Chapter 4
Lake
After Saint left and everyone else left me alone, I ran.
I grabbed a backpack, stuffed it with the bare essentials, my ID, and as much cash as I had stashed away, and snuck off to the airport.
I need space. I need time. I need to be able to walk into a room without everyone immediately looking at me with pity in their eyes.
The only person who treats me like I’m not fragile is my sister-in-law, Bea, but she’s so busy with the kids that they’re her priority.
As it should be. I love my adorable nieces; nothing makes me happier than spending time with them, but I won’t taint them with my depressive mood swings.
So, as I board the plane, heading to Evansville, Indiana, where I’ll pick up my rental car and drive the rest of the way to the town of Santa Claus, I try to remember that I shouldn’t feel guilty leaving the way I did.
At least not to the extent I currently do.
I left my parents a letter, explaining my decisions and that I’d call when I arrived at my rental cabin.
My phone is now off and will remain so until I’m ready to allow the outside world in again. Removing my headphones as I’m directed to my seat in first class, I remain hopeful that the other one remains empty.
Before storing my bag, I retrieve the book Stalked by the Assistant Coach by Mayra Statham, which I’ve held off on reading.
It’s an obsessive second-chance football romance.
Different than I ordinarily read, but I’m in the mood for something new.
Once I’ve gathered my book, headphones to listen to music while reading, my bag of crunchy cheddar-jalapeno Cheetos, and a Cherry Twist Alani Nu, I put up my bag and buckle into my seat.
Boarding takes a bit, and I try to remain calm, instead focusing on the things I’ll do once I arrive in Santa Claus this evening.
I’ve wanted to visit since I was a little girl.
The Christmas town always seemed so fun.
I’d imagined going with my family for years, then on my own, because with this feeling of being so lost, it’s better than nothing.
As the final few passengers board, and the flight attendants secure the overhead compartments before ensuring everyone is buckled up and their seats are in order, I release the breath I’ve been clinging to as the airplane door shuts and locks. I’ll have the seats to myself for this flight.
Once takeoff has commenced, and we’re in the air, I slip on my headphones and hit play on my AirPods before opening my book and diving in to become lost in the pages of a life not nearly as tragic as my own.
The weather stays smooth and clear as we glide through the puffy, white clouds, almost like we’re meant to be here.
Lost in the beauty of the open sky, I don’t realize the flight attendant is trying to gain my attention until her hand touches my shoulder, and I nearly jump out of my skin, slapping a hand over my mouth so as not to make a sound.
“I’m so sorry,” she says, appearing horrified as I remove my headphones. “I did not mean to scare you.” Her remorse seems genuine.
“No, it’s fine, I was daydreaming.” Sort of.
“Would you like a drink or snack?” she offers.
“A water with ice, please.” I could use the cool-off for the moment.
I accept the cup, and she offers another apology before moving on. Sipping the refreshing liquid, I roll an ice cube around my mouth before crunching on it and swallowing.
With a few deep breaths, I take out my own snacks from my bag and return to my book, leaving one of the ear cups pushed behind my ear so I’m not taken by surprise again. I easily get lost in my fictional world of romance once again.
Before I know it, we land, and everyone rushes to deplane.
I keep to my seat since I hate mingling in crowds like this until I’m the last passenger on the aircraft.
Another apology is offered as I thank the pilots and the attendants while making my exit.
Immediately, the winter chill nips my nose, and for the first time in far too long, a genuine smile curls my lips as I take the moment to breathe it in.
Taking my time while passing through the airport, I watch other travelers rush from one spot to another. Some are picked up by loved ones, and I’m slammed with regret, wishing I could have had someone with me.
Picking up the rental car is a bit of a hassle, and I almost lose my patience, but I’m finally settled in and driving out of the airport on my way to Santa Claus.
I’ve plugged in an audiobook for noise, not really paying attention to anything but the snow-covered roads as a storm slowly begins rolling across the skies.
