by Lili Valente
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Adeline
I manage to keep my jittery legs and panic under control until I round the corner from Nate and Eduardo’s room and hit a stretch of long, abandoned hallway. But as soon as I’m out of their line of sight, I break into a jog, rushing quietly toward the opposite side of the lodge, calculating how long it will take me to pack and what the chances are of convincing a cab to come pick me up in this weather.
I have to get out of here. Now.
I have to get away from Nate before my luck runs out and he succeeds in getting me out of my clothes.
The truth is written all over my skin. The second he sees the scar, he’ll know. I could lie and say I had my appendix removed or donated a kidney or had part of my liver stolen after a date with a man I met on Yes, Cupid went seriously, organ-harvestingly wrong, but Nate will see through me.
He’s right. It’s just like it used to be. The connection between us is intense and real, and there’s no way I’ll be able to look into his eyes and make him believe a lie.
But I can’t tell him the truth, either. At least not now. I don’t think I could get the words out, even if I tried. After seven years of stuffing that dark, ugly story down to the bottom of my mind, it’s well and truly stuck. And now that Nate has brought the past crashing into my present, I realize that the monster inside me hasn’t been idle. It hasn’t been hiding out in a corner taking naps; it’s been gorging itself, growing even bigger and uglier than it was before.
Turns out shadow things don’t need light or air to survive. They thrive in the dark, feeding on silence, shame, and isolation. And I’ve been all those things. Alone. Ashamed. And silent—because I thought silence was a way to show that I was strong.
But it wasn’t, and I’m not strong. I’m weak, so weak all it would take is a gust of wind to make me shatter.
Nate is right, I should have found someone to talk to. Maybe it would have helped and I wouldn’t feel so out of control right now. I don’t know. All I know is that I’m afraid that if I open that locked door, my secret will rush out like an ogre with hammers for fists, smashing everything in its path.
I can’t let that happen while Nate is around. If I do, I’ll ruin any hope for a future with him in it. I want to believe he’s right, that there’s a way back to the dream I was so certain was lost forever, but I’m not ready yet. I need time to put the past to rest before I reach for the future.
As I pass through the lobby, I glance out the windows at the storm, nibbling at my bottom lip. The snow is coming down so hard that I can’t see past the first few feet of the lake. The ice-skating rink at the top of the hill and the mountains in the distance are whited-out, erased by the swirling flakes. If I’m going to get off the mountain before this storm becomes a full-fledged blizzard, I’m going to have to hurry.
Figuring the sooner I call a cab the better, I swing by the concierge desk, smiling at the woman in the Tomahawk Mountain House fleece, whose nametag reads “Francine” in gold letters.
“Hello, Francine,” I say, still breathless from my dash down the hall and six flights of stairs. “I was wondering if you could call me a cab to New Paltz. I’ll be ready to go in about twenty minutes. I just have to pop upstairs and grab my things.”
Her thin, white eyebrows draw closer together. “Oh, sweetheart, I don’t know if they’ll be able to get up here in this weather, even with four-wheel drive. And you’ll have an even harder time getting back from town this evening. The storm isn’t supposed to let up until tomorrow.”
“I’m not coming back. I’m going to stay in New Paltz tonight and look for a rental car tomorrow. I have to get back to the city sooner than expected.”
“I hope it’s nothing serious.” She taps her fingers on the top of her phone, but doesn’t pick up the receiver.
“It’s not serious, but it’s urgent,” I say firmly. It’s nice that she’s a kind person who cares about strangers taking risks on treacherous mountain roads, but I’m willing to risk a little snow and ice in exchange for the peace of mind of knowing I’m far away from Nate, with my secrets still locked up tight. “I really do have to get back. I’m willing to pay the driver extra for the trouble.”
“All right, I’ll see what I can do, honey. Give me a minute,” she says, punching a red button for an outside line. “But just so you know, the highway into the city might not be passable tomorrow. Our crews around here do a great job with the roads in town and up to the hotels, but the state doesn’t get in a hurry. They might not get to clearing the highway until the day after tomorrow. Maybe even later.”
