Chapter 9 #2
She looks between us, incredulous. “Are you joking? I can’t keep secrets from your father! He’s my boss! And your father! And your -”
“My ex-stepfather, not my current one. Just throwing that out there,” Ally adds.
Taranne wrings her hands. “But I’m sure there’s something in the bible about this! Shit… He’s going to ask why I saw two wet naked adults in the bathroom!”
“No, he won’t. You’ll tell him the generator is fine, the cabin is fine, and you saw absolutely nothing.”
“BUT I SAW EVERYTHING!”
Ally rubs her face. “Oh my god.”
Taranne’s breathing gets faster. “I can’t lie to him!”
“You lie to him every day,” Ally says. “You literally lie about his meeting times so he doesn’t show up early and cause chaos.”
“That’s different!” Taranne shrieks. “That’s ethical lying!”
I drag a hand down my face. This is spiraling.
“OK,” I say, forcing air into my lungs. “New plan. Taranne, come sit down. We’re adults. We can talk this through.”
“I can’t sit down,” she says faintly. “I’m in shock. I need electrolytes.”
Ally points to the kitchen. “Drink a Gatorade then, you absolute wetwipe!”
“I LEFT IT IN THE CAR!”
“Jesus Christ, if this woman isn’t on Prozac, I want to know which doctor she needs to sue for negligence,” Ally mutters.
We shuffle, still dripping, into the living room while Taranne follows, wringing her scarf like she’s throttling a snake. She keeps making small panicked noises every time she remembers we’re both only towel-clad.
Finally, Ally sits on the couch, clutching her towel like armor. I lower myself beside her, ankle throbbing, heart pounding.
Taranne perches on the armchair like it might bite.
“Nate,” she says breathlessly, “what are you thinking? You cannot… date… your stepsister!”
I groan. “Taranne, she’s not my stepsister anymore. That marriage ended years ago.”
“You practically grew up in the same house!”
“We absolutely did not,” Ally snaps. “That’s a gross exaggeration. We lived together for, what, eight, nine months in total before I left for uni? And that was broken up into small -”
“Eleven. Eleven months,” I correct before thinking.
She shoots me a look. I shut up.
Taranne flaps her hands. “Mac will still have a meltdown! And he’ll blame me…”
“He has no right,” Ally points out quite reasonably. “He cheated on my mother.”
“AND she divorced him!” Taranne says, pointing a trembling finger. “He’s been trying to get back on your good side ever since! If he finds out you’re sleeping with his son -”
“He’ll what?” Ally says flatly. “Lecture us? Ground us? Please. We’re both grown adults, and not related by blood, so will you calm the fuck down. And, while you’re at it, book yourself a holiday with a mindfulness retreat, for the love of God.”
I choke on a laugh I absolutely should not allow to escape.
Taranne slouches back. “I don’t know what to do.”
“You don’t have to do anything,” I say. “It’s nothing to do with you, after all. We’ll tell them.”
Both Ally and Taranne snap their heads toward me.
“What?” Ally says.
“No. No, no, no,” Taranne moans. “Don’t tell them. They’ll blame me.”
“I’m not blaming you.”
“Mac will!” she whimpers.
“Christ, Taranne, what is Mac doing to you to make you behave this way?” Ally stares at Taranne. “Seriously, you’ve lost all perspective.”
I turn to Ally. “Look. We’re not kids. Like you said, we’re adults. And cabin fever or not, what we’re doing isn’t wrong. It’s just complicated.”
She bites her lip, staring at me.
I keep going. “We can’t hide like this. Not if this is… going anywhere. And, no offence, Taranne,” I throw to her with a quick glance, “not everyone is going to act like the four horsemen have been sighted in Montana.”
Taranne makes a faint choking sound.
Ally looks down at her hands in her lap. Then up at me. Something shifts in her expression—a blend of fear and clarity.
“You’d tell them,” she says quietly. “Mum and Mac both.”
“Not because we owe them,” I say. “But because I’m done pretending there’s nothing here.”
Her throat works. “You really think this can go somewhere.”
“I know it already has. And I like it.”
She’s shaking. Just barely, but enough that I reach out, slowly, and take her hand. She lets me.
Taranne watches like she’s witnessing a live grenade roll around. This time, I kind of relate. Here’s my heart, I just told the woman I’ve always loved, do you want it, or should I put it away?
Ally squeezes my fingers once, tight. “OK,” she whispers. “We’ll tell them. Together.”
My chest opens like something locked in it has finally snapped free.
“Together,” I echo.
Taranne groans into her scarf. “You’re both insane. You’re going to destroy my blood pressure. But… OK. Fine. I won’t say anything to Mac. Not until you do.”
“Thank you,” Ally breathes.
Taranne stands abruptly. “And don’t let him blame me for a damn thing. I’m not losing my job because you two are… Well. I’m leaving before I see anything else I can’t unsee.”
She grabs her coat, babbles a few more panicked syllables, and bolts out the door like the cabin is haunted.
Silence descends.
Then Ally bursts into nervous laughter. “Oh my God. Oh my GOD. She saw everything. Of all people.”
I drop my face into her shoulder, laughing helplessly. “She’s going to need therapy.”
“She already did. Her face...”
We laugh until it becomes something quieter, shakier, the emotional echo of everything that just changed.
When the laughter fades, I look at her. Really look at her, with her damp hair, slipping towel, and uncertain yet brave eyes. “You OK?” I ask.
“No,” she says honestly. “Yes. Maybe. Nate, this is huge.”
“I know.”
“What if this blows up?”
“Then it blows up,” I say with acceptance. “But we won’t lie. Not about this. Not about us.”
She studies me with that astute, searching look that used to terrify me when she was sixteen and already smarter than all of us put together.
Then she exhales, presses her palm to my cheek, and whispers, “OK. We tell them.”
The weight of it settles between us. We’re real. It’s heavy. Terrifying. Exhilarating. Everything I never dared hope for.
I kiss her palm.
And for the first time since she walked through the cabin door in a blizzard, it feels like we’re not hiding inside a temporary world anymore. We’re building one, just for us.
And when the snow finally melts?
We’re walking out of this cabin together.