This is what I’ve always wanted, but now that it’s here, it’s a little scary. I’d hoped to be curled up next to a fire by now, munching on popcorn and watching old reruns of The Closer with Kyra Sedgwick.
The closer I get, the slower traffic moves, until I turn onto the final road, meandering to where I’ll be staying.
After checking in and being given instructions to the cabin, I soak in the property’s atmosphere.
In a town like this, it doesn’t matter that Christmas passed weeks ago; they enjoy the beauty and magic of the holiday all year long.
Thankfully, when I called this morning, they offered to have groceries delivered before my arrival, knowing the storm was imminent. When I enter, a welcome basket awaits me on the counter with a note stating that my request has been processed and everything has been put away.
The cabin is cozy. Precisely what I pictured from an open floor plan.
The entryway leads into the kitchen with the living room to the left.
A picturesque fireplace is the focal point of the structure.
A loft above the back half of the cabin serves as the bedroom, along with another smaller fireplace.
Oversized furniture fills the space with lots of throw pillows and blankets.
It’s warm and homey and exactly what I need.
After hauling my bag upstairs, I change into a soft pair of lounge pants, a long-sleeved crop top—something I’d only ever wear when I’m alone—and a pair of fuzzy socks.
After plopping down on the bed, phone in hand, I stare at it with trepidation.
As soon as it’s turned on, there will be dozens of messages from my family asking where I am and pleading with me to call them back.
And I will, just after some much-needed alone time first.
Returning downstairs, I ignite the gas fireplace, grateful it’s not wood-burning because I’d be lost on how to light it properly.
Bringing the television to life, I log in to a streaming site and start my show from the first episode before heading to the kitchen for food.
I’m starving. I was in such a hurry this morning that I didn’t stop until… well…now, I suppose.
The background noise helps ease some of my anxiety as the wind picks up and howls, flowing between cabins and in through the fireplace chimneys as snow swirls around outside, quickly covering every surface in a heavy blanket.
I find the ingredients for a simple but favorite comfort meal—grilled cheese and tomato soup—and become invested in making the food while watching my show, when a sharp crack makes me jump out of my skin.
With a peek outside the kitchen window, I notice a large branch from one of the trees between cabins has broken off and now sits in the snow, waiting to be buried. It’s a whole new experience to immerse myself in a winter wonderland instead of just dreaming about it.
Despite my heart rate spiking for a second, I feel at peace here. Like I don’t have to spy around every corner, waiting for someone to hurt me. Ridiculous, I know. I’ve been here for only a few hours, but the change of scenery has made such a difference, and I can only hope it helps to improve.
Once my food is ready, I move to the living room and place my dishes on the coffee table, grab a throw pillow, and drop it on the floor to sit on.
That’s where I spend the evening, eating my dinner, enjoying a hot drink, and engulfed in my show, before finally settling into the overstuffed cushions of the couch, with a blanket over my feet and a power up of my phone.
As predicted, loads of messages pour in. From Mom and Dad, Saint, my brothers, Hadley, Aria, and Scotlyn. Everyone wanting to know where I am and if I’m okay. The only ones I respond to are Bea and my mom because they’ll respect my need for space and, hopefully, convince everyone else to as well.
After explaining why I took so long to respond, Mom sends me an “I love you” message and asks me to check in with her every couple of days. Just so she knows I’m alive.
Bea sends me a few paragraphs letting me know how loved I am and how worried everyone is, while also telling me to take care.
I love my family, but they can be a little overwhelming.
When I finally open Saint’s messages, a yearning to have him close grips my chest, and I’m not sure how long I’ll last without him near me. With each message, I feel his desperation to know where I am and to have me tell him.
Saint: Why did you leave?
Saint: I could have helped you.
Saint: Where are you?
Saint: Answer me.
Saint: Please.
It cost him a lot to say please, yet I still don’t know how to respond without caving.
Saint: At least tell me you’re okay.
Saint: Lake…
Saint: I’m coming.
Alarmed, I shoot up straighter, noticing the time of his last message and wondering if he’s found me already. I know for him, he won’t give up. Not when it comes to me.