by Vivian Wood
“Hello?” she called as she pushed the door open gently. “Anyone here?”
She wrinkled her nose as she noticed that King had tidied up what little things she’d brought into the cabin. He’d stacked her bag by the door with the cardigan folded on top.
“Neat freak,” she said under her breath.
“You know goddamned well that I’m here,” she heard King call from the kitchen. “Whose house do you think it is?”
Effie opened her mouth to fire off a snarky retort, but clamped it shut. She was starving, she was freezing, and the smell of the steak coming from the kitchen was irresistible.
King didn’t even look at her as she hovered in the kitchen doorway. Instead, he lifted the pan to keep coating the prime cuts in butter.
“So what’s the deal?” he asked, eyes still glued to the pan. “You show up at my cabin—break in, actually—”
“Excuse me, but I have a key?” she said, instantly irked. “And it’s not your cabin, it’s your family’s—”
“Actually, it’s in my name. Besides, I thought by now you might have grown out of the whole taking whatever you want from my family whenever and however you liked.”
Effie bristled. Back when they’d broken up, they’d never had the kind of intense fight that should have unfolded. When King had dumped her, it had been neat and fast. Effie often thought she’d been in shock, unable to react. By the time she’d started dating his brother, King was in Chicago, halfway across the state.
The neat transition from King to Thorne had been almost too easy.
“I—” she began, but King held up his hand.
“Forget it. So did you get him out of your system?”
“Who?” she asked, just to buy time.
She prayed he wouldn’t say his name. Just hearing Thorne’s name would send a fresh jolt of anger through her, but it was like a current. Buried deep. Maybe all the tears and the trek through the woods really had done some healing.
King let out a cruel laugh. “Three guesses.”
“It’s not that simple,” she said.
“I never said it was.”
From the living room, the dull murmur of the local news station suddenly became urgent.
“This is an emergency announcement,” a robotic voice said.
Without speaking, both of them rushed into the living room. Through the picture windows, there were fat flakes of snow beating angrily against the glass.
“Oh, my God,” Effie said under her breath.
“…travel advisory in effect…” the television warned.
“It’s sticking already,” King said as he peered out the window. “Shit.”
“No, no, no,” Effie said. “This can’t be happening, this can’t—”
“What the hell are you so upset about?” King asked. “You’re the one who randomly drove up to the woods when you know we’re the first place to get snowfall—”
“I didn’t have anywhere else to go!” Effie screamed.
She surprised both of them, and clapped her hand over her mouth as King’s eyes widened.
“Okay, I get it. Jesus,” he said.
The television flickered briefly and went black.
“The electricity—” she started, but King shook his head.
“The lights are still on, it’s just the television. I’ll get the emergency radio out.”
Effie struggled out of her coat and dumped it onto one of the thick leather chairs. She kicked off her shoes haphazardly. King, radio in hand, stopped and deliberately neatened up her shoes against the wall.
“We have a coat closet. In case you forgot,” he said, and looked pointedly at the coat.
“I’m sorry, how rude of me. I don’t mean to mess up your pristine cottage while we’re stuck in the middle of a freaking blizzard.”
Still, she picked up the coat and stomped to the hall closet. She knew she was acting like a spoiled brat, but she couldn’t help it.
First King had pissed her off, scaring the crap out of her like that in the morning. Acting like such a self-righteous jerk when she’d been so vulnerable.
But she knew it was really Thorne that deserved her rage, even though she couldn’t say she was surprised. There were clues, she’d just ignored them.
How he always changed the password on his phone and took it into the bathroom with him. The way he blatantly checked out waitresses or never texted back right away when he was on so-called business trips.
I’m a moron, and ignorance really is bliss. Or at least, it’s easier than paying attention.
She couldn’t get her mother’s words out of her head.
“Thorne’s so respectful!” her mother would gush. “Imagine that, offering to take care of all of us. What a gentleman—”
“Ugh,” Effie said as sunk into the couch.
King scanned the radio knobs to the clearest station. “… encourage those in the Chicago area, particularly in higher elevations, to batten down for the next twenty-four hours at least…”
“Well,” King said as he stood up. “Looks like it’s me and you, kid. It’s too late to make it anywhere now,” he said and looked back to the window. “It’s really coming down out there.”
“I’m supposed to be at work at seven in the morning,” she said. “The vet is going to be pissed if I don’t show up—”
“Maybe you shouldn’t have ran off into the mountains then,” he said, and looked over his shoulder at her. “I’d call the boss if I were you, tell them you’re going to be stuck here a few days at least.”
The last thing I want is to be stuck here with you, she thought. God. And all the crap I have to work out in the real world. Yaya, my mom, Thorne…
Just the thought of it all made her tired.
She worried her lip and took in his broad back as he faced away from her and gazed at the blizzard outside. It had been so long since she’d just taken him in like this. He was at once both familiar and a stranger.
