Page 12 of Loud Unspoken Memories

He straightens. “Yeah. Sorry.”

It’s just beginning to get light outside. I check my phone. Still no bars. I go to the window and my heart sinks. There’s twice as much snow on his truck as there was last night. When I open the front door, a powdery drift falls inside and instantly starts melting on the floor near my feet.

Feeling defeated, I close the door and shuffle toward the bathroom. Dallas must have the same idea because we almost crash into each other. I hop back and motion to the door. “Go ahead.”

“It’s okay, you go.”

I chuckle. “I guess you’re not used to having a woman around. We tend to take our time in the bathroom. I’ll wait my turn.”

He doesn’t find my joke funny. In fact he looks upset by it. Jeez—touchy much?

“I’ll only be a minute. Then I’m going to head out to fix the cell tower.”

The door shuts. I hear the lid of the toilet echo as it hits the back of the commode. Then I hear him pee. There is definitely not much privacy here in this small cabin. The two-inch gapunder the bathroom door ensures anyone out here knows exactly what anyone in there is doing. I make a mental note to be sure he’s gathering wood when I need to do certain things.

He brushes his teeth, and I hear the faucet running for a while. He must be getting a drink of water. When the water shuts off, I hear him mumble, but I can’t quite tell what he says.

A moment later, the door opens.

I snort. “Not one for showers?”

He sits on the couch, pulls on heavy boots, and laces them. “Marti, I’m about to climb a tower and chisel off any built-up ice from the antennas. Believe me, I’ll need a shower when I return. No need to waste hot water.”

He grabs his coat and is headed for the front door when I look down at my phone, surprised at what I see.

“Yes!” I scream, holding up my phone like it’s a winning lottery ticket. “I have bars!”

He drops his head in relief, pivots, and sinks back down onto the couch. “That’s definitely a good thing. Because after getting so little sleep, I probably shouldn’t be climbinganything.”

He didn’t sleep? BecauseI’mhere? I guess if you’re a hermit living in the middle of nowhere, having another person around can really throw you off your game. Or maybe he has social anxiety and can’t function well around others. That and a million other questions about this mysterious mountain man lurk in my head. But I push them all aside, because I have to make a call.

“I need to call my son,” I say.

Dallas’s face pales. He stands, pinches the bridge of his nose, then puts his coat on and goes for the door. “I’ll give you some privacy then. And I’ll call for a tow.”

“Thanks.”

First things first, I think as soon as he’s outside. I need to talk to Charlie and Anita, but my bladder is screaming tobe emptied. I spin around and go into the bathroom, making quick work of using the toilet and washing my hands. Seeing his toothbrush reminds me that I don’t have one. I don’t have anything. All my stuff is in the trunk of my car. But with any luck, the car will get towed shortly and I’ll be on my way to Charlie.

I squirt some toothpaste onto my finger and rub it over my teeth then rinse. Looking in the mirror, I realize I desperately need a shower. I drove all through that first night, so it’s been a minute since my last one. My gaze shifts to a shelf where there are lots of amazing hair products. My stomach flutters just thinking about him running his hands through his hair. I’ve never been a big fan of men with long hair, so why I’m having this visceral reaction is quite confusing.

My phone makes pinging noise after pinging noise. Texts and voicemails are finally coming through. Most are from my brother. Asher has been worried about me as I didn’t arrive at Anita’s, nor did I check in. One is from Bug, telling me her dad is freaking the fuck out.

I won’t tell him his twelve-year-old used the word fuck. She’s at that awkward tween stage where she’s more than a kid but not quite an adult, and when I think about our relationship, she’s more like a sister than a niece.

I scroll through my contacts and find Anita’s number. I sigh. What she must be going through. I’m devastated over Charles’s death. He was my best friend and my son’s father. But Anita was his wife. When we last talked, early yesterday, she barely had a voice left after all the crying. Selfishly, I’ve wondered if she’s even been able to console Charlie.

I press her number and she answers quickly. “Marti! Where are you? Everyone has been worried sick.”

“Sorry about that. I’m okay. But my car isn’t. It’s wrapped around a tree. There was a storm and cell service was down and this guy found me and let me crash at his cabin and—”

“Wait, what? Slow down. You got in an accident? What guy?”

“I’ll explain it all when I get there. We have a tow truck on the way. I should be there later tonight. More importantly, how are you? And how’s Charlie?”

“Charlie’s okay. He knows something’s up because I’m not my usual self, but I didn’t think it was my place to tell him. My parents and cousins have been keeping him busy.”

“And you? How are you holding up?”

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