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“Ooh,” Janey sighs in relief as I cover more and more spots. But pouting, she adds, “I’m going to be a monster at the wedding, though Paisley will probably prefer that.” There’s a bitterness to her tone that’s unlike her usually sunny outlook. But a moment later, she corrects herself. “Paisley likes to be the center of attention, the prettiest girl in the room, and if there’s a day where that should always be the case, it’s your wedding day. What I look like won’t matter.”
I have no idea what Cousin Paisley looks like, but I can’t imagine that she’s prettier than Janey. Paisley could be a damn runway model and I think Janey would still come out on top of that competition. Janey’s... interesting. Her looks, her always running mouth, and her mind. She’s more than the sum of her parts, even though those parts are pretty damn good all by themselves.
“It’ll be fine by then. Don’t worry. And you could never be a monster.”
She gasps softly, and I jerk my eyes up, looking for what caused her reaction. But then I realize she’s simply been watching my every move and expression while I put the calamine on her back. “Thank you,” she whispers.
The moment stretches, us staring into each other’s eyes in the mirror with my hand frozen on her back. “No problem,” I answer, pretending to spread one last dollop of lotion simply because I don’t want to stop touching her.
What the fuck is going on with me?
CHAPTER5
JANEY
It’s been days.Basically all week, if I’m truthful. I’ve slept in, watched the trees sway in dawning sunlight, finished a book from my TBR list, and enjoyed my own company all day. It’s a luxury I don’t think I would’ve ever gifted myself, so I’m grateful it was essentially forced upon me.
I haven’t talked to Henry much, but that’s not unusual when he’s head-down in a problem, searching out a solution. He gets a little obsessive with a puzzle to solve, and I’m glad he’s working so hard to finish in time to still make something out of our vacation.
Henry should be here today. In fact, he should be making the trek from town to the cabin right now, and I’ve already made the most of my last few hours of solitude by pampering myself with a face mask, a strawberry apricot Red Bull, and another book. It’s a good one, too, and I’ve really chewed through a bunch of it in the peaceful solitude.
You haven’t been totally alone.
Granted, Cole is gone for hours at a time, off to spy on Mr. Webster, but when he comes back to the cabin every evening, we have dinner together, then sit and watch the moon rise high into the sky. And we talk.
Well, I talk and he mostly listens. But it’s been fun, especially given that for not-speaking, he’s more engaged than anyone else.
You mean Henry.
Okay, I’ll admit that... to myself only. But that’s what makes this week all the more interesting. The stark differences I noted that first night have only been amplified with more time. Cole asks about my day, about what I’ve read, about myself, and he listens to my answers. His attention is singular, focused on what I’m saying even when it’s coming out at such a rapid-fire pace that I’m surprised by it.
Not that he shares a lot about himself in return.
Other than the smallest tidbits about his work—like Mr. Webster’s name and his own doubts about his potential infidelity—he told me that he’s a twin and has a whole gaggle of siblings, which shocked me. For some reason, I pegged him as an only child, but once I pictured him with siblings, all fighting to be heard, I could see him as the lone wolf off to the side, quietly observing and cataloging his brothers and sister.
Nope, this hasn’t been the vacation that I imagined, but somehow, it’s been exactly what I needed. Best laid plans? Laid to rest. Janey: zero. Universe: score one.
Still thinking about Cole, I flip the chicken breasts I’m studiously watching. I’m not a great chef. Gordon Ramsey is certainly never gonna invite me to prepare dinner for him unless it’s to star inKitchen Nightmares. But I’ve never given anyone food poisoning either, so I’d say I’m right in the middle of semi-decent in the kitchen. Mostly.
I check the clock, both to make sure the chicken has had ample time to reach a safe temperature—gotta protect that no poisoning record!—and because Henry should be here by six o’clock.
After stashing my hopefully-perfectly-cooked chicken in the microwave to stay warm, I glance out the window over the sink. The forest is beginning to darken, and Henry needs to be through the awkward and dangerous drive to the cabin while the sun is still up. Plus, Cole’s supposed to come in for a shower and be gone before Henry’s arrival. I feel guilty about kicking him to the curb, a.k.a. his truck, for the night, but I don’t think Henry will want to share space on what’s left of our romantic getaway, and the bedroom loft isn’t exactly private.
Stepping out to the back porch, I give the hot tub a long, regretful look. I had such great plans for it but haven’t been able to use it with the poison ivy rash, which I’m a bit salty about, but it’s my own fault. I prepared for bears but not greenery that could ruin everything.
Or unexpected house guests who would tempt me into the unknown wilds of the forest.
Nope, not thinking about Cole. Or his eyes and fingers roving over my back, drawing heat to places that had nothing to do with an allergic reaction. I’m focusing strictly on the poison ivy rash and that’s it. Yep, that’s it.
Hopefully, Henry doesn’t mind my patchy irritation. The calamine lotion is working, but it’s not a quick fix.
I sink onto a porch chair, wrapping a blanket around me and gathering it beneath my chin to call him on speakerphone. It’s not that chilly, but worry is pooling in my belly because Henry should be here by now.
“Hello?”
“Hey! Just checking in to see how close you are. The last bit of the drive to the cabin is pretty sketchy, and definitely something that should be done during daylight hours, so hopefully, you’re almost—”
He cuts me off abruptly, blurting out, “I’m not coming.”
