Page 8 of Twins for the Mountain Daddies

She nods but doesn't speak. She steps out, slipping slightly before catching herself. I follow, standing guard as she approaches the mailbox. It's leaning, almost defeated by the weather or time. She squints at the numbers hanging on for dear life. Worry etches deeper lines in her otherwise smooth brow. She bites her lip, then trudges up to the porch and punches a code into the lockbox with what must be numb fingers.

I snag the key that it reveals and push open the door. It moans on its hinges, a sound that sets my teeth on edge. The city girl hovers close behind me, her breath coming out in puffs of white vapor.

"Jesus," I mutter under my breath.

It’s even worse on the inside.

The air is frigid, stale, and heavy with the scent of neglect. Roaches scatter across the floorboards as we step inside, and I can hear the skittering of rats somewhere in the shadows. A shiver runs down my spine—not from the cold, but disgust.

The place looks like nobody's cared for it in years. There's a layer of dust on every surface, and stains I don't want to think about are smeared across the walls. The furniture is sparse and decrepit; cushions torn, stuffing spilling out like innards.

City girl stands frozen, fretting, looking on the verge of freaking out. Her chest heaves, each panicked breath fogging up the frigid air. She’s rooted to the spot, eyes darting around the dismal cabin like she’s hoping it’ll morph into something livable if she just stares hard enough.

But it won’t.

The place looks more like a damn flop house than a rental, and it’s just as cold inside as it is out. So, no heat. And, no heat means no phone lines.

“No way,” I say, firmly.

She startles, her wide eyes snapping to mine. Then she starts babbling about mix-ups, refunds, how this can’t be right. But there’s nothing to be done about it now.

"Come on." My decision is made, instincts kicking in against the darkening sky outside. “Back to my place. You can make your calls there.”

"Your place?" There's a hitch in her voice, a tremble that doesn't quite mask the hope that flickers behind her doubt.

"Storm's rolling in fast." I glance out the cracked window at the gathering clouds, thick and heavy with the promise of even more snow. "Might get socked in for a few days, maybe more." I know it's not what she wants to hear, but better she knows upfront.

"Stuck? With you?" It's a whisper, almost lost in the creaking complaints of the dilapidated cabin.

"Only if you want to stay warm," I say. The offer hangs between us, a lifeline thrown across the widening gap of her uncertainty.

"Okay." She nods, just once, but it's enough. Enough for me to lead her back into the winter chill, away from the disaster that was supposed to be her sanctuary.

This is a terrible fucking idea. But I can’t stop myself from helping her. It’s that or leave her here to freeze to death. I can’t live with that on my conscience.

Yeah, this is a terrible fucking idea.

But as I watch her shiver, watch the last bit of fight drain from her shoulders, I know there was never another option.

Chapter 4

Ivy

The door of the truck slams shut, cutting off the howl of the wind. I slide into the passenger seat, warmth from the heater brushing my cheeks. I glance over at him. "I'm Ivy," I say, a little louder than necessary.

He turns the key in the ignition, and the engine grumbles to life. "Hank," is all he offers, his voice a low rumble.

We sit in silence as the truck lurches forward. Snowflakes pelt the windshield, the wipers fighting a losing battle against the relentless storm. The cabin feels tight with unsaid words, the space between us charged with a quiet energy.

"Thank you," I start again, "for stopping. For…all of this." My voice sounds small against the creak of the tires on the snow-packed roads.

"You needed help." It's like pulling teeth, getting words out of him. But they're enough.

Outside, the world is a blur of white. Trees bend, branches heavy with snow. It’s amazing how fast it’s piling up.

"Bad storm," I murmur, more to myself than to Hank.

"Yep."

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