Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 76592 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76592 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
“A cabin?” I don’t hate the idea.
“Just the weekend. It’s quiet. No cell service half the time. Enjoy the mountains. Sleep. Take some hikes. Think.” She lets a beat pass. “I’ll text you the address and the door code.”
I stare at the counter. At the sticky note on the fridge that says Do not contact Henry. “Angie…”
“I’m not telling you to go to my brother,” she says. “Dillon is still several hours away from the Western Slope. I’m just telling you to go where the noise is quieter. You might just clear your head and come back to next week’s classes feeling renewed.”
I mull it over. I’d do anything to get rid of the noise. The attack. The seminar. Henry’s name ricocheting around my skull like a loose screw.
But…
“I can’t,” I say.
“Okay,” she says, like we’re discussing weather. “Then you can’t. I love you.”
“I love you too,” I whisper, but I don’t know if she hears.
The call ends.
I stand for a while. I’m not sure how long. Until my phone buzzes again.
I don’t look for a few minutes.
Then I look.
From Angie.
An address in Dillon.
Then another text.
Door code is 90968. Spare key under the ceramic bear if the battery is sluggish. Please think it over, Tabs.
I drop the phone face down like it’s hot.
And I realize…
I want to go.
I want to get out of this apartment, out of Boulder, away from the Kelly clamps and sutures and surgical cases. Away from the classroom, the lab, the place where I was nearly beaten, raped…
Away from my thoughts.
Where better to do all that than a cabin in the mountains?
It’s just a weekend. I’ve been working so hard. I deserve a little respite.
Dillon is about an hour and a half drive from Boulder. Easy compared to the drive to the Slope. I can take my study materials. Take everything I need so I’m prepared for the cadaver lab on Monday.
I’m supposed to meet Eli tomorrow to study, but I can easily back out of that with some excuse. Need some time alone. Not feeling well. Anything like that.
I’m not sure when I make the actual decision to go.
Maybe it’s when I head to the bedroom and pull the suitcase out from my closet. God, the last time I used it was for the wedding. Or maybe it’s when I go into the bathroom, collect my toiletries, and shove them into a bag.
Maybe it’s when I grab my still-not-folded laundry out of the basket and lay it out on the bed.
Or maybe it’s when I look in the mirror, see the Steel Vineyards logo, and tell myself it’s time to relax, get away from everything, including my thoughts. I pull the T-shirt over my head and throw it into my wastebasket. Then I grab another shirt from my laundry and put it on.
Socks. Charger. Everything else I need.
Keys. Wallet.
I turn to leave the bedroom and…
“Damn it all.” I grab the T-shirt out of the trash and throw it on my bed. “Coward,” I say through gritted teeth.
I grab my phone to text Angie.
You win. I’m going. Should be there within two hours.
Great! Text me when you get there safely.
Will do.
I hit traffic at first. Everyone escaping for the weekend. But the sky ahead is clean. My chest loosens with every mile marker.
My GPS leads me to the cabin…
Which isn’t a cabin at all.
Damn, the Steels think this is a cabin?
It’s a mansion made of timber and glass, anchored to the mountainside like it grew here. The air in Dillon is sharp and clean. I step out of the car and stare up at the place. The A-frame peaks stretch toward the sky. Massive windows reflect the ridgeline and the sweep of the Dillon Reservoir below.
I park in the driveway and get out of the car. The sky has gotten heavy and cloudy.
I just breathe. It smells like rain.
That’s okay. I can deal with rain.
This whole place to myself for two amazing days.
I grab my stuff out of the trunk and walk toward the door. A set of footprints appears in the dried mud by the step. Fresh.
Strange. My heart goes faster for a moment until I remember that Angie said the cabin is managed. She probably had the manager come by to get everything ready for me. That’s a very Angie thing to do.
I punch in the code. The lock thunks. I push the door, heart in my mouth, and step inside to the scent of cedar and coffee.
“Hello?”
Then I jerk as a dog races toward me.
He doesn’t bark.
He doesn’t bark because he knows me.
It’s Zach.
My knees nearly give.
“Hey, buddy,” I whisper, petting his soft head. “It’s just me.”
I set my bag down. I straighten. I tell my hands not to shake.
He’s here.
Henry’s here.
Does he even know I’m coming?
Oh, Angie, what were you thinking?
Eighteen
Henry
Earlier the same day…