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‘Okay, Vee,’ I say, giggling. ‘You win. I’ll sign the papersandI’ll finish my breakfast. But don’t think I’ll be won over this easily every time you decide to head off to the jungle.’
‘Wouldn’t dream of it,’ says Violet, handing me the pen. ‘You don’t have to read all the fine print if you can’t be bothered. I’ve had my lawyer check over it for you already. All seems legit.’
‘Oh well,’ I say, putting on a stupid posh voice, ‘normally I’d have my butler, Jeeves, look over the paperwork, but he’s awfully busy at the moment.’ I start to sign as Violet giggles.
I scrawl my signature on what must be at least thirty separate sheets of paper, and by the end, my wrist aches. Violet’s posture seems to soften when I hand the papers back to her. It’s as though she’s been holding her breath all this time and has just allowed herself to inhale again. That girl worries about me so freaking much. I can’t believe she’s so concerned aboutmewhen she’s the one heading off to the rainforest for half a year!
‘Now listen, sweetie,’ says Violet. ‘You can use my car while I’m away. Here’s the key. I’ve filled it up with gas, and I’ve punched the address you need to head to in the GPS. It’s a four-hour trip, and it gets a bit wild for the last hour or so. I’ve put air in the tires, and you should be fine, but any problems, call this number.’ She hands me a card with what I presume is a vehicle rescue number hand-written on it.
‘Thanks,’ I say, pocketing the card. And then I give Violet a long, warm hug. ‘Good luck,’ I tell her. ‘I’m going to miss you like crazy.’
‘Me too,’ she replies, a little muffled because she’s pressed against my shoulder. ‘You have no idea. Now go and get your things together. Don’t forget these papers you just signed. I don’t have long before I have to leave for my flight. And it’s best you travel while it’s light, too. Go on, girl. Go get ’em.’
Get who, Vee? The imaginary murderers who are after me?
I go to my room and get my things together, not forgetting to brush my teeth and grab my shampoo from the bathroom, then I take my stuff down to Violet’s car — or should I say, my car? It takes me a couple trips because of my sewing machine, but I manage to get the car all packed up and then find Violet. I hate saying goodbye, so I don’t draw it out too much. I simply give her a kiss on the cheek and she tells me she’ll be in touch when she can. Since she’ll be staying in the jungle, call phone reception will be… patchy, to say the least. But she’ll try to find an internet café or something.
I get into the car, reminding myself of where all the controls are. It’s been a while since I’ve driven this thing. In fact, it’s been a while since I’ve driven, period. Luckily, it’s like riding a bike, and I’mgoodat riding a bike. I start up the engine and head off on my journey.
On my way there, I try not to think about my sister leaving the country, or everything that’s gone wrong for me this year. I just focus on the roads and the trees and the buildings between the trees, which grow more and more spaced apart the farther out of the city I get. I take a deep breath, enjoying the country air. I can’t think how long it’s been since I went into the countryside. Too long, that’s for sure. I might have felt like I missed New York yesterday, but now I realize there’s something I’ve been missing all this time, even more deeply than New York — the mountains.
I follow the GPS instructions, just like Violet advised, and she wasn’t wrong. About three hours in, I come off the main road, and start winding farther and farther along dirt tracks, right into the middle of the forest. It’s one heck of an impressive forest too. Trees as tall as skyscrapers, or so it seems. Some with white bark and bountiful yellow leaves, others packed tight with green needles. So many different colors and textures, so much natural beauty to explore. The closer to nature I get, the more relaxed and uninhibited I start to feel.
The track is a little bumpy though, and more than once I worry that I’m going to get stuck in a pothole or on a fallen log, but eventually, after four hours in the driving seat, I spot something: a large, luxurious-looking wooden cabin between the pine trees.
It’s beautifully constructed out of timber and glass, with an apex roof and a gorgeous veranda. The wood is the color of warm honey, and it seems to glow in the late afternoon light.
My little slice of heaven for the next six months.
Shame there’s no hot tub on the porch, but hey, you can’t have everything.
I smirk. All that stuff about Denver not being safe for me must have been a ruse. Violet wanted to treat me to this. But she was embarrassed to just pay for me to stay here for six months outright. She had to invent some bizarro story about being in danger in order to convince me to accept her gift. Silly Violet. I’d have said yes to staying in a log cabin in the mountains at the drop of a hat.
I take off my seatbelt and jump out of the car, breathing in the forest air. Pine, menthol, tar, grass, earth. Perfect. Somehow, it’s like I’ve come home.
I head for the porch, hoping that there’ll be a key under a pot outside the door or something, but before I have the chance to start digging around looking, I hear the sound of the front door opening.
There, towering in front of me, is Mr. Man-Beast. He’s wearing camo shorts, a white tank top that shows off his enormous biceps and swirling black body ink, and a heavy scowl.
And I just can’t help it.
I begin to scream.
2
FINN
Dammit, she’s loud!
Her scream tears through the forest, louder than the shriek of an angry elk.
Fuck, little lady! You’ll scare all the wildlife away.
‘Addison, darlin’. It’s me. Remember? Finn Wilder.’
She remembers me alright. That much is obvious. She remembers me and she hates me.
It was obvious last night at that damn party. Fuck. I’m terrible at parties. I must have come across like a real asshole. But I had my reasons.
