Page 11 of Dare To Live

“If they don’t agree, quit.”

I shake my head. “I am not quitting my job.”

Miles gives a mock scowl. “Then you better hope they agree. Because one way or another, you’re coming to New York with us.”

Chapter 6

Eli

“I’m surprised you’re not going into the city for Christmas.” Roger stamps his feet, knocking off the snow from his boots before stepping inside.

“Are you? Really?” I take the box he hands to me and walk into the kitchen.

The older man chuckles. “Maybe not. But it’s not good for you, Eli. Being cooped up here all year round, with barely any human interaction.”

“I like it that way.” I follow him back outside to his 4x4 and take out another three boxes.

“Adaline thought that would be the case, so she prepared enough meals to see you over Christmas and New Year. She’s worried about you starving while we’re away.”

“Are you going to stay with your daughter this year?” I’ve never met Rose, but I’ve heard all about her from the older couple. She escaped to city life as soon as she finished high school, accepting a scholarship at UCLA. She flies her parents out to stay with her twice a year. I’m pretty sure if she could convince them, she’d move them closer, but I don’t think Roger enjoys city life all that much.

“For Christmas and New Year. We’ll be back home during the second week of January sometime. But Addie has cooked up a storm and made you enough food to see you through to the end of January … just in case.”

“Thank her for me.”

He snorts. “You’ve thanked us enough. Those solar panels you had installed have been a godsend.”

“I’m sure there’s more I could do.”

“It’s not necessary, Eli.” He drops the final box of food onto the kitchen table and pats my shoulder. “You’re a good boy. I wish you’d go home to your family for Christmas instead of staying out here. Reports say there are blizzards moving in.”

“It’s December. It wouldn’t be Christmas without a blizzard to snow us in.” I shrug. “I like it.”

“Of course, you do.” His voice is dry.

“When are you leaving?” I open the door to my walk-in freezer and start opening boxes and taking out the Tupperware tubs to stack inside.

“Four days’ time.”

“Is there any work you need doing on your place while you’re gone?”

“No. Ever since you repaired the roof for me, we’ve had no problems. If you could stop by and check everything is still locked up while we’re away, I’d appreciate that, but don’t be battling through the snow to do it.”

I smile but don’t say anything. We both know I’ll do it, no matter the weather.

Once everything is packed away in my freezer, Roger takes his leave. I stand by the door and watch him drive away before pulling on a thick jacket and heading out around the back of the cabin. The temperature has dropped again, so I want to do an area check and make sure everything is protected. I spent a lot of money bringing the cabin up to year-round living standards and have top of the range solar panels, and backup generators installed that give accessibility to electricity, power showers, and more. The nearby lake supplies my water through an underground pump, which goes into a tank where the water is filtered and purified before feeding into my home. I also have underfloor heating throughout, but I rarely use it, preferring the natural log fire in the main room. Since there’s only me, I don’t feel the need to heat up all the rooms I never use.

When I reach the furthest point of my property, I spot one of the boundary fences has broken. During my first year living out here alone, I decided to build a perimeter fence after bears tried breaking into my storage sheds. Over the years, I’ve modified and changed how I store food, art supplies and more, but I still keep the fence up just to give me that small barrier against the wildlife living in the forest around me. They can still get in, they just need to either climb the fence, break through it or keep following it around until they reach the front of the cabin where there’s a gap in the barrier to allow for the narrow road leading out into the forest.

It takes me a while to repair it. It’s snowing, not heavily, but enough to leave a thin layer of white on my clothes, and I’m shivering and sneezing by the time I’m done.

Once I’m done, I step back to assess the job. Good enough. Returning my tools to the shed, I lock up and head indoors. My cell bursts into life just as I walk inside.

“Ellie.” I break off to cough and clear my throat.

“Are you okay?”

“Fine. Just wet. I was—doesn’t matter. What’s wrong?”

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