Chapter 3 Caleb
THREE
CALEB
Ican’t ignore the feeling that something isn’t right.
It’s like a firm pressure in my chest, a hard lump that won’t go away.
I’ve never enjoyed these dumb trips, but I can’t bring myself to even want to participate.
I just let the rich city jerks fish and drink and talk shit as much as they want.
The only reason I’m here is to make sure they don’t die or go missing on the mountain.
But as soon as the weather changes? I get them the hell out of there and myself on the road.
It was hard enough leaving when my fight with Winnie had been so fresh in my mind. It’s another to know my sister probably still went behind my back and did the very thing I asked her not to.
And honestly, I wouldn’t blame her. Winnie wants to help people.
It’s her greatest strength. She cares deeply for all those around her, and I know she yearns to have more.
A family, love, whatever. Her heart is big enough for it all.
And although I know she doesn’t want to intentionally piss me off or go against my wishes, she will if it means helping someone if they need it more.
Which is why I have a damned good feeling I know what the hell is going on in my cabin right now.
I could call Winnie and warn her I’m heading home early.
Tell her to get her new friend out of my cabin ASAP, especially with the weather turning south.
The snow was meant to start clearing a week ago, and we were supposed to see winter letting up, but it appears Mother Nature has a few surprises left for us.
If I’m right and there is a woman with her children staying in my cabin, then I need to get there sooner rather than later.
I can handle getting snowed in. I’ve got a deep freezer in the basement stocked with prepped meals, and the entire space is set up like a small convenience store.
Canned goods, lentils, pasta—you name it, I have it.
But Winnie doesn’t have a key to that door, so neither does my squatter.
I don’t even have it in me to be mad at this woman, as much as I should be. If she is there, then it’s likely she either doesn’t know my stance, or she’s doing what she can to protect her kids. And as much as I want to be angry, there is a part of me that isn’t.
I growl as I pull into my driveway. The snow falls heavily, already obscuring the road I’d shovelled before leaving. I have a feeling this woman doesn’t have a vehicle equipped for driving through it. She might not even realise the danger she’s in, being trapped on the mountain.
And if I can’t get her and her kids out quick enough, she’s going to be trapped with me.
I see her car parked under the small undercover parking space I built last summer. I made it two cars wide for when my siblings come to visit, especially during winter, even though they don’t use it very often.
When I pull in, my heart races, but I jump out of the truck with my pack in hand. As soon as I make it into the storm, I stop short. A wind howls through the trees, bending even the thickest of trunks as it gusts over the mountain, making the snow fall sideways.
I trudge through it up to the small, covered porch, each breath icy. There are no lights on in the house, but the generator whirls. I can just hear it over the forceful wind.
When I try the front door, it’s unlocked. My heart leaps into my throat as I quietly push it open.
From the doorway, I look in and find two small bodies lying on the sofa, blankets that aren’t mine draped over them.
From here, I can’t make out ages, but they aren’t as young as I thought they’d be.
They’re both sleeping, a boy and a girl, and I can’t make myself want to wake them when they look so peaceful.
They haven’t even noticed the wind or incoming storm.
But I don’t see a sign of their mother. I have to admit, the cabin is spotless. If it weren’t for them sleeping on the sofa, I wouldn’t have known anyone was here.
Gently, I set my pack down and close the door as quietly as possible behind me.
There’s still a heavy weight in my chest, especially as I search for any sign of their mother.
For a moment, I wonder if she went out and left the kids alone.
Is she trapped somewhere in the snow? I look towards the fireplace, which burns hot and has plenty of wood beside it. So, she can’t be out doing that.
The further I creep into the house, the more I can tell someone else has been here.
It’s not the shoes by the front door or the coats.
One kid left a device on the counter, which is plugged into the outlet with a cell phone and two other electronics kids use.
Looks like they’ve been locked up for the afternoon.
There’s also a bag in the hallway leading to the bedroom.
I only have one room, purposefully so I don’t have unwanted guests.
As I make my way towards the bedroom, I notice the bed is made but not with my sheets.
Mine are on the dresser, neatly folded and washed, by the looks of it.
And it looks like they’ve all been sleeping in here, judging by the bags by the window.
It would have been easier if they’d trashed the place. At least then I could have been angry. Could have felt justified in what I know I should do.
But as the shutters and windows rattle from the force of the wind, I can’t make myself feel anything other than relief.
Relief they aren’t out in that. Relief that I’m not, either.
Even though this is not how I want to spend my time snowed in.
As I step into the bedroom, I catch sight of the bathroom and freeze. A woman with long blonde hair, wearing nothing more than panties and a bra, combs her hair. She hasn’t noticed me yet, and I can’t make myself say anything to let her know I’m here.
But I also can’t help but run my eyes over her. Her bra barely contains the swells of her breasts, and her panties—which are more G-string than practical—allows me a full glimpse of her firm, wide ass. Her legs are longer than I would have expected, milky and smooth.
In the reflection of the mirror, she finally notices me, and whirls with a yelp. “What—how did you get in here?”
I cross my arms, drawing in a deep breath as I do. There’s no mistaking she’s been here; her perfume hangs in the air, sweet and tempting as it fills my lungs.
“Could ask you the same thing,” I say, taking a step further into the room. “This is my cabin, after all.”
I watch the realisation cross her face as she grabs a towel. “You’re Caleb,” she says on a sigh. “Oh my god. I am so sorry.”
“Sorry?” I raise a brow and watch her pull the towel around her body. It’s not effective in cutting off my view of her; now that she’s facing me, I take in how her breasts spill over the cups of her bra, and between the ends of the towel, I catch sight of a scar on her stomach.