“I understand. Thank you for checking for me, anyway. I appreciate it.”
While she dials, I step to the end of the desk, contemplating the increasingly aggressive snow outside. I suppose I could go back to the “hiding out in my room” plan, but my gut says that Nate will find a way to track me down. He might decide to bang on every door in the hotel, knowing him. He can be stubborn when he’s got his mind set on something, and he clearly has his mind set on me.
Poor you!
You know most women would give an arm, a leg, and an eyeball or two to have Nate chasing them around a romantic lodge on Valentine’s Day, right?
“Most women don’t have the history I have with him,” I mumble.
“What’s that, dear?” Francine asks from behind me.
I turn with a smile. “Nothing, just talking to myself. Sorry.”
She grins. “No need to apologize. I talk to myself all the time. I’m very good company.” She winks as she holds out a piece of paper. “All right, I’ve got a guy willing to pick you up. Very safe driver, four-wheel drive pickup, with chains on the tires. No extra charge.”
I sigh with relief, but Francine doesn’t give me time to thank her before she warns, “But he’ll only go as far as the top of the hill. He’s been stuck at the bottom of our drive before and won’t risk it. One of the valets will drive you up to meet him by the lodge entrance. They’ve got the four-wheel drive UTV out there all gassed up and ready to go.”
“Perfect!” I check the clock on the wall. “So I should be out there in twenty minutes?”
“Better make it thirty,” she says. “Hank said it will probably take him double the usual time to get up the mountain. So be sure to bundle up in case it takes him longer and you end up waiting.”
“Thanks so much, Francine.” I cling tight to the slip of paper with the driver’s name and number on it. “I appreciate it so much. You’re a lifesaver.”
“Oh, no, don’t say that, honey,” she says, a troubled look creasing her features. “I feel bad enough sending you out in this weather without risking a jinx on top of it. You just take care of yourself and drive safe tomorrow if you decide to risk the highway, okay?”
“Will do.” With a final wave, I turn and dash up the main staircase.
Twenty minutes later, I’ve changed back into my ski clothes—with my coat buttoned up tight this time—packed my meager belongings into the laundry bag housekeeping left in the closet, and hurried back down to the lobby. Outside at the valet station, I have to shout to be heard over the wind wailing through the eaves of the roof. The man in charge of the UTV raises an eyebrow when I tell him I need a lift up to the entrance, but when I assure him a cab is coming to meet me, he wraps his scarf around his head a few more times and tells me to hop in.
The ride up the drive is miserable, but I’m so relieved to be moving farther away from Nate that I don’t mind the flakes stinging into my eyes or the wind threatening to rip my new hat off and deliver it to the mountain gods as a sacrifice. I simply hold on to my cap, clench my jaw against the cold, and try not to shiver too obnoxiously, hoping we won’t have to wait long for my driver to arrive.
But luck is on my side for once. When we reach the top of the hill, a black pickup truck with a “Hank’s Cab Service” sign in the window is already idling near the lodge entrance, emitting comforting puffs of smoke from its tailpipe.
&
nbsp; I thank the valet, tip him my last five-dollar bill, and climb into the passenger’s seat of the truck to find an old man with faded blue eyes waiting for me with a smile on his face. “There you are. Adeline, I assume?”
“Yes, sir.” I brush the snow from my coat as I buckle up.
“Hank.” He holds out his hand, giving mine a firm shake.
“Thanks so much for coming to pick me up, Hank. I really appreciate it.”
“You can thank Francine when we get to town. She’s the only one who can get me out of the house once I’ve settled in for the night.” He shifts the truck into drive and checks his rearview mirror before pulling out onto the road. “She made me promise to give her a call when we get to New Paltz. She wants to know you made it down the mountain safe and sound.”
