Caught by the Blizzard: A romantic winter thriller (Tellure Hollow Book 1) (21 page)

As we reached the front door, Kayla screamed from the bedroom. “You can’t just run away with some local! You don’t even know him!”

Liz slammed the door and gave me a tight smile, pulling on a new jacket. “Ready when you are.”

I’d been so shocked by her outburst, much of the urgency had sapped from my bones. I wanted to stop, clean the blood from her face, hold her close to my chest. As I looked into those crystal blue eyes, I saw the fear just below the surface, like bubbles under ice. “Alright, come on.”

The closer we drove into town, the more nervous I got. I half expected Rick to come screaming out of a side street, just laying in wait for us to drive by. Tellure Hollow was a small town. It wouldn’t take long for him to find us and if not him, then maybe one of the police. As I drove past Freddy’s on the way to my house, I thought to call Walt. Without a house phone, the best I could do was call the store and leave a message. I let him know everything was fine, we were safe, and that we were going to lay low for a couple days until things cooled down. Liz glanced at me when I said the last part, an expression I couldn’t read in the dark.

We were in and out of my house in a matter of minutes. Like someone staring at the back of my head, it was like I could feel Rick just behind me. I stuffed a bunch of food into a couple shopping bags, grabbed some toiletries, and filled my backpack with a few changes of warm clothes. Even though I hadn’t told her exactly where we were going, I was glad Liz had packed warmly. The cabin was never the best place to spend a winter.

As I zipped around the house, Liz stood hugging herself. We had barely spoken on the way down and I feared she was retreating into herself again. I jogged out to the truck and came back, scanning the house for any survival gear we might need. I remembered the extra flashlights I’d found in a drawer. I also threw a couple empty gas cans into the bed of the truck, mentally planning on stopping at the other station in town to fill up. I had no way of knowing if the cabin’s generator had enough fuel, and I didn’t want to chance another trip into town.

“Alright, let’s go.” She nodded at me again, quietly following me out of the house and back into the truck.

It was nearly midnight by the time I pulled off the highway and onto the secondary road. I’d turned on the radio to drown out the deafening silence between us. It wasn’t uncomfortable but we were both processing everything that had happened. What she’d screamed at the cabin as she was packing ran through my mind like it was on repeat.
If I’m lucky, I’ll be able to walk away in one piece
. The idea of her even having that thought in her head tore me apart.

It’d been nearly a decade since I’d been to my grandfather’s hunting cabin, but I knew the way on an almost instinctual level. When I pulled the truck onto the dirt road, I started to worry. The snow was coming down pretty heavy, the thick flakes flying toward the headlights hypnotically. I had to slow down to navigate through the accumulation. These dirt roads were some of the last ones to get plowed and it hadn’t even occurred to me that the driveway to the cabin would be untouched.

The anxiety I’d felt in town slowly drained as I put more and more distance between Rick and us. However, it was quickly replaced with another kind of stress. When I’d first thought about coming to the mountains for the season, my mother had suggested staying at the old cabin. Even the thought had nearly triggered a panic attack. Nothing but memories of my father, of skiing, ice fishing, the entire life I’d had that was now cast in shadow. The ghosts of that life still lived at this cabin and here I was, driving straight for it, not sure if I was prepared to face it.

Ten minutes later, I spotted my granddad’s mailbox. Hard to miss a big pink salmon the size of a small dog, even in the middle of a snowstorm. Liz perked up as I slowed down, pointing the high beams at the untouched snow.

“Is this it?” she asked, squinting into the darkness. Only the very edge of the cabin was visible.

“The only problem is, I can’t remember exactly where the driveway is,” I said, studying the slope. Clicking the truck into 4WD, I steadily made my way up, hoping I avoided any deep ditches. A few tense moments later, the headlights skated across the front door, the ground leveling out. Breathing a sigh of relief, I pointed the headlights at the generator on the side. I felt more on edge now than when I was swinging a gun at someone’s head. I concentrated on the tasks at hand, ignoring where I was for the time being.

As I filled the generator with one of the gas canisters, Liz got out of the truck and grabbed her suitcase from the back. “The door is probably unlocked if you wanna test it,” I said glancing up.

“Seriously?”

“There’s nothing inside worth stealing. The closest house is a couple miles in each direction. And my grandfather was a trusting man.”

Liz scowled and then shrugged, testing the doorknob. The door swung open, the creak of it alone unleashing a flood of memories. I kicked myself. I’d been so intent on getting her to a safe place, I didn’t stop to consider what it might do to me. The last time I’d been up here, Dad and I had gone hiking in the woods.
He’d just bought that new pack for me and I couldn’t wait to test it out…
I pushed the memory away with a shake of my head. I finished pouring the gasoline into the tank and thankfully, the generator quickly stuttered to life.

Stepping past Liz in the doorway, I felt along the wall for the light switch I knew was there. A single overhead light flickered on, bathing the dusty cabin in a pale yellow light. I looked at her, an apology on my lips. What the hell was I thinking taking her up here? We should’ve gone to Denver or something, stayed in a hotel.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“I…uh…” I stared at her, completely at a loss for words. “I’ll go get the rest of the stuff,” I finally blurted. “Stay here.”

