Page 8 of Unbearable

“Thank you. I appreciate it.” I gave him a flat smile.

This was the peculiar charm of small towns. Even after years of frequenting the same Seattle café, the baristas never bothered to learn my name, though it was scrawled on my cup daily.

I went to sit down at a table and couldn’t help but take in the rustic charm that made up this town. The wooden tables were filled with locals, all chatting over steaming cups of coffee as the sunlight streamed through the large windows.

Aiden expertly prepared my latte. His movements were fluid and practiced. The sound of milk being frothed echoed through the café, acting as white noise in my brain, drowning out all possible thoughts.

As I admired a piece of art, I heard the bell jingle above the door as two people walked in. The sound of heeled footsteps echoed through the café.

I turned and groaned at the sight of the two people who had entered. She had a phone to her ear. “I don’t care what needs to be done. You work for me. Get it done.” She hung up and approached the counter, waving a five-dollar bill, despite both Aiden and Thomas being occupied with other tasks. She flipped her bleach-blond hair over her shoulder and cleared her throat. “Uh, hello. Paying customer over here,” she said, continuing to wave the bill in the air.

“One moment, please,” Aiden called out.

“We don’t have a moment. Two large peppermint teas. Not too hot, or I’ll take back my tip.” She left her money on the counter and stepped back, completely unaware of her surroundings, her attention completely absorbed by her phone. After running into a table and nearly ignoring the man with her, she looked up and spotted me.

“Dorothea James. I didn’t know you were in town. This is my husband, Garrett. You guys remember each other, no?” she asked, her gum smacking so loudly it made me want to do anything but be near her.

“Hi, Joanie. Garrett.” I nodded. “Nice to see you too.” Although, I probably could have done without seeing her during my stay in Woodstone.

Joanie was one of the many girls who had been nothing but mean to me growing up. I grew up with Garrett but didn’t know him well other than remembering he wasfairly quiet. I guess opposites attract. He smiled and let his wife do the talking.

“I’m surprised you decided to come back. I thought you were too good for this town these days.” She let out a sinister chuckle.

“Don’t worry. I will be out of your hair soon enough,” I said, giving her a flat smile as Aiden called out my name.

“Here you are, sweetheart,” Aiden said, placing my cup on the counter. “Please come back to see us soon.”

I took a sip and reveled in how he managed to make the best latte I’d tasted in ages. “Oh, trust me, I will.” I held up my drink and nodded. “Thank you again. I will see you both soon.” Thomas gave me a smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

“Joanie, Garrett,” I said as I headed back through the door.

The cabin was located a few miles outside of Woodstone Falls, nestled in the embrace of the surrounding forest. The trees, already tinged with the fiery colors of early autumn, lined the narrow, winding road leading to the outskirts of town. It was almost too cold to drive with the windows down, but not quite. The crisp September air brushed against my skin.

My phone rang, and I glanced at the screen to see it was Noah calling. “Hi, Noah.” My smile came through in my voice.

“Hey, pretty lady. It’s been forty-eight hours, and I haven’t heard from you. I needed proof of life.” Her voice was warm and teasing.

We had met during our freshman year of collegewhen we shared a dorm room and had been inseparable ever since. Noah, with her dark curly hair, sparkling green eyes, and a laugh that could brighten the darkest of days, was everything and more I could ask for in a friend.

Before her, my track record for friends was less than stellar, but she made up for it in spades. We typically never went more than a few hours without talking, but with traveling home and the funeral, I had been disassociating from reality.

“I’m sorry. Everything has been chaotic. I’ve been on autopilot, and I’m just now breathing for the first time this week,” I sighed into the phone.

“It’s okay, I get it. How are you holding up? Any new notes, or does Mister Creeper not know of your new location?” Her concern was evident.

“I’m okay. I’m driving to the cabin Grandpa left me right now, actually. And no new notes. It’s been a while now, longer than usual without getting anything, but I’ll take that as a win,” I replied.

Shortly after starting college, I began receiving various presents, accompanied by notes.

Initially, it felt charming, almost as if I had a secret admirer. White lilies would arrive with messages:I hope you have the best day, orYou are so beautiful.

At first, they arrived sporadically—sometimes once a month, other times weekly—and seemed harmless. However, over time, the notes grew increasingly unsettling, with messages that readYou look good in that blue sweaterorDo you miss me?

I consistently filed reports with the police, but they never led to any action. They assured me there was no major cause for concern, so they couldn’t spare theresources to investigate further. While largely harmless, the notes undeniably made my skin crawl.

“Wait, back up. He left you the cabin? Does that mean you’re staying longer than a week?” she asked as I navigated the winding roads.

“Yes, and sadly, yes. I’ll probably be here my whole vacation time now, unfortunately. It’s been unoccupied for years, so I really don’t know what kind of condition it is in or what I am walking into.” My voice wavered.

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