Page 19 of Knot the Last Chapter

His grin widens. “There are a lot of spiders.”

“Coward.”

“Pragmatist.”

I laugh happily. Our little island. So many summers wrapped in that place.

“You know, that’s where this all started.”

Jake frowns slightly. “The cabin?”

“No. The mysteries.” I sip my coffee, letting the memories float up like old film clips. “Remember? You used to hide ‘treasure’ out there for me to find. Maps and clues and riddles. You made up that whole story about pirate gold.”

He smiles softly. “Of course I remember. You were obsessed with secret passageways and hidden keys.”

“You always made the clues just hard enough that I thought I was a genius when I solved them.” I grin. “That’s why I wanted to write mysteries.”

Jake leans forward again, his face softer now. “And you will. You’re already doing it. But listen—”

Here it comes. Big Brother Mode.

“—just be careful out there. Remember, the west end of the island’s still full of those old traps from when the hunters used to run lines through there.”

I nod. “I know. I’ll stay on the main paths.”

“And text me when you get there. And when you leave. And make sure to come back if any weather shows its ugly head. This part of the country is unpredictable, at best, and the weather folk just pretend they know what’s happening in the skies.”

I salute. “Sir, yes sir.”

He rolls his eyes but reaches across the table to ruffle my hair, like I’m still twelve.

“You’re a good egg, Lila.”

“And you’re an overprotective pain.”

“Family tradition.”

We both laugh, and for a second, it’s like being back on that island again—two kids, armed with maps and snacks, convinced the world was full of mysteries waiting to be solved.

Chapter eleven

Lila

The island, one of hundreds sprinkled across the lake, waits for me like an old friend. It’s not a big island. Just big enough for a cabin, a small dock where I leave the boat, and forests thick enough to inspire mysteries. The cabin creaks as I unlock the door, the old wood protesting like it’s been personally offended by my absence. The air smells like dust, cedar, and faintly of lake water—cool, damp, and a little sweet.

I step inside and breathe it in.

Hello, old friend.

The cabin isn’t fancy. Two bedrooms, a kitchen that barely fits one person at a time, and a living room where we spent so many summers piled on the floor playing cards or telling stories while Dad grilled fish on the back porch. The windows are still dusty but intact. No leaks, no fallen branches through the roof. That’s a win.

The number of spiders, as always, sends shivers up my back, but they vacate as I cut through their webs.

Jake owes me something expensive for this.

I walk from room to room, opening windows and propping open the back door to let the air flow. The breeze off the lake carries the smell of rain in the distance. The clouds aren’t here yet, but they’re coming. I can feel it—cool pressure behind the air, like the whole world’s holding its breath.

I pause in the living room, staring at the fireplace.