Page 36 of A Secret Escape

Lila

T he orange glow of the porch gives way to further darkness as we step inside. Marcus pulls out his phone and switches on the torch, moving the light across the nearest wall until he finally spots a light switch.

A warm glow fills the room, and I turn and lock the door behind us, drawing the bolt across. I finally allow myself to take a breath as I look around the space.

Two large windows on either side of the door have wooden shutters built in, which I quickly close, blocking any visibility from outside.

“Well, this is nice,” Marcus says, putting his bag down by the door.

A cosy living room area with two couches and a coffee table, a wood burner and a wall-mounted TV meet an open plan kitchen at the back with a large island with two stools, positioned in front of beautiful wooden cabinets with white stone countertops.

Above the sink is a large window that looks out onto more darkness, and beside the cabinets is a set of French doors with floor to ceiling windows on either side .

A wave of panic washes over me at the thought of the darkness behind the house and that we would be visible for miles standing in the brightly lit living room. I rush to draw the curtains over the doors.

The only window that doesn’t have a curtain is the one over the sink, which has one of those lacy half curtains dangling down, as if left over from someone’s grandmother’s belongings - utterly useless aside from looking quaint.

I quickly look through the cabinets and pull out a large wooden chopping board, standing it up to block out most of the window.

Finally, I turn back to Marcus and let out a long breath.

He is standing by the door, watching me with a slight grin on his face.

“Come here,” he says, his smile warm and inviting.

I feel the tension in my shoulders begin to loosen as I walk towards him, drawn forward by the pull of his eyes. His expression is soft, lips parting slightly as his hands slide around my waist. The warmth of his body radiates through me, my heartbeat slowing to match his.

All the tension, the fear, the adrenaline swirl around my head in a dizzying vortex that gives way to something else, sharper and brighter - the magnetic pull of his lips, the warmth spreading through my chest, and the desperate need building low in my core at the thrill of knowing we have the next few nights together.

His captivating blue-grey eyes gaze into my soul, and my heart melts into a puddle. He kisses me, soft at first, then growing deeper, releasing every knot of tension built up during the four hour drive.

We’re safe, even if only for this moment.

My legs twitch with the desire to jump onto him and let him carry me straight to the bedroom, but my brain stops them, pulling me back from the kiss .

We may be safe for the moment, but we don’t know how long that moment may be.

He smiles, pressing one more quick kiss to my mouth before stepping out from my arms, and the moment he’s gone, my body aches for the warmth that went with him.

“I don’t know about you,” he says, “but I’m desperate for a cuppa.”

“Absolutely.”

I follow him, perching on one of the stools at the kitchen island as he searches through several cabinets, eventually finding a box of tea bags and some sugar.

He opens the fridge. “No milk.”

“It’s fine, I can have it black. Just need something warm.”

Although the inside of the cottage felt warm at first in comparison to the frigid air outside, the cold is now starting to wrap around me as I cross my arms over my chest to preserve some body warmth.

“Yea, sorry, I guess I should try to find the thermostat,” he says.

Setting the kettle to boil, Marcus walks around the room until he finds a small dial by the front door.

“This must be it,” he says and as he turns it, the sound of the boiler firing up hums within the walls. The vibration is comforting, adding to the temporary feeling of safety.

The kettle boils and Marcus makes our drinks, my heart warming when he puts one sugar in mine without asking.

We settle on the couch, me cradling my mug with both hands while Marcus holds his in one, his other arm wrapping around my shoulders. My head rests against his chest, eyes heavy with exhaustion.

We sip our drinks in comfortable silence. When we're done, Marcus sets his mug down on the coffee table, then takes mine and sets it down beside his.

The silence in the cottage is overpowering, the only sounds being the hum of the boiler, the whistle of the wind outside the windows, and the pounding thrum of my pulse in my ears.

My mind drifts back to my flat, pain tugging at my heart as I remember the state we left it in.

I imagine all the sounds I had grown so accustomed to over the past few months through the thin walls.

The baby crying two doors down, the Bollywood music blaring from across the hall, Marlena constantly shouting into her phone next door, and the constant buzz of traffic outside.

The silence here feels eerie, bordering on terrifying.

My eyes keep darting to the door, as though expecting something or someone to come bursting through at any moment, finding it difficult to break the habit of watching the mirrors, being on constant alert.

We don’t move again, neither of us daring to explore the rest of the house. We stay rooted in place, as though the couch itself is a refuge, even if the air feels thick. The reality that someone could still be behind us still hovers ever present in my mind.

I try to keep my eyes open, but with Marcus’s body heat beside me, exhaustion wins and darkness overpowers me.