Page 22 of The Last Trip

“I hadn’t fallen asleep,” I argue.

He sighs. “We only have another day left, and I really want today to be about us after we’ve had so much going on the past two days. I know how important this trip was to you.” Watching me carefully for any sign that I might agree or change my mind, his eyes move across my face. When I don’t budge, when I refuse to give in, he finally drops his hands from my arms, returning to his mug on the counter. “But…if you want to leave, if it’ll make you feel better, we can go. We’ll just check out a day early. It’ll be fine.”

I nod, no need to think about my answer. “Yes. That’s what I want to do. I want to leave today. Right now.” I’m paranoid and exhausted, and I’ve never wanted anything more than I want to get out of this cabin and back home where I’m safe.

“Okay.” I can tell he’s not happy about it, but at least he’s agreeing. He pulls out his phone, but I stop him.

“What are you doing?”

“Uh, I’m going to call George and let him know we’re leaving early.”

“No, wait.” The words escape my lips like a runner after the starting gun has sounded.

His eyes jerk up to find mine. “What’s wrong? I need to let them know we’re leaving so they can keep an eye on the place and get it ready for the next guests. We can’t just leave. It’s common courtesy.”

“Of course. I’m just asking you to wait until after we’ve left to tell them we’re gone,” I say firmly. “We’ll pack up and get going, and then you can let them know. Once we’re safely away from here.”

“What do you think they’re going to do? Attack us? Come lock us in here?” At first, he’s teasing, obviously unafraid of what they might be capable of, but it quickly turns to frustration and disbelief. “For heaven’s sake, they walked out of here last night and every other time completely fine. They’re not monsters, woman. They’re just weirdos.”

I squeeze my eyes shut. “Please just do what I’m asking.”

When I look at him again, his eyes flick to my stomach. He puffs a breath of air between his lips, but eventually he nods. “Yeah. All right. I guess I’ll…start packing our bags, then.”

“Thank you.”

Leaving his coffee on the counter, he moves past me and into the bedroom without another word. I know he’s angry, and I can’t say that I blame him, but I need to trust my gut here, even if it’s probably wrong. They might not have done anything dangerous yet, but something about this couple makes me feel off. They’re watching me, watching us too closely. And the total disregard for our privacy last night was unacceptable. I didn’t expect to see the owners of the house even once during this trip, but we’ve already seen them three times. Actually, four if you count the time I saw them outside the window. And each time has somehow been progressively worse.

While he packs our bags, I set to work cleaning up the house. I put the remaining few dirty dishes in the dishwasher and wipe down the counter and microwave.

Suddenly, a worrying thought occurs to me. My eyes fall on the cabinet in front of the sink, and I bend down, opening the door slowly and peering around at the drain where George was looking last night. It’s ridiculous, of course, but is it possible he put a camera there? I move my hand around in the dark, fingers carefully gliding over the underside of the sink and along the back of the drain, jumping whenever I hit a bump or uneven spot.

Nothing.

Of course there’s nothing.

The theory was irrational. Even if they did know how to work the technology needed for hidden cameras, they wouldn’t have installed it in front of us, surely. We’d know where to look then.

Feeling foolish, I head for the bedroom, where I find Cal putting the last of his toiletries into his suitcase before he zips it up and does a final check of the bathroom.

“I think that’s the last of it,” he says when he returns, wiping a hand along his forehead. “Oh, phone chargers.” He zips past me to grab my phone charger from where it’s plugged into the wall, then collects his from the other side before shoving them both into my suitcase. Then he places his hands into his pockets. “So. Are you still sure about this?”

“Positive,” I tell him. “I’m not going to change my mind.”

“Okay, then. Everything’s packed, so we still need to clean up and?—”

“I cleaned everything up, so we just need to get the food from the fridge, and we’ll be ready to go.”

“Right.” He pulls his suitcase from the bed and rolls it out of the room. I grab my clothes from mine and change quickly as I do a final sweep of the bedroom before hauling my bag offthe bed and into the living room. Within an hour, our things have been cleared out of the house, and it’s as clean as when we arrived. We take out the trash and sweep the floors for good measure, though sweeping wasn’t listed on the required cleaning list stuck to the fridge.

Despite his obvious frustration with me, Cal refuses to let me carry my bag to the car. He leads me there first, holding on to my arm to keep me from slipping. Even when he’s annoyed with me, he wants to protect me. It’s probably the safest and most taken care of I’ve ever felt in a relationship. The kind of love where anger doesn’t surpass your overwhelming need to keep the other safe.

At my request, Cal waits until we’ve driven away from the house to send Norma and George a message about checking out early. Once the message has been sent, he wastes no time manually checking us out in the app.

Not even a minute has passed before his phone rings. My heart leaps into my throat at the thought of talking to them again, of facing them in any way. I can’t explain it other than to say I’m scared of them and what they might do, and they make me uncomfortable in the way they watch me so intently, like I’m something they’ve never seen before. As if I’m a celebrity or a UFO.

I could never explain that to Cal, though. As much as he’d try to understand, he just wouldn’t. Maybe no man ever could. I know we have similar conversations about why I lock doors the second I enter them and why I’m never okay standing outside of cars having a chat when we could just as easily be inside the car in safety.

It’s not paranoia if it’s necessary.

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