Page 26 of Hunting Harbor

“Good,” I whisper. “I mean, I can’t wait.”

He leans over, his breath a whisper against my cheek, and I feel a strange thrill at being this isolated. At not caring. At wanting it this way.

The dirt road disappears into the trees, and the car devours the distance, consumes it as slowly as Kairo’s consuming me.

“There. Just up ahead.” He points, taking that dark gaze off of me for a moment, allowing me to suck air into my lungs.

It’s a monument to bad ideas. I see it from the last curve of the road, impossible to miss. Bigger than expected. Like my hope and my fear. The cabin sits at the edge of reason, and there’s no turning back. Nothing but trees and us, with silence more deafening than I can stand. I hold my breath. My breath holds me. We stop. No service. No neighbors. No exit. Just us.

Kairo looks at me like he’s won, like I’m the prize. “Well?” he asks.

It should sound simple, should be easy to answer, but my mind swirls with possibilities and warnings and words I never thought I’d say. I knew it would be remote. I knew it would be risky. I didn’t know how much I’d want it this way, how much I’d want to make all the bad decisions, all at once.

“Well?” he asks again, the edge of question slipping into something harder.

“It’s beautiful,” I say. “Isolated. Very...”

“Isolated,” he says with a smirk.

He seems pleased, the hunter who has brought home the biggest game. Getting out of the car, he heads around to the passenger side and opens my door. He takes my hand, and pulls.

He sucks me into his orbit, toward the cabin. “Come on, I’ll grab our stuff later,” he says. I come. I follow. I try to ignore how willingly.

The inside isn’t anything fancy, but more than I imagined, larger than any sense I might have left, in any case.

“It’s perfect,” I say, believing it, not believing it, unsure which one scares me more.

“Perfect for writing. It’s not much, but it’ll do,” he says, and the words coil around me, hold me in place. “Perfect for us. Right now, at least.”

The cabin envelops me. Kairo envelops me. I can’t tell which one is warmer. Which one is more dangerous.

The shadows of trees press close to the windows, dark shapes against the glass. I imagine Kairo standing at the edge of thewoods, watching for the perfect moment to strike. Watching for me. Tracking me. My breath catches, but he doesn’t notice. Or pretends not to.

He leads me through the rooms. Kitchen. Living room. Fireplace that promises heat, but not the kind that already burns me.

No neighbors.

No cell service.

No escape.

Not the way I thought, not at all.

We end the tour at a large bed. Only one.

“It’s yours,” he says, his words more a command than an offer. “I’ll take the couch.”

He knows my hesitation before I do.

He knows so much.

“Okay,” I say, the floor falling out beneath me. I want him to want me. I want him to take me, right now, right here, just like this. I need him to take my choice away from me because it’s all I can do to stop myself from running, screaming back to the car at the stupid, stupid decision I’ve made coming here.

And yet…

My desire won’t stop.

I won’t stop unless I confront what I want most.

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