Page 8 of Whiteout

"How are you feeling? A little rough, I'd wager."

I nod, my throat too dry to speak. My eyes dart around the room, taking in the rustic cabin, the warm fire in the corner, and the comfortable bed.

"Here," he says, offering me a glass of water and a bottle of aspirin. "This will help."

I take the glass with a nod of thanks, downing the cool water in greedy gulps. It soothes my throat, and I feel a little more alive.

"Better?" Kris asks, his eyes holding a spark of amusement.

"I don't know what you find so funny, Kris. There's no way I should have a hangover like this. How did I even end up in your bed?" I ask, narrowing my eyes at him.

Kris leans against the door frame, his arms crossed, looking entirely too relaxed for my liking. "You were starting to pass out on the couch. I carried you in here so you'd be more comfortable."

"You only gave me two drinks, right? I shouldn't have been that drunk."

"Yes, Ivy, just two. I thought the same thing. But then again, I don't know your tolerance. You're a small woman and that bourbon is pretty strong."

I throw my hands up in exasperation. "So, I'm not crazy then? Something is definitely off here."

His face softens, and he steps closer, his expression turning sincere. "No, you're not crazy. I'm sorry if I gave you too much. I didn't mean for this to happen."

"It's fine, Kris. I'm fine." I take a deep breath, trying to shake off the lingering effects of the alcohol. "I just wantto get back to my cabin, if you can point me in the right direction. I desperately need a hot shower and a toothbrush."

Kris nods, "Of course. Let me just grab my coat, and I'll drive you down to your cabin. It's still snowing out there, so I haven't pulled your car out of the ditch yet."

As Kris turns to leave the room, I call out to him, "Hey, Kris?"

"Yeah?" He pauses, glancing back at me over his shoulder.

"Thank you."

Kris pulls his huge 4x4 truck into the driveway of my rental. "Do you want me to come in and start the fire for you?" he asks, his eyes scanning the exterior of the cabin. "It probably burnt out sometime in the middle of the night."

"If you wouldn't mind, that would be great."

As we step inside, my heart stops. The place is a mess. My suitcaseslay open and empty on the floor. My clothes that I had folded and neatly put away in the dresser before I left. are thrown everywhere. The kitchen cabinets hang open, their contents spilled across the counter.

"Oh my god," I gasp, my hand flying to my mouth.

Kris grabs my hand, pulling me behind him protectively. "Let me check the bathroom."

I watch as he cautiously moves through the rooms. Was I robbed? I touch my neck, realizing that the necklace I always wear is gone. I left it on the nightstand beside the bed before I left to go to Kris's house yesterday. I ran to the bed searching both the nightstands and the floor around the bed.

"My necklace... it's missing." My voice shakes as the realization sinks in. "It was a gift from my mother."

Kris frowns, "Keep looking, maybe it just fell under the bed or something. I'm going to take a look around outside just to be sure no one is out there."

I nod mutely, feeling vulnerable and violated. The idea of someone being in my space, touching my things, it's terrifying. I'm suddenly thankful that my car ran off the side of the road last night. What if I would have beenhere alone when they broke in?

Kris returns a few minutes later, "The lock on the back door is busted off. There isn't any way to fix it, I'll have to get a new lock and replace the door frame. It will be a few days before I'll have everything I need to fix it."

"What am I going to do? My necklace is gone, and..." My eyes fill with tears as the reality hits me. "Now the door can't be locked and I'm here all alone."

"Ivy, I want you to stay with me. You can't stay here alone, it isn't safe. I'd feel better knowing you're somewhere secure. Come back to my place with me. It's bigger, and I have the extra space. You can stay with me until I can fix the door and it can be locked."

I glance around the cabin, "But my podcast—"

"You can still record your podcast from my place."

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