Page 20 of Cedarwood Cabin

I storm up the stairs and slam my bedroom door shut with a loud thud. I collapse onto my bed and cry. I’ve never spoken to my father like that before. I want to say sorry, but I am too angry right now.

The house is eerily quiet. Suddenly, I hear the front door slam shut. The truck's engine starts outside and I realize that my father has left.

I lie on my bed as tears stream down my face. My phone buzzes in my pocket. I get it out and I see I have a text message from my father.

Dad

Gone for a drive.

Me

Okay.

I feel remorseful, yet angry at my father. I cry into my pillow as I lie there, curled up on my bed and wishing my mother was here. I surrender to the emotions and let it all out. My eyes feel heavy as I sob.

I don’t know how I fell asleep. Hearing my father downstairs getting ready for work puts my mind at ease, despite our unresolved tension.

How would my mother have handled this situation? I wish she were still alive; she would have been calmer and more understanding than my father.

I’m ready to face my father and the day. I get out of bed and head to the bathroom.

Walking down the hallway, I hear my father shout, “Flora…I’m going to work, okay?”

I pause at the bottom of the staircase and look down at him. “Okay,” I reply with a blunt tone.

“We can talk when I get home…” his words trail off.

I silently acknowledge his words. I turn around and continue towards the bathroom.

“Flora, I love you,” he shouts up.

I hesitate for a moment, my hand on the bathroom door. I want to respond, but for some reason, I don’t. I shut the door behind me, biting the inside of my cheek.

The sound of the front door closing cuts through the house. A sudden surge of regret washes over me and I bolt out of the bathroom. I rush to my bedroom window, pulling it open. I lean out, hoping to catch my father before he leaves, but it's too late. I watch as the truck drives down the street.

I linger at the window and I whisper into the wind, “I love you, too, Dad.”

I sit in the bath, leaning my head against the edge, closing my eyes, and letting my thoughts drift. Dax appears in my head, riding on his bike. I felt a rush of intoxicating freedom. He is undeniably hot. I wanted to kiss him, or maybe it was just the adrenaline from the ride playing tricks on my mind.

Then there was Lyka. His presence lingers in my thoughts. Taunting me with that smirk, like he knows something I don’t. The Faulkner brothers were constantly on my mind. Dax with his golden eyes and Lyka with his icy blue stare. They had a way of getting under my skin.

I open my eyes to the sound of the occasional faucet drip. Reaching for the plug in the bathtub, I pull it. I stand up, step out of the tub, and feel a chill. I grab a black towel from the rack and wrap it around my body.

All of a sudden, I hear a knock at the front door. Wrapped only in a towel, I decide to investigate. Tiptoeing down the stairs, I open the door just a crack and peek around the door. Marty stands there, glancing around the yard.

“Marty…” I say, my voice filled with surprise.

“Can I come in?” he asks.

I nod and open the door fully, my naked body still hidden behind the towel. As he enters, I take a step back and tighten the towel around me.

“Aren’t you supposed to be at work?” I ask.

“I’m working the night shift this week,” he replies, his eyes never leaving mine.

I feel uncomfortable as we stand there in silence.

“I can’t stop thinking about you,” he continues, stepping closer.

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