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I
Part One
One: LEXI
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“Fuck!”
I watch as he shoves his shoulder against the wooden door before kicking his boot-clad foot against it.
Everest; my bio dad and also now my legal guardian since three weeks ago, stands in front of me, with his palms pressed up against the door.
He turns around and cuts his eyes over to where I’m standing right behind him, with my hands shoved deep within my coat pockets.
His eyes. They’re rare. Mom told me about them once. It’s heterochromia. He has a green, golden rim that surrounds a brown ring, making his eyes bright and intense. Especially now with all the snow surrounding us, they’re much clearer and I can see the colors perfectly melting into each other. I have his eyes, although I’m pretty certain mine aren’t as intense and beautiful as his.
His jaw works, and his mouth opens and then closes. My eyes are the closest thing I have in common with him because that is where our similarities stop. Everest has dark hair, not dark enough to be black, but definitely darker than mine. I have mom’s light brown curls, her button nose, and her tiny 5’3 frame. Whereas Everest could be compared to a mountain or a beast. He is intimidatingly large in every way from his broad shoulders and 6’4 towering frame to his long legs and large hands. It’s absolutely fascinating how anyone could ever be that big. Even his facial bone structure is strong with harsh, mountainous cheekbones, full lips, and a sharp, clean-shaven jawline.
I don’t think I’ve stopped studying him once since he took me in and it’s not in a creepy way, it’s merely curiosity on my part. This person that I’ve barely known all my life is suddenly the closest thing I have to family. The only thing actually. And I still didn’t know all that much about him, except what Mom chose to share. Then again, that wasn’t a lot since she was high all the time.
“It always does this,” he says finally and takes a step back. His voice suits him. It’s strong and deep and has that commanding tone to it that makes the hairs at the back of my neck stand on end.
We’re at his hunting cabin for the weekend in Hemlock Hollows. He said it’s something he did every weekend to get away from the city and that we didn’t have to go this weekend, but I was okay with it.
The log cabin is cute and pretty small with a thicket of fir trees lined up behind it.
“How do you usually get in?” I ask, crossing my arms over my chest.
“I force my way in,” he says and before I can reply, he shoves his right shoulder against the wooden door again and again, grunting and cursing as he uses his entire body; eventually the door gives way and he nearly falls face forward inside the cabin.
But he regains his balance and glances back at me before laughing and pulling the door open. “I need to get this piece of shit fixed.”
“We won’t get stuck inside, right?” I take a hesitant step inside and brush past Everest and his tall frame. He hauls both our bags inside and drops them on the floor, right next to a rack of black iron pokers.
“Nope, but if we do it’s fine. We’ll survive and it’ll be better than being stuck out there,” he says so casually like he’s actually okay with being stuck in a cabin. “At least we won’t freeze to death.”
He shuts the door behind him, turns around, and leans against it before drawing his eyes down to mine.
I bet he can see the horror plastered all over my face and I catch him grinning slightly before he moves away from the door and walks over to a pile of wood that’s stacked on the floor.
“You’re joking, right?” I ask.
I hate how insecure I sound like a little girl, but Everest doesn’t seem to mind because his shoulders are shaking with laughter.
Everest pulls the metal grate away easily and grabs two logs and throws them into the blackened hearth. Old chunks of burnt wood and ash already cover its stone surface.
“You’ve never been in the wild before, have you?” He shoves his hair back out of his face as he places the grate back on and then stands up before brushing his hands off on his jeans.
“Nope.” I walk around the cabin. “I’ve never even been camping before.”
The smell of damp wood and musty earth infiltrates my nostrils as I unlatch a dusty window and shove it open to let in some of the clean winter breeze.
“Really?” The note of surprise in his voice catches my attention. I’m not sure why he’s surprised though.
It isn’t as if the social workers didn’t explain to him my situation. He already knows that I never really had much of a childhood and we don’t talk about it. I guess we need to. We have yet to discuss everything. I don’t want to, but I know he does.
“Yeah.” My answer is short and soft and I won’t bother repeating myself.
