Page 9 of Stranded

“Oh. My. God!” she screams so loud it feels like my eardrum is about to rupture. “What the hell is going on with you, girl? One minute, you’re calling me and leaving a voicemail about dumping Preston, and the next, your number is out of service!”

I hadn’t realized the extent of my isolation until this moment. But instead of feeling panic at being cut off, I feel a strange sense of calm. Maddox’s world is dangerous and unknown, but somehow, feels like home.

“Yeah, things have been complicated. I’m in Alaska for the holidays. The service is patchy.” I reply.

There’s a long pause. Then, an uncertain, “Are you okay, babe?”

“I’m more than okay,” I tell her, my gaze shifting toward the window and the dark woods. Toward Maddox. “In fact, I’ve never felt more alive.”

“Good for you. I’ve got to admit, I never liked that douchebag, Preston.”

I smile as I know she warned me about him years ago. I should have listened, but I was blinded by everyone thinking we were the perfect power couple.

Pathetic.

“Neither did I, Aliyah. I was trying to convince myself that I was content. But now, I’ve awoken from a long, meaningless dream.”

“But, Alaska? Really?” Her voice pulls me back. “You could have at least taken your best friend with you.”

I laugh. “As if your mom would let you go away at Christmas.”

“I’m surprised yours has.”

I swallow hard as it’s not like she allowed me. “I told her I was going, and that was that. The place was booked for me and Preston, so why waste it?” I ask.

“Fair enough,” she says.

“Are you back in Maine?” I ask. Aliyah’s parents live in Maine in a similarly beautiful place. Rustic and rugged, even if they’re anything but. Her father is a big-time businessman and is always traveling. I wonder how her mom mostly copes alone, as it’s quiet where they live.

“Yeah, I’m back home,” Aliyah confirms, a soft sigh slipping past her lips. The sound is muffled, drowned out by the incessant hum of the heater in the background. “It’s quiet here, too quiet. You know how it is when my dad’s away, and Mom gets lost in gardening. It’s like I’m living with a couple of ghosts.” Her laughter rings hollow. “But my cousins will be arriving soon. Are you sure you’re okay? Alone in the wilderness, it sounds like a plot out of a horror movie.”

“Aliyah, I’m not alone,” I find myself saying. My voice takes on a strange tone. “I’ve got the wilderness to keep me company. You have no idea how chatty the trees can be.” I laugh, which feels out of place in the silence. “And my host doesn’t live far if there are any problems.”

“I’m serious. You need to be careful out there,” she warns. “You know how unpredictable the weather can get, especially in winter.”

“Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.” I assure her. Aliyah doesn’t know about Maddox, and I don’t want to tell her. As I know that she’ll think I’m crazy. After all, he had his cock out when we met and has watched me every night, lurking by the window wearing a mask. I can’t believe how hot that is.

“Okay, stay safe. I’ll try and get through to you Christmas Day. But, if I can’t, Merry Christmas, Ivy.”

I smile as the likelihood of her getting through is slim. This is the first time my cell has had service in four days. “You too, have a wonderful time.” I end the call, putting my cell phone down.

I notice all the alerts. Aliyah has tried to ring me six times, but I have Seven missed calls from Preston and another four from Mom.And a voicemail from Preston. I glare at it and wonder whether to listen, caving and pressing play.

“Ivy, I know you’re pissed at me, but please can we talk about this. Let me know where this cabin in Alaska is and I’ll be there to straighten everything out. I love you.” He cuts off the voicemail there.

I scoff, shaking my head. Preston doesn’t love me. You don’t cheat on someone you love. And it took him cheating to make me realize I don’t love him either.

The cell service remains and I wonder whether or not to call my mom. After all, she’ll want to know I got to my destination safely. So, I press her name and put her on loudspeaker as I tap my foot nervously on the wooden floor.

After three dial tones, she picks up.

“Hi, Mom,” I say, trying to sound cheery.

“Ivy, why are you ignoring Preston’s voicemails?”

No, hello, or how are you. My mom is always straight to the point. “I’m fine, thanks. How are you?”

She huffs on the other end. “You can’t ignore Preston forever.”

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