Page 25 of The Fix

As I crunch the rainbow marshmallows between my teeth, my eyes follow Anna’s silent form around the kitchen while she cleans up her mess.

She goes over each spot repeatedly, only stopping when she has touched every inch of the marble and returned every item she used—cleaned, dried, and straightened.

As if she was never here.

I’m left blinking after her when she finally disappears down the hall and slides the bedroom door closed.

Holy fuck.

Pushing off from the counter, I stand and stare down the hall as if the emptiness will explain what the hell I just saw.

It’s not until the coffeepot beeps that I’m shaken from my stupor, heading to the machine, so many questions swirling around in my head.

There’s no way.

When the first taste of brew finally hits my tongue, I shake away the inquisitions because the questions don’t matter.

What does matter is how uptight the woman is about everything.

She’s so stringent, straightlaced, and beyond stuck in the mud when it comes to anything even remotely fun.

We’re in the mountains for Christ’s sake and she’s yet to even drink anything alcoholic, make a s’more in the fireplace, or get in the hot tub.

Bet she doesn’t even own a bathing suit.

And if she did, it would be beige. In a single piece that covers her from head to toe.

But then an idea hits me at how I can make Ms. Prune let loose.

It all starts with a good old-fashioned wooded retreat experience.

Involving something alcoholic and some sticky marshmallows.

Chapter Thirteen

Toby

Operation: Rehydrate Prune.

It’s what I’ve deemed tonight’s activities and any others that follow if this works to get Anna to loosen the fuck up.

She’s still holed up in the bedroom like she has been all day, alone and not at all enjoying any bit of the cabin life.

I, on the other hand, have ventured out into the snow to retrieve the perfect sticks to use in the fire, gathered more firewood to keep this plan alight, and gotten myself two sheets to the wind.

Not three, because it gets ugly when I hit three sheets to the wind, but some of us know how to have fun.

Even alone.

I even took the time to record some guitar playing and sent it off to Leo for him to do his thing with the online shit that keeps our band at the forefront.

Now, I'm making my way down the hallway, cheeks burning with windburn and my favorite hoodie thrown on for warmth. It’s half-zipped and doesn’t match my gray joggers, but after freezing outside, comfort won. “Oh, Ms. Prune,” I call, knocking on her door. “Time to come out of your cave.”

“No!”

“C’mon,” I shout at the door. “There’s that word again!”

“Go away, Jeffers.”

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