Page 27 of The Fix

“It’s not gonna bite you.”

Her pale throat moves with a swallow. “Why?”

The question catches me off guard, my grin slipping. “Why what?”

It’s not lost on me, despite the buzz I feel fading away and a heaviness filing in, that her sight has yet to move away from the snapped off branches.

“Why are you doing this?”

“It’s the cabin experience,” I explain, my voice dropping as I watch the flames dance. “We used to come up here every winter. Roast hotdogs and make s’mores. It’s what you do.”

My stomach drops as my slipup settles into my ears before the question is even off her lips.

“We?”

She doesn’t know.

“You know what? Never mind.” I push up to my feet with a tightness in my throat and an itch to my palms. “I need a smoke.”

Or ten.

I stride over to my jacket, fumbling for the cigarette pack tangled in the lining.

Sinking.

It feels like I’m sinking in a pit of quicksand fueled only by my emotions and getting deeper with each moment.

“Jeffers.”

I growl, my jaw ticking as I yank. The pack finally comes free, but not without ripping the pocket. Emotions spiraling, I feel the heat from the fire on my chest, rising up my neck. I move to the door that slams at my back with a cigarette already hanging from my lips and the cold slapping me in the face.

“Jeffers.”

Chapter Fourteen

Anna

I’m not certain how long I stand staring after Toby’s hasty escape, but if my butt burning is any indication, it’s been a while.

And he’s still not back inside yet.

As a non-smoker, I’m not sure how long it’s supposed to take to finish a cigarette, but I’m certain it’s been more than long enough.

Deep down, I know that it was more than just me getting under his skin.

While there’s a level of curiosity niggling at the back of my mind, it’s not the lingering questions about Toby’s interactions with the mountains that has me moving forward and picking up his jacket.

A sense of duty is what drives me to slide my arms into the men’s outerwear, the scent of citrus and tobacco enveloping me as I wrap the sides closed around my middle and wander closer to the exit.

Frozen wind meets me when I step out, surprised to find the porch all but empty.

He can’t have gotten far.

“Jeffers,” I call out into the inky black wilderness that spreads beyond the reach of the single porchlight, my breath rushing out from me in a fog that blocks my view. As it clears, I move toward the cabin’s edge, peering into the shadows where the hot tub lies hidden. The darkness swallows my efforts, offering back only silence.

Did he really just go out into the snow?

Reaching the railing, I lean forward, straining to see around the lattice that blocks my view of the porch’s rear section. But it's futile; the darkness is impenetrable.

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