There were things buried deep inside her memory that were suddenly brought back to life, like the small birthmark behind his right ear. Or the unbelievable V-shape which framed his hips that had become even more pronounced as he’d matured.
There were new things, too. Details that almost knocked the breath out of her. He’d always had a bit of a scruff in high school, but it had developed into a full-blown and permanent five o’clock shadow. His jaw had become even more square.
If this wasn’t King, the same King who had broken her heart, she’d fall in lust with him in an instant.
Get it together, Effie, she told herself. You read too many romance books.
That’s what her mom and Yaya said, at least.
Relationships aren’t just about two people, she reminded herself. Maybe they were right. She was quick to fall, to imagine what kind of fairytale taking a particular path might lead to.
And what had that gotten her? Inching towards her mid-twenties and only been with two men—two brothers, to be exact.
She’d watched as her college girlfriends had hookups and one-night stands. They gave her crap about her long-distance, steady boyfriend, but when they met Thorne that shut them up.
How many of them were dating a gorgeous, wealthy, golden boy? None of them.
“…up to four feet in higher elevations…” the radio continued.
Suddenly, she felt a weight fall into her lap. Effie hadn’t even noticed that King had swooped in on her.
“Might as well stay entertained,” he said. She looked down and saw one of the romance novels she’d grabbed from Thorne’s condo in her lap. “I can’t believe you still read this shit.”
“Hey,” she said, defensive. Effie looked up into those steely eyes. “At least I read.”
King laughed. “You don’t know anything about me, Effie. Not anymore.”
“And you think you know me?”
“I know you still read the same drivel you did in high school. I know you spent the day walking the trails by the creek—”
“How do you know that?”
“Because I know you,” he said pointedly.
King leaned down. It made Effie’s breath catch in her throat, but she refused to move or look away.
“And I know neither of us are surprised at what my asshole of a brother did. You deserve better.”
“You don’t know me,” she said. “You knew a little girl, a long time ago.”
King looked at her for a long moment.
“It doesn’t matter,” he said finally, and rose slowly.
“King?” she asked. “I, uhm. I know you don’t owe me any favors, okay? But I’d be really grateful if you didn’t tell anyone I was here.”
“Who would I tell?” he asked. “And how? You think I’m going to send a carrier pigeon into the city?”
King began to prod at the lingering orange in the fireplace as Effie’s eyelids got heavy. By the time the fire roared again and covered her face in heat, she felt nearly drugged.
The woods, the blizzard, and King had taken it all out of her.
As she felt herself slip into oblivion, she thought she felt a warm blanket thrown over her body.
4
King
King laid in bed and watched the darkness outside turn to pastel. He hadn’t slept the entire night, too on edge knowing Effie was just a few steps away.
He peeled himself out of bed and looked onto the glittery wonderland below. It was fairer than he’d expected. Not as much snow on the ground as the reports warned. But it was still coming down.
And knowing Effie, she doesn’t have snow tires, studs, or chains.
Still, King let out a sigh. Maybe the storm would be brief.
“And then I can get the fuck out of here,” he muttered under his breath.
He came up here to relax, not get trapped with the one person he’d spent the most time with in the cozy little cabin.
Or maybe that’s exactly why you keep coming back here, he thought to himself as he turned on the shower.
As he stretched and waited for the water to heat up, he winced at the pain. The bruises were still apparent, though they’d started to fade.
King leaned against the quartz counter and peered into his own eyes.
“Remember why you came here,” he told himself.
But why had he come here?
Maybe Effie had a little something to do with it. In high school, when they’d slipped away to the cabin he felt happy. Safe. Sure of where things were going.
And now he didn’t know what the hell he should be doing with his life.
Focus on that, not her, he reminded himself as he pulled down the flannel pajama bottoms and stepped into the nearly scalding heat.
Eyes closed, all he could see was her. How natural it had seemed when he stumbled upon her in the living room, almost like he was expecting her. Almost as if she belonged there.
King felt himself start to harden at the memory of her, skin bronzed in the light of the fire. She was even more gorgeous than she was in high school.
She had fuller breasts and wider hips but with that same flawless skin and spray of girlish freckles. There were just so many unanswered questions between then.
He turned his back to the spray of water and refused to let his hand wander to his length.
Why my brother, though? he thought, for what had to be the millionth time. Why not find someone else?
He got it, the whole appeal of making him jealous, but for this long? And to get engaged? King had spent years trying to find holes in their relationship, hints that Effie was attracted to Thorne.
It had always been obvious that Thorne was into Effie, but that hadn’t ever bothered him. But her? It just didn’t fit.
More importantly, why didn’t she just accept my ultimatum? he wondered.
But that was a question he couldn’t ever ask. The expiration date had long since passed.
King shut off the shower and stepped onto the radiant-heated floors. As he began to towel himself off, the same familiar tune that always entranced him got stuck in his brain.
He hummed Gershwin’s Rhapsody in Blue, the song that dragged him back to his childhood and wouldn’t let him go no matter how hard he tried.
