Page 9 of Backwater Bachelor

I sigh, running a hand through my hair, and turn away from her, feeling the weight of the situation pressing down on me. Outside, the sky has darkened, and the first rumbles of thunder echo through the swamp. A storm is rolling in, fast and furious.

The wind picks up, rattling the windows, and I turn back to Jane, seeing her eyes flicker with a new kind of fear. “Look,” I say, raising my voice to be heard over the growing tempest. “It’s not safe out there, but if you want I’ll take you home?”

She looks at me, her expression torn. I can see the conflict in her eyes—she doesn’t want to stay here with someone she’s unsure of, but the storm outside is dangerous, and she knows it.

“Maybe you’d rather take your chances with the storm than stay here in a boathouse with a suspected murderer,” I add, my voice bitter despite my attempt to keep it light.

Her eyes flash with something like guilt, and she shakes her head. “It’s not that, Danny…”

I nod, swallowing hard. “I understand. But the storm is no joke. It’s safer here. You can leave in the morning, once it’s passed.”

She bites her lip, glancing toward the window where the rain has started to pour in earnest. Thunder crashes, and she jumps, her decision made for her. “Okay. I’ll stay.”

“Good,” I say, relieved but still on edge. “Let’s make sure everything’s secure. The storms around here can get pretty rough.”

We move around the boathouse, closing windows and securing anything that might blow away. The air between us is thick with unspoken words, the chemistry that once felt so natural now fraught with tension and uncertainty.

Once everything is secure, we sit back down, the howling wind and pounding rain creating a cacophony outside. I can feel Jane’s unease, and it kills me that I’m the cause of it.

“Jane,” I start, my voice barely audible over the storm. “I swear to you, I didn’t do it. I’d never hurt anyone.”

She nods slowly, her gaze drifting to the floor. “I believe you.”

“Good,” I say earnestly. “Because I don’t know what I would’ve done if you’d run out of here, screaming bloody murder.”

Jane flashes a pale smile, that doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

The storm rages outside, each lost in our thoughts. The loaded energy between us ebbs and flows with every crash of thunder, and I can only hope that come morning, the storm will have passed in more ways than one.

9.

Jane

We sit around the small wooden table, the dim light from a lantern casting shadows on the walls. The wind howls and the rain pounds against the roof. It’s almost impossible to hear anything over the tempest, but Danny’s voice carries through, a low and steady anchor in the chaos.

I listen as he tells me stories about the swamp, trying to focus on his words instead of the lingering fear that gnaws at me. His tales range from humorous to fascinating—like the time he encountered a family of otters or the folklore about the swamp’s mysterious lights. For a while, it’s easy to forget the tension, to just get lost in his voice and the world he describes.

“Have you ever heard about the ghost of the Bayou Butcher?” Danny asks suddenly, his eyes taking on a haunted look. “They say he roams the swamp at night, looking for revenge. He was murdered by a young beautiful woman, you see, and now his spirit never rests.”

A chill runs down my spine, and I can’t help but shiver. “That sounds... creepy,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady.

Danny nods, leaning in closer, his face half-hidden in shadow. “Yeah, it is. People have seen him, or at least, they say they have. They hear his footsteps, see light flickering in the distance. And sometimes, they hear his whispers, calling them deeper into the swamp.”

The atmosphere in the room feels suddenly oppressive, the storm outside amplifying the darkness of his words. I shift uncomfortably in my seat, my heart racing. “That’s... quite a story.”

He notices my discomfort and pulls back, the intensity in his eyes softening. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you. It’s just one of those local legends. Didn’t mean anything by it.”

I nod, trying to shake off the unease that’s settled over me. “It’s okay. Just... maybe not the best time for ghost stories.”

Danny chuckles, but it sounds forced, and an awkward silence falls between us. I can feel the weight of the earlier tension creeping back in, and I need a moment to clear my head.

“I think I’m going to turn in,” I say, standing up and forcing a smile. “It’s been a long day.”

“Of course,” Danny replies, standing as well. “There’s a guest room down the hall. It’s not much, but it’s comfortable.”

I give him a small, appreciative nod before heading towards the room he mentioned.

The guest room is simple but cozy, with a small bed covered in a quilt and a nightstand with a lamp. I close the door behind me, leaning against it for a moment as I take a deep breath. The storm’s fury is muted here, the walls providing some sense of security, though the unease still lingers.

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