She stops and looks at me, fear flashing across her face. Immediately, I feel guilty over causing it. “You had no idea we were here.”
“Which I’m guessing you already knew,” I say. “Winnie gave you the key.”
Colour leaves her face, panic filling her eyes. “Look, she just wanted to help us. Please don’t get mad at her.”
I press my lips together, drawing in a deep breath that carries with it the scent of her perfume. The floral notes tickle my nose, not overwhelming in the way most perfumes are. It suits the woman across from me well, though I don’t know why I think that.
Fuck, she’s already inside my head, and I don’t even know her name.
“Please,” she murmurs again, inching closer, hands pressed together as if in prayer.
“I should have known better than to just…come here. But I needed to get my kids out of the motel. There was this old man in the room next door who kept looking at Cleo weirdly, and it worried me, and I can’t get a job right now.
I was a stay at home mom and wife for years, so my resume is rusty, and we can’t move into our house…
” She draws in a deep, shaky breath, tears filling her eyes.
Normally, sob stories don’t get to me. I stopped letting them have any effect years ago. Most of the time, they’re used to manipulate—or at least, that’s been my experience. Especially when people want something from me.
But there’s something about the way her words hang in the air between us, the sadness in them that cracks at some of my resolve.
I want to blame Winnie for getting in my head and making me feel bad. But this woman could have let her children trash my cabin. She could have made a mess of everything. But she’s kept it clean. There aren’t toys everywhere. A window isn’t broken. There isn’t rotting food all over the counters.
That would have been easy to deal with. I could have called Winnie to come pick her up, or get the sheriff involved.
But neither option feels…right.
Sighing, I scrub a hand down my face. “I’m not mad at her,” I say before she can open her mouth and continue. “I’m not comfortable with this, but I’m not mad at her. Or you.”
The breath of relief she releases sounds more like a broken sob, and there’s something about it that has me inching closer. Her entire body seems to deflate as tension dissipates from her, and all the reasons she’s held herself together unravel before my eyes.
I’m in front of her in an instant as she crumbles into my arms, sobbing quietly.
Something in my chest cracks as I listen to her cry, each sound battering the rest of my resolve.
It makes me wonder if I’m as callous and hard as I make myself out to be in front of Winnie.
The me who warned Winnie feels like a far-off memory as I wrap my arms around the woman who broke into my cabin.
A lump forms in my throat when she buries her face in my chest. Somehow, she fits almost perfectly in my arms, and there’s something about it that makes me wary.
Up close, the floral scent of her perfume is even more overwhelming, but I don’t hate it. Her shampoo is sweet, almost citrusy, and I have a feeling once she leaves my arms, I’ll forever be reminded of her by scent alone.
The woman pulls back with a huff, wiping her eyes as she looks up at me. “I’m sorry,” she says, voice low. Her eyes remind me of the lake about a mile down the mountain. Of its depths in the summer months when the sun is high and the water is still. “I shouldn’t have broken down like that.”
I clear my throat and force myself to take a step back. “Nothing to be sorry about,” I grumble, crossing my arms. “Look—”
“We’ll leave,” she offers quietly. “Now. We’re packed to go. I can get the car, and we’ll be out of your hair. I’ll clean first, too. But we can be gone in an hour.”
Sighing, I look over my shoulder. Even though the curtains are closed, I have a feeling the sky is already dark, and the snow has picked up.
If I have to guess, the storm is in full swing now, and there’s no escaping it.
I’d already been worried about them being trapped when I’d pulled in.
In the last fifteen or so minutes I’d been talking to this woman, I have no doubt the weather had changed enough to make it impossible to leave.
“You might not be able to,” I reply slowly, looking back at her. I take in the widening of her eyes, the flash of fear I can’t read. “I left work early because a storm was coming in.”
Her fear turns into something else as she rushes to the window. Sure enough, as she pulls the curtain back, the sky is that deep grey I knew it’d be, and the snow is falling in sheets.
“No,” she whispers, looking back. “Oh, God. I’m so—”
“Look at the snow!” one of her kids shouts from the living room, making me stiffen. I’d almost forgotten we weren’t alone. “Cleo, look!”
The woman’s eyes widen again. “Shit. Shit.” She mutters the curse several more times as she drops her towel and pulls on a pair of tights.
The loss of fabric gives me another chance to drink her in.
Her curves are heavy, and her ass looks far too tempting, especially once the tights go on and hug the globes.
I remain quiet as she pulls on a sweater. “I—uh. Shit.”
She barely spares me another look as she leaves the bedroom. I breathe in deeply like it might calm me and these ridiculous thoughts, but all I smell still is her damn perfume.
Shit indeed.
I slowly leave the bedroom and find her in the living room, eyeing the largest window and the darkness beyond. “Stay away from the glass, just in case,” she tells her boy, dragging him to her side, the young girl standing beside her.
The girl looks over her shoulder, catching my eye, and screams. The woman turns sharply, wide-eyed and panicked, but as soon as she notices me, she releases a heavy breath.
“This is Winnie’s brother. The owner of the cabin,” she says as she wraps an arm around her daughter. Of the two, the girl looks more like her mother, but there are obvious similarities between the pair. I remember Winnie calling them twins.
“Caleb,” I offer, stepping forward.
“Caleb,” the woman murmurs, meeting my stare. “I guess we aren’t leaving, are we?”
I shook my head, gaze flickering to the dark window. “No,” I reply darkly. “I suppose you aren’t.”
That shouldn’t make my chest feel the way it does. Almost like a twinge of hope and relief mixed together. It doesn’t make sense. And yet, that’s not something I should be surprised about, either.
Especially not here in Willow Ridge.