“Before my parents died, they would throw a huge party every year. They’d invite all my friends and their parents up to the cottage for the weekend, or the weekend after if it fell midweek.
“My friends and I spent the whole time playing Home or Kick the Can or telling stories around the campfire. We’d blast music and dance around the fire, singing. Once we were all teenagers, our parents would bring booze for us. They said we’d do it anyway so at least if they brought it, they could make sure we were safe.” I smiled at the memories.
“As I got older, my friend group shrank and my parents stopped coming ’cause I just wanted to hang out with friends.” My smile turned sad. “I wish I hadn’t left them out, even if it was only three birthdays. The last year before my dad died I did a weekend with a few of the girls from the hospital, then one with my parents. I’m glad I did. It was the last birthday I got to celebrate with them, I don’t think I would have forgiven myself if I hadn’t.” My voice dropped. “He died less than two weeks later.”
“What happened?”
“The other guy fell asleep behind the wheel and ran a red light. They were both DOA.”
“How do they know the other guy fell asleep?”
“His passenger survived. She panicked, trying to turn the wheel. Ended up making it worse for my dad but it saved herlife. If they’d been coming from the other direction, he probably would have lived.”
Austin gently ran his thumb over my thigh.
“Sometimes I wonder what I did to deserve this kind of luck. I mean, seriously, what are the odds of my parents dying exactly six months apart?”
“Exactly?”
“Yeah. Dad was September 8th. Mum was March 8th.”
“That’s… Huh.”
I focused back on the road. We were only two minutes away. I turned right onto a dirt road. There were three cottages along here. Each of the owners took turns paying for a plow to come. I was grateful they all used theirs in the winter as well or I would have been out a ton.
I slowed the car to a crawl. It was plowed, but other than that, the road was mostly unkept. Rocks, potholes, slush. I didn’t love driving an SUV in the city, but it was better for these conditions.
I made my way to the end, turned left, and eased my car up the hill, winding my way over the gravel driveway. I parked a few feet from the cottage and smiled over at Austin.
“Welcome to my favourite place on Earth.”
28
THE VILLAIN
Violet was beamingwhile I took in the view. Her cottage was at the top of a hill, overlooking a small lake. It was made entirely of logs and windows—two stories with an A-frame. It was pretty big, not as big as the one I spent my summers in with Eva, but it was far from a tiny cabin in the woods. Snow-covered grass surrounded us—two hundred metres in every direction to the forest line. The hill was about three hundred metres, on a sixty-degree angle down to the frozen lake.
It was a beautiful spot.
I grabbed our bags while she went around to the lake-facing side and unlocked the door. By the time I walked in, she was sitting on the couch in the living room with her feet propped up on the coffee table, remote in hand to open the two-story blinds.
“Fancy,” I observed, taking in everything.
To my right, the living room had two leather recliners with their backs to the brick fireplace. One was angled to the windows, one to the back where the bedrooms were. There were also two matching love seats facing the fireplace on the same angles. A rustic, barn-style coffee table sat in the middle of the room, decorated with four different three-wick candles, marble coasters, and a couple books neatly stacked in the middle.
To my left was the kitchen. One of those modern designs with the fridge built into the cabinets—at least I assumed because I didn’t see a fridge. The kitchen was fully functioning, it was separated from the living room by an island that held a sink and a marble countertop with four bar stools tucked under it. The front had white cabinets above and below that same grey and white marble countertop. There was another sink—this one was a double—set up under a large window that stretched to the crown molding. The far wall had the same cabinets above and below the counter, which cut off about mid-way up the wall, where a floor to ceiling cabinet.
Straight ahead there were two open doors. On the left was a bedroom; the right was a bath. I couldn’t see any stairs from where I was standing but there was a hall by the kitchen. They were probably hiding that way.
The second story hall was in line with the hall down here. Black metal railing overlooked the living room and kitchen. There were three doors that I could see, but nothing beyond that.
“I’m sure it’s nothing compared to what you’re used to, Mr. Old Money,” she teased.
I rolled my eyes, choosing not to engage. “Where do you want the bags?”
She hopped off the couch, leaving the remote for the blinds on top of her book stack.
“Follow me.”