After dragging everything else inside, I quickly assessed what we had, trying to ignore the memories each object held. The tiny stove was electric and seemed to work, unlike the fridge. We’d have to keep the perishable food outside in the snow, which was fine. The toilet worked, but smelled faintly like the septic tank when it was flushed. The water for the shower was heated on a tank up on the roof, gravity providing the water pressure. We’d have to wait till the afternoon if we wanted to use it. I also managed to unearth a single lamp, which was much better than the harsh overhead light.

Liz busied herself by taking the blankets off the sofa and bed, sending clouds of dust into the air. I couldn’t help but watch her out of the corner of my eye. What was she thinking? How was she actually handling all this?

Her lips curled into a small smile. “I’m not going to have a breakdown, if that’s what you’re wondering,” she said without looking at me. “I’m just freezing.” She patted the pillows on the small double bed, covering her face in the crook of her arm to avoid the dust.
Dad was probably the last person to sleep on that bed
, I thought idly.

Again, pulling myself from the memory, I returned my attention to the furnace. I’d piled the wood just so, inserting a few strips of fat wood to make sure it caught the first time. The rolled newspaper caught and the dark iron furnace glowed with flickering orange light. I knelt in front of it, watching the embers snake along the print, changing color with the flame. I felt like I was being torn in three directions. The ghosts of the past in this place, the dangers of the present threatening us, and perhaps my future, watching me light the fire.

“Holy shit,” I heard Liz shiver. She was curled into a tight ball on the old patterned sofa, rubbing her hands together. The blood on her forehead was dried and dark.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” I said, rocking to my feet. I grabbed a cushion from the sofa and threw it on the floor in front of the fire. “Come sit here. I’m gonna take a look at your cuts.”

“I’m really fine,” she insisted. The look I gave her was enough to end any further arguments. She rolled her eyes, making out that I was being overbearing. “Alright, have it your way.”

The English language hasn’t developed words to describe how I was feeling. As Bryan sat beside me wiping blood from my hair, all I could think of was what it’d be like to feel his hot skin against mine. I nearly reached out to touch his face, stopping just short. Maybe I was in shock, my addled brain turning to sex as a form of distraction, as if I wanted to be distracted by Bryan. They say your emotions run high during episodes of high stress. If my ex whatever-the-hell-he-was coming back and nearly kidnapping me wasn’t high-stress, I’m not sure what is.

I trained my eyes on the growing flames as Bryan inspected the cut on my head. As a way to take my mind off wanting to jump him right then and there, I started talking. The words poured from my mouth like an open faucet. I guess a part of me wanted to find an explanation, either for myself or for him. With everything he’d done, I owed him that much…

“I lost my mom when I was little. She died of a particularly aggressive form of breast cancer. One of her sisters died from it, and my other aunt is still fighting.” My voice sounded foreign, devoid of emotion.

“God, that’s terrible…” he said, his hand pausing on my head. I closed my eyes as Bryan brushed the hair out of my face, tucking it behind my ear. He dabbed the cut with a wet cloth and I continued.

“Yeah, well, seems the women in my family are predisposed to it. Mom didn’t find out until she was Stage 4. It was already too late,” my voice quivered at the end. He reached out for my hand, which I took but held limply. “Anyway, she died just as I was going through puberty, you know? It was terrible. I started developing these breasts that I knew were all but a death sentence for me. I just remember crying all the time, wanting to rip them off.”

I felt like I was thirteen again, scared, lonely. I tried so hard to not think about her death, even though everything I did, the person I was, sprung from the event. I remembered he’d lost his dad as well, so I knew he could understand. In that regard, I felt connected to him but had to remember we were still essentially strangers.

“When I turned eighteen, I went into the hospital, had them replaced with ones that were less likely to kill me,” I said grabbing one of my breasts quickly, letting my hand fall back into my lap. Bryan frowned, his eyes filled with concern I could hardly stand to see.

“Aw man, and I was such an asshole the other night.” I felt my face flush. He had been a dick, but I’d severely overreacted. “God, I’m so sorry.”

I shrugged. “I’m still pretty sensitive about it. It’s only been a couple years and it wasn’t your fault, really.”

Bryan took my hands in his, turning the palms upward. In the growing fire, I could see the scrapes, bits of gravel embedded in his skin. I looked up into his green eyes and sighed. “This is gonna hurt, isn’t it?”

He winced at the idea. “I’ll make it quick.” He led me into the bathroom, pulling the coat from my shoulders. I sat on the closed toilet, watching him from the corner of my eye. When I’d gotten back to the house, I’d changed my coat but didn’t think to change my clothes. When I rolled out of the Jeep to get away from Rick, I’d landed on my elbows and forearms, tearing through the thin fabric to my skin. The sleeves of my shirt were torn, stuck to my flesh with dark blood. “Shit Liz, are you sure you’re alright? This is a pretty gnarly road rash.”

I shook my head. Whether the numbness came from the cold or my emotions, it dulled any pain I should’ve been feeling.

He soaked a washcloth in cold water and pressed it to the fabric so it would pull away gently, not tear. I kept talking, staring off into space.