King couldn’t even begin to imagine how many afternoons he’d spent at the piano while the teacher slapped his knuckles with a ruler for any errant move. Thorne sat nearby, rigid in the wooden seat, waiting for his turn. With every slap of the rules, King could see Thorne close his eyes as if it hurt him just as badly.
He pulled on a threadbare pair of jeans and thick flannel shirt. As soon as he opened the bedroom door, he nearly bumped right into Effie.
She emerged from the guest shower, hair damp and beginning to curl. The familiar rose scent that gushed from her, from the bathroom, almost knocked him down. He felt like he was seventeen again, and they were freshly in love.
King hadn’t realized until this moment that it wasn’t just the shampoo, it was the shampoo and her. The rose oil he’d been massaging into his own hair was nothing compared to the magic that happened when she used it.
Effie bit her lip and looked down. She was in one of the thick terry cloth robes that the caretakers kept impeccably bleached and fluffy. Too large for her, even tied at her waist twice, it gaped at the chest.
King knew the lines, the slope, of her breasts well. And he knew that just an inch away were those perfect pink nipples that would harden instantly with the slightest touch.
“We have the same shampoo,” Effie said.
“What?”
She gestured to the bathroom. “It’s weird, the shampoo in there is the same that I use.”
“Oh. I guess that is strange. I don’t know, the caretakers stock everything.”
Yeah, she was still hot. There was no denying that. But that didn’t make up for what she did, he told himself.
What was he expecting, anyway? Even if something did happen right now, so what?
And it easily could. She was shaken up, vulnerable, and probably eager to get back at Thorne.
But this was a cycle he was going to break. He wasn’t going to play sloppy seconds to Thorne, even if his brother hadn’t had a problem with the role.
Still … he couldn’t stop staring at her perfect breasts, nearly exposed. Or the collarbone with the deep divots. He could remember how salty it got in the summer after they’d spent the day hiking—
“Hey!” Effie snapped her fingers and his eyes shot to her. “My eyes are up here. Or did you forget?”
“Don’t flatter yourself,” he said, and pushed by her, but not before he saw her roll her eyes.
“Please,” she said. He heard her pad behind him down the hall towards the kitchen. “You’re trying to tell me you weren’t looking?”
“I wasn’t.” King busied himself with the Keurig machine.
“Men are always looking.” He heard a scrape as she pulled out one of the heavy chairs. King took a deep breath and willed himself not to tell her to take it easy.
“I see you’ve become pretty full of yourself.”
“I don’t mean just me,” she said. “All women. We’re objects, adornments.”
“I’m pretty sure objects and adornments don’t talk.”
“Whatever.”
King watched her in the reflection of the glass French kitchen cabinets while he waited for his cup to fill. Effie had pulled out a romance novel and was already lost in it.
When he turned around, he was intent on having his coffee in the great room, but something about seeing her like that—just like it was in high school—infused him with a fresh sense of rage.
“Those shit books are as dog-eared and covers are as filthy as I remember,” he said. “In fact… didn’t you read this exact same one in high school?”
She glared up at him. “Like you would know. Or remember.”
“Sure I remember.”
Effie put down the book. “Tell me one, one romance book that I’ve read that you remember. Not this one.
Just the title, that’s all.”
“Jesus, Effie, you expect me to remember—”
“I don’t expect anything from you. You’re the one who said you think you remember what books I read in high school.”
“I was just saying they’re all the same, it might as well be the same one. Don’t take everything so literally.”
She gave a short laugh. “You know, at least the heroes of romance novels always take care of their women. Real men could learn from them.”
King couldn’t help it. He took the bait and sat down across from her. At this angle, on a level playing field, at least it wasn’t as easy to look down her robe.
“And you’re an expert on men, huh?”
Effie glared at him. “When do you think we should be able to leave?”
“Smooth transition. Maybe tomorrow. You in a rush? Figured out where you’re going to go?”
Effie turned red. It was the same, cute embarrassed flush he remembered from when she was sixteen and got the top prize at the summer fair for her age group.
“Not exactly,” she said. “I mean, Thor—well, you know. We weren’t exactly living together. Not officially.”
“Why the hell do you think I know that?”
“Do you not talk to your family at all?”
“Not if I can help it. And we certainly don’t sit around gossiping about you, if that’s what you’ve been thinking. Believe it or not, you’re not the most fascinating subject.”
“But I’m an adornment that can talk. What’s not fascinating about that?”
He wasn’t sure if he saw a glint of mischief in her eye before the power cut out.
“Fuck,” King said, and stood up brusquely to tend the fire.
Effie put her hands over her ears. “Take it easy on the chair scraping, why don’t you?”
King couldn’t be bothered to reply. They were lucky they still had daylight, and that he’d spent the past weekend chopping wood. Not that the cabin needed it.
There was a perpetual year’s worth of firewood just out the back door. It was his mom’s one self-admitted “bourgeois” trait. She couldn’t stand the thought of not always having a completely full supply of kindling and logs.
