, even Kolton.
I tried not to feel intimidated, but I failed. Then, thinking about the reason we were together, my nerves shifted gears, cranking up even higher.
“Where are we going?” Kolton asked when I led them past the tree line and into the woods, following the four-wheeler trail.
I didn’t realize it until he’d pointed it out, but my tumultuous subconscious had sought somewhere safe. “Oh, there’s an old tree house out here. I thought we could find some privacy, since Nick and I share a room.”
Kolton swore. He’d gotten tangled up in a patch of briars when he’d made a move to pass Ralph and Hunter and walk beside me.
“Oh, be careful.” I helped untangle his shirt sleeve, while Kolton did the same to his jeans. “It always amazes me how quickly nature tries to revert to its true form. Only a couple of months have passed since I’ve been out here on this trail, and...”
I stopped talking, choosing instead to focus on my work. Kolton’s spearmint breath fanned over me. Out here, his eyes seemed greener, since they tended to change color to reflect his surroundings.
“Is it much farther?” Ralph asked, looking amused at Kolton’s misfortune.
“About five minutes, but, you know, I haven’t been inside it in years. We don’t have to go to it. It might not even be there anymore. It’s off the trail enough that you can’t see it or drive to it.” The more I spoke, the more my inner voice screamed out what an idiot I was.
Even if the tree house was still there, it wasn’t like three full-grown men could squeeze inside.
“Actually, change of plans. We can just talk here. Hunter will need to go soon—”
“No, no, Wordsmith,” Kolton interrupted. “You had me at tree house. You can’t drop a gem like that, all sparkly and shit, and scoop it back up like a greedy fucking goblin.”
Hunter and Ralph offered no help, which meant their inner child must have perked up in curiosity too.
I sighed. “Okay, well, just… watch where you’re walking. The rest of the way is through the woods, and if we have to keep freeing you from briars, it’ll take all evening.”
“Damn, Wordsmith. Call me the fuck out, why don’t you?”
“If she hadn’t, I would have,” Hunter growled. “You’re like an overexcited puppy.”
They squabbled as I took the lead once more, guiding them somewhat uncertainly. I hadn’t been kidding when I remarked how quickly the forest changed.
At one point, I thought I’d gotten us lost, but then thirty seconds later, I spotted a familiar circle of trees. “Not much farther,” I stated.
“So,” Hunter began, “I’m surprised you are okay with driving on your own, considering you still have a stalker on the loose.”
My tennis shoes slid on an unexpected rock hiding beneath a blanket of dried leaves. The ankle would have been next to take the fall if Ralph hadn’t been close enough to steady me. “Stalker?”
“Yeah, the one that cut your brake line.”
I kept walking, not running, but definitely prolonging a face-to-face discussion.