Page 3 of Don't Make Me Fall
A photo appears on my screen with the caption:You should come visit sometime.
“Is something wrong?” Erin asks.
I slowly look up from the photo of a log cabin style lodge surrounded by autumn colors and the glow of a beautiful sunrise behind it and meet Erin’s gaze.
“How would you feel about Montana?”
“Montana?”
I turn the phone around to show the group of women the photo.
“Is that place real?” Stormi practically squeals. She’s always been more of a mountain girl than a beach girl. If I can just get everyone else on board?—
“My brother runs it,” I explain, already looking up flight itineraries to Bozeman. “And he owes me a favor. So what do you say?”
“What about Gwen?” Erin asks.
“That backstabbing bitch can show up to Cancun to find out the room reservations and all pre-planned activities have been cancelled. She won’t be able to get a hold of any of us, because we’re all blocking her.”
The group agrees in earnest.
I kneel in front of Erin and place a hand on her knee. “I’m so sorry this is happening to you, Erin. We’re here for you—all of us. So what do you say? Do you want to escape to the mountains for a few days?”
“Before the shit storm that’s headed your way,” Devin adds.
“Where no one will find us,” Stormi adds.
“And if they do, I still have that shovel?—”
“No, Gabby.”
“Suit yourself.”
“Everyone’s okay with this change of plans?” Erin, ever the one concerned about everyone else’s feelings before her own, asks. “I know it’s not the beach?—"
“Maybe not,” Gabby says. “But I guess it’ll keep us out of prison.”
For the first time this morning, Erin lets out a soft, genuine laugh. “Okay. Let’s go to Montana!”
Chapter Two
Hudson
I should be in bed, half asleep in nothing but my birthday suit with reruns of Breaking Bad play in the background.
I’m dead ass tired after the day I put in, first with helping Reid unload dozens of sheets of drywall to the shed all morning so he can use them on the honeymoon suite renovation this weekend. Second with leading a group of seven easily distractable tourists to Sunset Point who were more concerned with taking selfies along the trail than actually enjoying anything nature had to offer them.
Fucking social media and this society’s constant need for validation.
But instead of being halfway between drifting off to sleep and a good old fashioned wet dream, I’m back at the lodge waiting for the arrival of a group of women Reid booked last minute. He muttered something about a favor to his sister, but I was too irritated to hear anything he said aftercoming from Omaha.
More fucking city chicks.
Just what we need.
This isnotthe vision I had when Reid, Mason, and I bought the lodge together a year ago. But if we want to keep the doors open, especially through the upcoming winter season that’s only weeks away, beggars can’t be fucking choosers and all that.
At least they’re only staying through the long weekend.
