Page 48 of Craving Consequences

Next to me, Everly is still. Her small face is fixed on the windshield like it’s any other day.

I’m careful to keep a wide distance between us.

Lachlan is doing the same on her other side.

We’re giving them all the illusions that our feelings for the pintsized woman between us are platonic and neutral; I can’t even begin to imagine the implosion if they ever found out the truth.

I exhale and slump back against my seat.

“I’m sorry.”

The tiny murmur is nearly swallowed by the rumble of tires and pounding of rain, but it falls into the cabin with all its unnecessary weight.

Lachlan takes his gaze off the road for a second to slant Everly a glance. “For what?”

She inhales deeply. “Everything. I pulled you both into my mess.”

Out of the view of everyone but the road leading us out of that hellhole, I settle my hand lightly on her soft thigh.

“What did I tell you about that? ”

She sighs and drops her head back against the seat.

“I should have known better. Every time I ... the longer I let you stay in my orbit, the higher the chance I’ll suck you into my blackhole of death.

I thought the night at the bar would be a one time thing.

A stupid way to feel wanted. I thought it would end there, but .

.. it’s getting out of hand. I’m going to wreck your lives if I—”

“Stop it.” Lachlan presses his palm into her other knee. “Once this party is over and everything settles down, people will forget.”

To my surprise, she nods slightly, but doesn’t respond. She stays watching the road with a stillness in her expression that tickles my apprehension. I would give anything to hear the thoughts in her head, because I have a strong suspicion that I won’t like them.

Nevertheless, we all fall silent. An unspoken decision we make collectively as we pass through the painfully structured streets away from prying eyes.

It’s odd that there are three of us in the truck and yet none of us say a single word the entire way out of town.

None of us even dare exchange glances just in case someone’s watching.

It’s not until we hit the highway, Jefferson in our rearview, that Everly slips sideways straight into my side.

Her head pillows on my shoulder. Her tiny frame cocooned in my coat .

I brush a kiss to her crown. My fingers flex on her thigh. She sighs and relaxes. Her arm coils through mine and she burrows in.

The rhythmic swish of the wipers is the only sound for several miles, a persistent squeak of rubber on glass moving in steady arcs as rain batters the roof like a thousand impatient fingers.

The road is a little more than a winding snake threading through the wilderness, pitted with potholes and half swallowed puddles of mud.

The mounted phone on the dash has flashed twice with warning, alerts to turn back. But we’ve already made it this far.

I glance down at the head still resting on my shoulder, tired and content, and tighten my hold on her. I reposition her just enough to keep her from slipping forward and startling awake as she dozes.

I’ve never been to her family cabin, but Lauren has spoken about it so much and has taken so many pictures that I feel I would recognize it on sight. Still, I’m momentarily surprised by it when we take the bend and the trees unfold to expose its actual grandeur.

It sits alone, a sprawling Victorian hidden from the world. Painted a stubborn black that plays with the shadows creeping in from all sides. It holds three floors and a rolling span of lawn in a wide clearing broken only by a jagged row of stones cutting a path from the driveway up to the house .

It’s stunning and out of place. Not at all what I pictured when Everly was going on about floods and serial killers.

Lachlan puts the truck in park and kills the engine. The world exhales around us, leaving only the sound of wind through branches and the rhythmic patter of rain.

We sit there a beat, no one rushing to move. It’s just us, him and me with Everly’s soft breathing between us.

Three hours is a long time not to speak. The skin of my lips have fused together and my tongue is glued to the top of my mouth. I have to relax my jaw to answer when he finally breaks the silence.

“Let’s get her inside and bring in the stuff.”

As plans go, it’s a fairly rational one. I would prefer not to get soaked again, but there’s no other way around it.

Resigned to the discomfort, I reach down with the hand not possessively clasped in Everly’s arms and lightly brush her hair back.

“Evie?” I kiss her brow. “We’re here, baby.”

It takes her a moment to stir. Her lashes flutter and she shifts. Her small, bunched fingers lift to cover her mouth when she yawns.

“Already?” she groans, pushing upright.

She sighs and blinks through the windshield at the grand structure through the steady fall of rain .

“I love this place,” she says quietly. “I could honestly stay here forever.”

It would be nice. Isolated from the world.

From Jefferson. Just wilderness on all sides.

My only hesitation is her living alone with break-ins.

Her, unprotected and vulnerable to whoever decides they want in.

Maybe it’ll be different if someone is actually living in the place full time, but I still don’t like it.

“Want to run in and make space for the stuff?” I ask her.

She nods and I nudge open the door.

My clothes are soaked within seconds as I wait for her to find her keys and hop down. Her slippered feet hurry up the path to the front steps. We watch her get the key in and push the door wide before disappearing inside.

It takes several minutes of grabbing the groceries and hauling them up to the house. We’re pointed to the kitchen and the slab of marble island in the center.

The party bins follow and get dumped in a line along the bottom of the stairs.

When it’s all finished and we’re dripping all across the polished hardwood, Everly directs us upstairs to the bedrooms with our duffels. I follow Lachlan with the sound of Everly puttering around below unpacking the groceries.

The cabin is a home. There’s no other name for it. Its walls of memories hung with love behind framed glass along the stairs. It’s the little touches that, while sparse, hold significance .

The upstairs landing extends wide down a dimly lit hall lined with doors. Five. Two on either side and the fifth at the very end — the master bedroom, I assume.

Lach and I pick the second set of doors at the end and step inside.