Page 36 of Under Fyre

What’s stopping me?

Nothing. No one.

Still…I hesitate.

If I was crossing a line before, I don’t even know what I can classify this as.

One thing is certain. If I move up my timeline, then we can’t stay here. I need to know that, if she decides to run again, she’ll have nowhere to go.

“Are you ready to go hunting?” I ask Arrow.

My Labrador lifts her dark head, watching me intently from across the room.

I stroke my jaw, my eyes becoming unfocused. “I know I am.”

Chapter Seventeen

Charlotte

I’m…excited. At least, that’s what I’m calling the nervous anticipation shivering through me.

When Fyre told us about his cabin in the woods back in therapy class, I’d had such ridiculously romantic notions about it. I imagined the two of us cuddling in front of the fire, wine in our hands, ruby liquid swilling up the sides as we kiss. Making love on a fur rug while the fire bathed our bodies in orange hues. Snow pattering gently against the windowpane while we warm each other with friction, passion...love.

This place isn’t anything like I thought it would be.

It’s tiny. Almost claustrophobic-looking. And we haven’t even gone inside. The drive here took hours, and most of it was over dirt tracks muddy where the snow had melted.

But God, itisbeautiful out here. Pine forests giving way to jagged, craggy cliffs. The sound of nature pressing against the car every time we had to make a stop. Usually because Arrow had to pee.

I almost expected Fyre to put his dog in the back of his truck, but I suppose she would have frozen her tail off. Instead, she rode upfront, a furry buffer between us.

It was kind of nice having a warm body to ward off the cold, but we had to roll down the windows every time she farted, and then she’d look us like we were mad for letting in the icy air.

“Let’s get inside,” Fyre calls out, cocking his head toward the cabin.

It’s almost full night. Two spotlights illuminate several yards of the front of the property, and a good portion of the cabin itself.

At least it’s in good repair—the logs are all varnished and shiny, what little I can see of the roof that hasn’t been snowed under looks almost brand-new.

What worries me is that I haven’t seen another house since we turned off the interstate—and that was over an hour ago.

I don’t know why the remoteness of this cabin worries me so much. I’ve always craved isolation. But maybe it’s the thought that, should something go wrong, there’d be no one to turn to for help.

Fyre opens the door, not even looking back to see if I’ll follow or not.

Where would I run?

* * *

A loudpopmakes my eyes spring open. I’m staring up at a log ceiling, a chandelier of deer horns and orange bulbs hanging from the cross beams.

Where the hell am I?

Oh, right. Fyre’s cabin in the middle of fucking nowhere.

I’m powerless against a sudden rush of panic.

Hands fisting in the sheets, I scan the claustrophobic room. The massive king-size bed fills most of the space. What’s left is taken up by a large, freestanding closet made of dark wood. Beside it, a desk. The slim laptop computer seems incongruous against all the natural textures surrounding it.

---