“She’s sweet,” I say, settling my purse on my lap.
“She is,” he agrees with a nod. “That’s why I married her. Though, the fact that she’s the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen doesn’t hurt, either. We’re celebrating forty years next month.”
“Congratulations.” I smile, liking that Francine is still the prettiest woman in the world to the man who loves her. “So I’m guessing she wants you to get to town safe, too.”
“She’s still tolerating me after all this time, so I suppose so.” He slows as we round the first corner and head into the wind. Snow churns wildly against the glass, making it hard to see more than a few feet in front of the truck.
I tense, but before I can ask if we should turn around, Hank adds, “We’ll be fine. Just gotta take it slow.” He reaches out, cranking up the heat. “I’ve been driving these mountains my whole life and never spun out. The secret is not to get in a rush. You don’t have an appointment in town, do you?”
I shake my head. “No. Just hoping to find an empty room somewhere not too expensive. I’m going to be renting a car tomorrow to drive back to the city.”
He grunts. “So maybe something near the rental car place. They use to have an Enterprise in the parking lot of the La Quinta, but I don’t—”
His words are cut off by an ugly thudda crunch as the truck suddenly jerks hard to the right and the driver’s side window implodes.
I scream, grabbing onto the handle over my window as freezing air rushes in and the truck careens across the road, spinning in wild circles as whatever hit us skids away into the near-darkness.
“Hank!” I cry out as he collapses over the steering wheel. “Hank! Wake up! Hank!”
I reach for my seat belt, planning to dive across and try to get control of the wheel, but the button won’t release. I try again and again, fighting with the nylon holding me prisoner as the truck continues to spin and the wind continues to howl and my heart pounds so hard it’s like a fist slamming into my ribs from the inside.
And then suddenly there’s a strange gulp of silence, like fate taking a breath, bracing itself to finish this off. To finish me, and poor Hank, all because I didn’t know how to let go of the past before it was too late.
“I’m sorry,” I sob, but my voice is barely audible over the scream of metal as the truck bursts through the guardrail and starts to fall.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
From the texts of Nathaniel Casey
and Mitch McKibbon
Mitch: Hey, it’s Mitch. This is my new number.
Do you have a minute?
Nate: A minute or two, but I might not be with you for long.
I’m in the middle of a snowstorm and service is getting patchy.
Mitch: A snowstorm in the city?
Nate: No, I’m out near New Palz, at that Victorian hotel in the mountains that Stephanie says is haunted.
Mitch: Ah, Tomahawk. It’s totally haunted, man.
Nate: Meh. I read about it. The white lady in the attic sounds contrived, and the hotel has no creep vibe. It’s as wholesome as Christmas morning with extra sugar cookies.
Mitch: I’m not talking about the white lady. I’m talking about this couple that went full on Shining back when the hotel was still under construction. The authorities found their bodies in a cabin near the edge of the property.
For years people thought they’d pulled a Romeo and Juliet because she was an heiress and her parents were trying to break up the marriage, but forensic tests on the bones years later proved that it was a double murder.
Dude stabbed her, and then she shot him with a shotgun. They might have survived, at least the girl, since the knife didn’t hit anything vital, but there had been an avalanche earlier that night. She made it to the door, but she couldn’t dig herself out of the cabin in time to get help. Poor kid bled out on the porch.
Locals say sometimes the snow near the old cabin still turns red just before sunset and you can hear people screaming inside the crumbling walls.
Whooooo-hoooooo…
ghost emoji
stabbing knife emoji
skull emoji
Nate: Riveting, but I’m assuming that’s not what you texted about.
Mitch: What’s wrong with you, man? You usually can’t get enough of this kind of stuff. Am I on your shit list for some reason?
Nate: No. Sorry. I’m just…distracted.
I finished up a job today for that consulting firm I’ve been working for part time, and I need to go take care of some personal stuff.
Mitch: Personal stuff like a girl?
Nate: Yes. A girl.
