Page 34 of Montana Rain

Rayne

The snow in front of the truck felt like a tunnel we drove through, the veil pierced by Cole’s headlights. It was an easy distraction to look at and keep my mind busy, instead of circling the same path of thoughts over and over. Movement, dark, white, the occasional change of the wind’s direction.

I didn’t know how to feel.

So many things brewed beneath the surface, I felt blank.

Fear. Cold and pure. Never in my life had I experienced this kind of sustained terror. Determination. I wasn’t going to roll over and die because this had happened to me. I had a life I enjoyed. It wouldn’t be taken away from me because I’d been in the wrong place at the wrong time.

No.

Hesitation. Confusion. I didn’t know how to feel about staying with Cole in such close proximity. He wanted to help me. His plea earlier told me that. Nothing about what he said could be a lie. But I wouldn’t pretend this was going to be easy.

Cole got under my skin. He pushed my buttons on purpose. He made me want to tear off his clothes and do all the things I expressly told him we wouldn’t be doing.

If you ask, Rayne, I’ll give you everything.

I shivered, and it wasn’t because the truck was chilly, despite the heater trying its best. Because those words made me want things I couldn’t want. Damn him.

This would be like having your favorite cookies on a plate in front of you and being told you weren’t allowed to eat them. Because if you did eat them, your whole world would come crashing down around you and the cookies would get hurt and you wouldn’t be able to have them anymore.

Okay, that was a really bad metaphor, but I was exhausted, and I didn’t have the mental energy to make a better one. The point was, Cole and I would be in each other’s spaces, and my resolve was already flimsy at best.

The roads we traveled on up into the foothills of the mountains weren’t exactly good roads, only made worse by the snow. “You came all the way down here?”

I barely noticed saying it out loud until Cole responded. “Of course I did.”

“You…you don’t know me, Cole. We’ve kissed twice. Talked a little.” Or a lot, that first night at the bar. “But still, we’re practically strangers. Why?”

He was silent for a while before shifting in his seat. “I don’t know. I can’t explain it, Rayne. You don’t feel like a stranger to me. I want to know everything about you, even if it doesn’t lead anywhere. And all of that aside, I never would have left you alone. The fear in your voice…” He trailed off. “I’ll never forget it. It reminds me— I told you I would come if you called. And it’s still true. It’s not a promise I’ll take back.”

I didn’t know what it reminded him of, and now wasn’t the moment to ask him for deep personal information. Still, what he said pulled at my insides. I felt it too. Being with him in close quarters would only make it worse.

How bad could it be? the little voice inside whispered. Just a taste of happiness.

A different kind of fear gripped me. Older and deeper. The terror of knowing my choices were responsible for so much pain, including my own. I shut my eyes.

Finally, we pulled up to a cabin barely visible in the headlights and the swirling snow. Bigger than I expected and dark. But Cole was right. It certainly was off the grid.

He was out of the truck and opening my door before I could get myself together, and in the cold, his hands felt like raw fire. God, however long we were here was going to be impossible.

Grabbing my suitcase, he guided me inside and flipped on the lights.

I blinked. This wasn’t what I had expected when he described it as being in the middle of nowhere and a prepper’s paradise. It was…homey. A big, cushy couch and armchair in front of a huge fireplace, complete with a rug in front of it that looked incredibly soft.

The place was split-level, with an elevated area for the bed, and a door that must have led to the bathroom. A galley kitchen and dining table were to my left, and a desk sat in the far corner. All in all, it looked very comfortable. Other than its isolation, it could easily have been a vacation destination. “Wow.”

“Welcome to The Phillips Hotel. We just opened, so excuse any remaining mess. But I’m told we have a reputation for excellent hospitality.”

His smile told me he was trying to lighten the mood, but I wasn’t capable of laughter right now. It was close to five in the morning, and I dragged on my feet.

Cole set the suitcase down and started fastening the impressive display of locks on a front door that was seriously intense, the only visible sign the person who owned this place was on edge.

“The bathroom is there?” I asked.

“Yeah.”

I went straight to it and relieved myself before splashing water across my face. This cabin had power, and I didn’t hear the telltale whine of a generator in the background. Were there really power lines out this far?

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