Page 2 of Her Obsessed Lumberjack

“A corn maze that’s haunted.”

“Touche, kid.”

Chloe rolls her eyes, holding back a smile. “It’s just a fun Halloween attraction. Will you come? It will be just like that haunted house we used to go to back in Phoenix, remember?”

Memories flash through my mind of Chloe as a little girl dressed as a black cat, squealing with a mixture of terror and delight as we toured the haunted house. It was just some guy’s basement decked out with cheap decorations and a CD of spooky sounds playing in the background, but Chloe was always easy to please.

Where the hell did the time go?

The happy memory fades as quickly as it arrived, twisting into something dark and ugly.

Chloe’s hands tied with duct tape, eyes red from crying, mouth open in a muffled scream. She’s calling for me, but no sound can escape past the gag stuffed roughly into her mouth.

Fuck. Thanks to Trace, it didn’t happen that way, but it could have…it could have…

“Dad?”

I blink hard, my gaze refocusing on my daughter’s worried face.

“Sure,” I say, ruffling her hair to hide the way my hand is shaking. “I’ll come to the haunted corn maze with you.”

“Great!”

She throws her arms around me, her gaze lingering on the bags beneath my eyes as she pulls away. It’s obvious she’s worried about me. I’ve been isolating myself since arriving in Cherry Hollow, and Chloe is trying to get me out into the world, even if it’s only to a corn maze on the other side of town. Guilt stabs at my gut. I’m meant to be her parent—looking after her, protecting her, worrying about her. It’s not supposed to be the other way around.

“I better haul this wood back home,” I say, trying to sound nonchalant despite the lump in my throat.

“Okay. Trace and I will be here at eight to pick you up.”

“Sounds good, Coco.”

She hugs me again, tighter than before, then heads back through the trees. I turn away, but out of the corner of my eye, I spy her looking back at me a few times, like she’s worried I might disappear. Once she’s out of sight, I let out a deep sigh.

Dammit.

Clearly, I’m not doing a good enough job of pretending I’m okay.

2

FREYA

It’s a crisp fall evening,and I huddle closer to Margot as the rickety, horse-drawn wagon carries us to the haunted corn maze. Old-fashioned lanterns hang all around us, creating a passage of dim light as we near the giant stalks. An array of twinkling jack-o’-lanterns marks the entrance to the maze, their creepy pumpkin eyes glinting in the dark up ahead. A shiver runs down my spine, and I grin at Margot.

“This is going to be awesome.”

She raises an eyebrow, nodding her head toward the other people in the wagon. “You sure about that?”

I follow her gaze, looking around at the rest of our friends. They all brought their partners along, and each couple is currently taking advantage of the dark wagon ride to make out like horny teenagers.

Damn, this is definitely the start of a horror movie.

“We’ll still have fun,” I mutter, trying not to cringe when I hear a moan of pleasure from behind me. “It’s nearly Halloween! You need to get into the spooky spirit.”

Margot makes a reluctant sound. “Feels more like Valentine’s Day right now. Aka, the worst holiday of the year.”

I shake my head at her. My best friend isn’t much of a romantic. She’s sworn off guys forever, determined to stay single and protect her heart. I’m the opposite. It’s embarrassing how much time I spend daydreaming about being in love, and I can’t help but feel a twinge of jealousy at the sight of all my friends paired up. Seeing them happy is wonderful; I just wish some of that happiness would come my way.

I’d love to meet my perfect match, but I’m not the kind of girl that guys fall in love with. Never have been. I’m too excitable, too clingy, too emotional…too “much”. My hand absent-mindedly reaches for the necklace I’m wearing. It’s in the shape of half a heart, carved out of wood. My grandpa made it for my grandma back when they first met—she wore one half of the heart and he wore the other. They’re both gone now, but I still wear my grandma’s half, with my grandpa’s kept safely in a drawer in my bedroom. That’s the kind of love I dream about. I just hope it still exists.

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