Page 66 of Kiss Me Like I Didn't Kill You
The sound of the engine fades, and the heavy front door clicks shut behind him.
Inside, the air is warm, faintly scented with cedar and something floral.
Someone’s clearly been ahead of us to prepare the place, floors polished, a bowl of fresh fruit on the table, even the heat left on low to chase away the mountain chill.
It feels cared for, but not lived in.
I shrug off my jacket and boots by the door, gather one of my bags, and climb the wide staircase to the room I always take when we stay here.
The others scatter, Adelaide vanishing toward her wing, Octavia dragging her suitcases up, and Piper slipping away in her usual quiet way, barely a sound as her door shuts behind her.
I drop the first of my bags onto the floor and roll my shoulders until the tension eases. The rest can wait.
The room is spacious, softly lit, with a king bed dressed in cream covers, a pair of bedside tables, a vanity, a generous wardrobe, and an ensuite tucked neatly to one side.
A hot shower is all I can think about.
I step into the bathroom and let the steam rise around me, washing the travel from my skin until the chill finally leaves my bones.
When I emerge, I pull on a pale lilac fleece bralette and matching shorts, topping it with a long cardigan that’s impossibly soft.
I wander into the closet and open a drawer, finding a pair of grey slippers I must’ve left here the last time we stayed.
I dry my hair and braid it down my back.
It takes me nearly half an hour to find my face cream and balm in the chaos of my luggage, my skin already feels dry and tight from the cold earlier, the mountain wind having stripped it of any moisture.
Once I’ve finally finished, I pad downstairs, my slippers whispering over the wooden steps.
The sound of voices greets me before I reach the bottom.
The main floor opens into a single, generous space, kitchen, dining, and living area all flowing together, the air far warmer than before. Someone must have turned the heating up to full.
Adelaide is at the fridge, barefoot, dressed in wide leg lounge trousers and a long sleeved crop top of deep emerald, the shade catching against her skin beautifully.
Piper and Octavia are crouched by the fireplace, apparently locked in debate over how to light it, both already changed into comfortable clothes.
Octavia’s also wearing a pair of absurd green elf slippers with curled toes.
When I step into the room, all three glance up.
Adelaide doesn’t bother speaking, simply continues rummaging through the fridge. I don’t ask what she’s attempting, experience tells me it’s better not to know.
The girl burns water. If she’s about to cook, we may well die of smoke inhalation before poisoning.
I glance back toward my sister and Piper, both frowning at the unlit hearth, and I can’t help the small smirk tugging at my mouth.
“You need wood to start a fire,” I say.
Octavia exhales, throwing me a look over her shoulder. “Thank you, genius. Whatever would we do without your endless wisdom?”
I shake my head, still smiling.
Piper pushes herself up from the floor, brushing ash from her hands. “Come on,” she says to Octavia. “Let’s find some wood before it gets too dark.”
They head for the door, bundling themselves into coats, hats, and gloves, boots thudding against the floorboards.
“Be careful,” I murmur as they step out.
