Page 14 of Fall I Want
After it is delivered, my cell service drops.
Shit.
As I hold my phone up to the sky, I step out from the overhead canopy and search for one bar. When I look up over the peak, dark clouds move in. Random storms aren’t uncommon at this altitude and I’ve been rained on more times than I can count, but this wasn’t predicted. I have no rain gear with me.
Double shit.
Thunder roars in the distance and I look down at my watch. Sunset is in three hours. Sprinkles fall and I have one minute to decide. I can head down the mountain right now and potentially get soaked or wait it out on the porch of the house for thirty minutes.
I choose the less risky option because the last thing I need is to chafe.
The house sits in a clearing of bright green Bermuda that’s mowed like a golf course. It has the best view of the gondolas and ski resort, and I stroll down the paved driveway that circles to the back of the house. My heart rate is calm as I cross the soft grass and take the wide cement steps. The gaslit lanterns flicker, and the moment I’m under the covered porch, the bottom falls out of the sky.
Calmly, I reach for the doorknob I’ve twisted countless times over the years. When I turn it, the latch clicks and my adrenaline spikes. I stand frozen in place.
Then I glance around, searching for cameras just to make sure nothing has been installed. I suck in a deep breath, knowing that I have to enter or curiosity will haunt me for the rest of my life.
I shouldn’t. I know I shouldn’t.
Every warning bell blares in my head, but I ignore them. After adeep breath, I slowly open the door and enter. A gasp escapes me as I look up at the tall, dark ceilings and long windows that line the fifteen-foot walls. Sunrays float across the wooden floor as rain splashes against the glass. A sweet cinnamon aroma fills the space and I don’t know what I expected to find here. Maybe a pile of skeletons? Regardless, it wasn’t this.
I tiptoe and laugh at myself, moving to a normal stride. It’s so quiet my ears ring from the silence. If I yelled, my voice would echo back. Vintage images of the moon and stars are hung on the gray walls, a dark chandelier hangs from above, and I look up at the black marble staircase that belongs in a palace.
I take my phone from my pocket and snap a picture because Julie will never believe me. I make my way to the second floor, noticing the intricate embellishments carved into the handrail. At the top, I look both ways down a long, wide hallway with more chandeliers and more tall windows.
I take pause, staring outside, noticing the view.
“Wow,” I whisper.
Several closed doors pique my interest, so I start at the opposite end. I reach for the handle and enter a magnificent room full of bookshelves filled from ceiling to floor. To my right is a light switch and I flick it. Dim golden yellow light splashes across the space. It reminds me of the New York Public Library with its dark wooden walls and shelves.
On one side is a gigantic fireplace and a comfy couch.
I walk to the shelf closest to me and my eyes scan up and down the spines. Many are classics, and the genres range from fairy tales to horror.
“Who do you belong to?” I whisper, moving around the perimeter, wanting to read every title and mentally catalog each one.
It’s a collector’s haven. A secret special edition collection hidden inside of a haunted house. It’s a perfect space.
As I move forward, a firm hand grasps my wrist, pulling me backward and adding enough pressure to keep me locked in place.
I don’t struggle. I’ve learned to stay calm in situations like this, but my mind is a tangled mess. This is a worst-case scenario, and the only person who remotely knows where I am is Julie. Maybe she will call the police when she hasn’t heard from me in three hours.
“What in the fuck are you doing here?” The deep growl is low in my ear. I can’t see behind me, but I also don’t look.
“I’m sorry.” I keep my voice flat.
“Explain yourself,” he growls, and I understand how dangerous this is. But his scent surrounds me and he smells so damn good, like fresh mountain air. Only fuckboys smell like this.
“I was curious and the door—”
“Why are you here?” Now he’s angry.
My breath hitches and he finally lets me go. Seconds later, I pull the bear spray from the pack around my waist and unarm the safety. When I turn, I hold the can upward and meet Alex’s deep blue eyes.
He crosses his arms over his broad chest, almost daring me to discharge.
My mouth slightly parts, but I can’t find the words to speak. His presence sucks the air from the room, especially from my lungs.