The girl, actually…
Mitch: Shut up! THE girl? The one your dad hated so much he threatened to have you thrown in jail for kiddie porn?
Nate: Yeah. We randomly ran into other again, but it doesn’t feel random. It’s like fucking fate, or something…
Mitch: I’m not sure I believe in fate, but that’s cool.
Nate: No, it’s not cool. It’s messed up. She’s clearly had a shit time of things since we split, and all signs point to it being at least partly my fault. And now I hate myself for letting so much time go by without making sure she was okay.
Because she’s special.
Really special.
And I don’t believe in fate, either, by the way. Or I didn’t before this weekend. But there are too many coincidences for this to just be something that’s happening. It’s something that’s meant to happen, Mitchell.
I’m one hundred percent for real about this, not fucking joking, so don’t say something dismissive that’s going to piss me off.
Mitch: Have you been drinking?
Nate: No….
But maybe I should start…
I’m wound up, man. I can’t shake this feeling that something’s about to go wrong. Or maybe it’s already gone wrong. That maybe I’ve screwed things up with her, and she’s never going to give me another chance.
What if today was my one shot and I fucked it all up?
Mitch: Okay, don’t start drinking. Drinking would be bad for you right now.
You should take a hot shower, meditate, and find some stars to look at.
You know stars always bring you back from the edge.
Nate: The sun hasn’t set on this side of the world, and it’s snowing too hard for stars.
Besides, that won’t work anymore because I remembered the Carl Sagan quote.
Mitch: The Carl Sagan quote…
Nate: “For small creatures such as we, the vastness is bearable only through love.”
It’s not bearable anymore, Mitch.
Not without her, and maybe it never was.
Maybe I’ve been kidding myself all these years, thinking I had my shit together. I don’t know anymore. All I know is that it feels like I’ve been sleepwalking through life, and then yesterday I saw her and I woke up and now there’s no going back.
Mitch: Yesterday…
So you’ve been back at this thing with summer-love girl for two days?
Nate: I don’t want to hear it.
Fate, Mitchell! Fate doesn’t care about your dating rules, or how much time I’ve been back in contact with Addie, so don’t
even start.
Mitch: All right, all right! Message received.
And hey, what do I know anyway? It’s not like I’ve ever made a relationship work.
That’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about. I’m heading back to the city tomorrow night. I’ve decided to tell my parents I’m gay.
Nate: You’re gay?
Mitch: Seriously, dude?
Nate: But I thought you said all the women you’ve tried to date weren’t into the Eat, Pray, Love thing?
Mitch: I said all the PEOPLE I’ve been trying to date. I never said women.
Nate: Are you sure?
Mitch: Yes, I’m sure! And you totally know that I’m gay! Remember the time in Greece when Abe and I were making out at the discotheque right in front of you?
Nate: I thought that was the ouzo. We all drank a LOT of ouzo that night.
Mitch: Ouzo doesn’t make people gay, Nate. It makes your mouth taste like someone took a black-licorice-scented dump on your tongue.
Nate: God, don’t remind me.
Sorry I didn’t get it. But in my defense, after Monty made out with that donkey outside the club, that became my dominant memory of the evening. And a major reason why I avoid discotheques like the plague.
Mitch: And there’s the fact that you can’t dance worth a shit.
Nate: Agreed.
So…you’re gay.
Mitch: Yes, I’m fucking gay. Thanks for not noticing.
Way to make me even more stressed about coming out to my parents. All this time, I thought you were one of the few people who was in the know and was cool with it.
Nate: Hey! I am cool! Don’t be stressed. It’s all good, man.
It doesn’t make a difference to me whether you like dick or pussy, you’re still my favorite asshole, and that’s all that matters.
Mitch: Thanks, man.
I appreciate that. Seriously.
Nate: Of course. And I’m back in the city on Tuesday night. I’ll be around for beers and moral support if coming out to the family doesn’t go the way you hope it will.
