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I keep pushing on, hoping that when I find this cabin, I find her. No one understands how horrible my life became the moment Savannah died.
When I found out she was alive and not dead, I knew what I had to do. At first I didn’t want to believe it. I wanted to pretend I hadn’t just heard the worst news of my life. I felt empty, heartbroken, afraid. I couldn’t handle all the feelings as they washed over me.
The next few years were a blur of drunken memories. Gambling. Getting myself into debt with one of the worst mobsters in the world. Bishop Blackstone.
None of that matters right now. I need to find her.
Which is what I’m doing. I need to see her, touch her. Know that she’s actually safe and not buried six feet under. The hike will be well worth it.
After another half hour of nothing but twigs snapping beneath me, birds chirping, and the sound of my own voice in my head, I see a clearing. It’s not big, but it may lead me to where I need to be. My tired feet pick up the pace and I stop just before stepping through. I check to make sure no one’s there. When I feel confident I follow the long path. It ends quickly with more trees.
“Fuck this.” The sun bounces off something and hits me in the eyes. I move forward and a few yards away I see a cabin.
It’s just sitting there. My heartbeat hammers inside my chest.
The cabin is made out of white oak, with a large front porch. There’s one lonely rocking chair sitting out on it, and it pains me to think of how many years Savannah has sat on this front porch looking out, unable to live the life she deserved.
I rush to the door, but once I get there, I'm not sure what to do. Knock and risk getting my head blown off. Open the door and risk the same. I figure knock and open the door. I do that and step inside. The sound of a gun cocking stops me dead in my tracks.
“Ronin?”
The soft voice of Savannah makes me spin around. She’s standing there with a rifle pointed at me, fat tears running down her beautiful face. I rush over and push the gun down to face the floor.
“Savannah, give me the gun,” I whisper, unable to even catch my breath properly. She looks the same, yet so completely different.
She lets go and I put the safety on, and lean it against the wall. Her big honeyed eyes gaze at me like she can’t believe I’m actually here.
I can’t believe I am either.
We stare at each other for a minute before I step closer. “It’s just me, sweetheart.”
As I say the words, she falls into my arms and I hold her tight. She’s trembling and I’m not sure if it’s from crying or from fear. Her hold on me is just as tight, like she’s afraid to let go. I’m so relieved she’s alive. A single tear rolls down my cheek.
“How’d you find me?” she asks, not letting go.
“It wasn’t easy,” I say, placing a kiss on her head. “You want to tell me what the hell you and Clementine are doing? Why did you fake your own death?”
She pulls away and runs into the bathroom.
Her cabin isn’t as bad as one might expect from a cabin in the woods. Someone paid a lot of money to hide Savannah here.
Just as I’m about to knock on the bathroom door, she steps out. “I’m sorry, I just needed a minute.”
“I guess me showing up is a lot to take in,” I say, knowing exactly how she’s feeling.
“Yeah, something like that,” she whispers. “Would you like a drink? Water?”
“Water would be great.”
We go into the kitchen, and I graze my hand over the expensive marble countertop.
She hands me a bottle and I follow her into the living room, letting her take a seat on the oversized beige sofa.
“Talk to me, Savannah,” I gently urge.
Her sad eyes once again fill with tears. “I don’t know where to even start.”
I reach over and grab her hand, holding it in mine. My thumb draws small circles as I try to get her to relax and trust me. “How about you tell me why you’re here? Why does everyone think you’re dead?”
