Total pages in book: 125
Estimated words: 119680 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 598(@200wpm)___ 479(@250wpm)___ 399(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119680 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 598(@200wpm)___ 479(@250wpm)___ 399(@300wpm)
And the message has me abandoning my toast and grabbing my keys.
The drive to Winter’s place takes ten minutes.
I park in the spot where we had our first kiss. It feels like a million years have passed since that happened. There’s a narrow path leading into the forest about twenty feet from her driveway, so I duck under the branches, stepping over moss-covered fallen trees, mushrooms growing from their decaying shells. It smells earthy and fresh out here. The forest has no idea there’s been a trauma recently. No clue that sadness and fear linger like heavy storm clouds.
I come out of the forest by a wooden shelter. I haven’t seen Winter’s place during the day before. It’s an original build from the sixties. At the time, it would have been beautiful, a wood-sided cabin perched on top of the hill, overlooking the lake.
Most of the original cottages have been replaced by huge homes, but this one remains—run down and tired, in need of TLC.
Much like the people who inhabit it.
I hope her dad isn’t here. If I run into him, there’s a damn good chance I’ll do something stupid and reckless. But I won’t leave Winter to navigate this nightmare on her own. So I follow the narrow footpath, traveling the perimeter of the cabin. Her bike rests against a tree, her backpack and a small duffle beside it on the ground. Only a few feet of space separate the house from the forest, as though it wants to absorb the cabin back into itself.
The pillars that support the deck are made of old cinder block. The poured cement is cracked and crumbling in places, and the punky wooden beams need replacing.
Splintered wood like giant toothpicks litters the ground. And sitting at the edge of the debris, her knees hugged to her chest, is Winter.
I cross the uneven terrain, following her line of sight to the empty space where a railing should be. It’s a long way down. The landscape is rocky, patchy with grass and covered in deceptively lush moss that squishes under my feet. The landing wouldn’t be forgiving. Every new piece of the puzzle provides clarity on Winter’s bad situation. And how good she is at hiding it.
“How’s your mom?” I sink to the ground beside her.
“She’s awake. She doesn’t remember anything yet. My dad came to the hospital, and I couldn’t handle seeing her happy about him being there. The doctor ordered some tests this morning, so I’ll go back in a couple hours.” She runs her fingers over the moss-covered rock beside her.
“And this was the first place you thought to come?”
“I needed to get some stuff. And I wanted to see for myself what happened.” She motions to the broken railing. “If I’d stayed home and dealt with my dad, she’d be okay.”
Of course she’s blaming herself. It’s all she knows. It’s what she’s been taught. “You didn’t choose him as your father. And you didn’t choose to stay with an abusive partner. You have every right to feel sad and angry that your mom is where she is, but you didn’t do this to her.”
She plucks a piece of grass and rolls it between her fingers. “The worst part is that I keep thinking about what will happen to me. What I stand to lose,” she whispers. “I’m just so fucking selfish.”
“You’re a lot of things, but selfish isn’t one of them.” I put an arm around her, and it takes a moment before her shoulders relax. She leans into me, succumbing to the need for comfort. “Your heart has too many cracks already, Snowflake. Don’t go shattering it by carrying burdens you don’t deserve.”
“I’m not used to relying on other people, BJ.”
“I get that, but it’s never too late to flip the script and try something different.”
She blows out a breath. “I don’t trust stability. It’s unfamiliar.”
“That makes sense, considering what you’ve faced. And you have valid reasons to be skeptical.” I motion to the decaying cabin. “But all being here does is pull you back down to places that hurt. It’s an emotional sinkhole. Once you step in, it’s hard to get out on your own.”
“I was a mess before this happened. I’m going to be an even bigger mess now,” she says softly.
I thread my fingers through hers. “I guess it’s good I like messy, then, huh?”
She huffs a laugh. “Why aren’t you running in the opposite direction yet?”
“Why are you so married to that potential course of action?”
She motions to our surroundings. “This place is a huge step up from where we were living before. You and I are just so different. We don’t make sense.”
I shift so I’m sitting in front of her, blocking her view of the broken railing. “I like you. Full stop. I like hanging out with you. I like that we both live and breathe for time on the ice. I like that you’re a badass and a fighter and you don’t back down. I like that we’re the same in a lot of ways and different in so many others.” I settle my palms on her knees. “I get that you’re guarded, and that life hasn’t always been kind to you, so I’m going to give you a free pass on this whole trying-to-push-me-away shit. Unfortunately for you, it’s not going to work. I’m a tenacious fucker with a capital T, and I don’t back down either. If you hate the box that’s been made for you, stop stepping back into it.”