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Love.
I blink back the tears brimming my eyes and search the depths of his. The cabin blurs into a swirl of browns and creams and black. Travis’s lips move, but I don’t hear a word he says to his father. Pulse thrumming in my ears, I swallow as the rhythm of my heart changes. As my heartbeat learns a new pattern. A tempo I memorized as we drifted off to sleep, my head on his chest and ear above his heart.
Without a single word spoken, without a single confession vibrating the air, I know with absolute certainty that Travis Emerson is in love with me. I see his truth in his soul-deep stare.
And it is with this realization that the room comes back into focus.
Ben shakes my shoulders from behind. “Are you okay?” Concern edges his words as they hit my ears.
On a harsh swallow, I nod. “Uh.” The sound scrapes my throat and I clear it. “Yeah.” I pat his hand on my shoulder. “I’m fine.”
He presses his lips to my crown, breathes me in, kisses my head, then mumbles against my hair. “Scared the shit out of me.” He gives both shoulders a quick squeeze, then straightens in his seat.
“Sorry,” I mutter.
“If it’s still quiet by the weekend, we’ll head back,” Travis says, and everything in the room sharpens. His father’s booming voice echoes across the room a moment before Travis rolls his eyes. “The gun safe is secure, and I’ve taken… measures for intruders.”
Gun safe? Measures?
Where the hell is there a gun safe?
As if I asked aloud, Travis holds up a finger. “Call you tomorrow, sir.” Then he hangs up the phone. NoI love you, Dad. Nogood nightorthank you. Nothing warm or affectionate or familial.
Travis sets the phone back on the bookshelf, crosses the room, and squats in front of me. Eyes locked on mine, he cups my cheek, the softest smile tipping up the corners of his mouth. Pulse throbbing beneath his ear, he nods imperceptibly, a silent confirmation of my assumption a moment ago.
Travis Emerson is in love with me.
Swallowing, I lean into his touch and close my eyes, giving a small nod in return. Warm, soft lips meet my forehead and I melt under his touch. But it doesn’t last long. With a blink, I meet Travis’s solemn expression.
“In the laundry room, the wall butting the kitchen pops open.”
My brows crumple inward. “Pops open?”
Travis looks up at Ben for a beat before meeting my eyes again. “Not as seamless as it looks.” A brief smile finds his face. “Between the washer and the wall, there is a small button that blends in with the molding.”
He pushes up on his feet, stands, and offers me his hand. Leading us to the small room, he swings me in front of him, takes my hand, and guides it to a small notch in the wall. His hand on mine, we press the button and a click echoes in the room. To our left, about three feet down, the wall sticks out a couple inches. Stepping back, he waits until I move around him before he opens the hidden door.
My jaw hits the floor. Between the kitchen and laundry is a small room. Travis tugs a chain just inside the room, illuminating the space. Hesitantly, I take a step forward, then another, and another, until I’m inside. To the left is a tall gun safe with a digital keypad. Straight ahead, a collapsed cot, bucket, non-perishables, and a few gallons of water.
“Below you,” Travis says, and I spin to face him. “Under the rug is an escape hatch.”
“Jesus,” Ben mutters. “Get locked in your panic room much?”
The muscles in Travis’s jaw tic a beat before he smirks at Ben. “No,Benji. It’s called being smart.” Travis faces him fully. “If someone pins this door shut”—he waves a hand to the wall—“the person inside needs another way out.” He cocks his head. “Sounds intelligent in my mind.”
“Whatever,” Ben mumbles.
Travis steps in next to me and spends the next several minutes detailing everything about the room—the safe combo, where the escape hatch leads, what supplies and how much are in the room. When the room should be used. With each new thing, I grow more overwhelmed.
The door closes with a soft click once we step out. Though the room is built for safety, something about being in there, seeing the prison-like confines, sends a chill up my spine.
Palm rubbing up and down my back, Travis leans into my side as we enter the main part of the cabin. “We shouldn’t need to use it, but knowing about the room is smart. Better to err on the side of caution.”
“Is that how we’re brushing all this off now?” Ben pipes up.
“Ben…” I say, exasperated.
“What?” Ben holds my gaze a beat before aiming it at Travis. “It isn’tnormalto have panic rooms and emergency exits in the floor.”
