I glance at my phone one last time, then set it on the nightstand and turn off the screen, plunging myself into total darkness. My phone battery is only at seventeen percent, which is enough for right now, but I’ll have to figure out a way to charge it tomorrow if the power doesn’t come back on. I could sit in the car, at least, and juice it up that way.
I stare into the darkness and listen to the eerily quiet house. It’s funny how quietquietreally feels when all the background noises of a power-filled house are gone. No central heat. No hum of the refrigerator. Just the occasional creak of an old house.
Except—that sounds like more than a creak.
It sounds like footsteps.
My hands tighten around the covers as my heart starts pounding in my chest.
Has it been long enough that Noah would already be back inside? The footsteps sound heavy—like they belong to a man wearing boots. And…are they coming up the stairs?
It has to be Noah.
But what if it isn’t? What if it’s someone else entirely?
It takes about three seconds for my brain to imagine a hundred different scenarios, all ending with my ultimate demise before a knock finally sounds on my door.
“Megan?”
My shoulders relax as I take a relieved breath. It’s Noah.Of courseit’s Noah. “Hmmm?” Despite my certainty that there is not an ax murderer on the other side of the door, my voice still sounds strangled and cracked. I clear my throat and try again. “Yes?”
“I have wood,” Noah says, voice muffled.
I push up on my elbows, not sure I heard him right. “Um…you havewood?” I say through a giggle.
There’s a long pause before Noah says, “Very funny. Are we eighth graders now?”
“You started it,” I say as I toss my covers aside, sucking in a gasp as the quickly chilling air reaches my bare legs.
“I have split logs to build you a fire,” Noah says pointedly, though I can hear traces of humor in his tone. “You might get cold with the power out.”
After the way we parted a few hours ago, it’s nice that he’s here. Even nicer that he’s willing to joke with me.
I glance in the general direction of the fireplace. It’s too dark to see it, but I know it’s there. And a fire really would be nice.
“Just a sec!” I call, then I reach for my phone and turn on the flashlight one more time. I have a robe somewhere, and if I’m answering the door for Noah, I definitely need to find it.
It takes a minute. Apparently, I packed like a drunk chimpanzee because nothing is where it should be. After digging ineffectively for what feels like three hours, Noah’s boots scuff against the floor outside the door. “Everything okay?” he asks.
“Yes!” I call as I start tossing clothes out of my bag. “Just looking for—got it!” I grab the robe and shake it out with one hand, then toss my phone onto my bed so I can pull it on. The movement sends a sharp pain through my shoulder, and I suck in a gasp, then adjust and try again, being more careful. Something isn’t right—the robe is tugging in weird places—but I’ve already made Noah wait for too long, so I stumble my way toward the small beam of light shining under the door.
I bump my hip against a chair on the way, letting out a muffled“Ow,”but I arrive otherwise unscathed. I take a steadying breath before swinging the door open, but the extra oxygen does little good, so my heart is still racing when I look up to make eye contact with Noah.
He’s holding a small lantern, and it casts a circle of warm yellow light into my room.
“Hi,” I say as I take in his hulking, shadowy form. He’s fully dressed, still wearing his heavy winter coat, and his shoulders are dusted with snow. “Sorry. I was looking for my robe.”
His eyes drop to my body for the briefest moment, and I resist the urge to flinch. To tug my robe tighter or fold my arms around my middle. I might be wearing a lot less than I was the last time he saw me, but I’m still decent.
His mouth quirks up the slightest bit on one side, his eyes fixed somewhere on my midsection. “Good thing you found it.”
I look down and…oh, sheesh.My robe is on, but one side is completely twisted and the left arm is inside out.
“Wow,” I say. “I genuinely have no idea how I managed to get it this wrong.”
“It sounded like it hurt,” Noah says with something that sounds like concern.
“A little,” I say. “I wasn’t thinking about being careful. Just trying not to keep you waiting.”
