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But Erik’s cabin is practically invisible.

Then, as I’m watching, I spot a tiny light flickering in one of the windows. It dances around, darting from one window to the next. A flashlight, I assume. And Erik holding it while he walks around, searching for candles.

There are some over there, of course, along with a couple of lighters and several lanterns. Enough to get around without running into things, enough to light the corner of a room, but enough to be comfortable?

And what if he was in the middle of dinner? Without electricity, the stove is no use.

I get why Ralph doesn’t want to invest in expensive generators for all his houses, but I really wish he would. While some people might think of the power going out as an adventure, as Ralph claimed when I brought it up, honestly, I think most people will just be annoyed. Or even freaked out, finding themselves in a dark and unfamiliar cabin in the woods, imagining themselves as the poor, ill-fated victim they see in the horror movies.

Not that I think Erik would think that. Not after seeing the tattoo on his arm—twin arrows with a blade intersecting—which I identified as the Green Beret insignia after a quick Google search.

I wasn’t being nosy about it. Really. I was just curious.

But a guy like that; he wouldn’t be scared by the dark. He’s probably building a fire right now, completely unfazed by the power going off. Enjoying his rustic adventure, just like Ralph says.

Except.

What if he isn’t okay?

I’ve read about people suffering from bad PTSD after their time in the military. Being triggered by small things that remind them of past trauma.

And Erik’s on vacation, for Pete’s sake. He should be enjoying himself. Not sitting in the dark with a cold dinner to enjoy.

That’s what he told me when I ran into him a few days ago, on my way back from my morning hike. He told me he was finally taking a long-overdue vacation, and the cabin rental was a gift from one of his good friends. “Things kept coming up,” he explained in his low, rumbly voice. “But my friends—my coworkers—they insisted I go this time. So here I am.”

My forehead creases as I stare outside, debating.

I could do nothing. Mind my own business. Stop worrying about a man I barely know.

But.

He wasreallynice.

Even though at first glimpse, he seemed a little intimidating. At least a foot taller than my own five-foot-five, easily twice my size, his expression solemn and eyes carefully assessing, he looked like the kind of guy you wouldn’t want to run into in a dark alleyway.

But then he smiled, and his entire demeanor changed. His eyes shifted from flat coal to molten chocolate. A dimple appeared in his left cheek. The fine lines across his forehead smoothed out.

And that smile…

It did funny things to my stomach. And maybe to other, lower regions, as well.

We only spoke for a few minutes, but it was long enough to learn that he loves to hike, that he used to come to the Adirondacks with his dad when he was a kid, and he currently lives in Texas, working for a security company.

I could do nothing. Or. I could drive over there to bring him some extra supplies. Extra lanterns. A backup phone charger. A little butane cooking stove that he could use on the back porch. I could even pack up a few sandwiches and a container of the pasta salad I made yesterday, so he won’t have to worry about cooking anything tonight.

Would it be weird to go over there?

I’m not usually a fan of spending time around people I don’t know. Not that I’m scared of them; I’m just more of an introvert. Except for the rare times I get to see Ally or Julia, my other good friend from college, I’m happy being on my own.

Still, my gut is telling me to go.

Through the trees and the driving rain, that sad little light bounces between the cabin windows again.

In my head, I envision Erik wandering around looking for more flashlights, being triggered by the dark and—fudge. Is thunder another trigger? Because it could be mistaken for gunfire? And the lightning could be interpreted as an explosion during battle?

Crap.

I’m going.