Page 2 of Snowbound

Fabulous.

Still, credit where it’s due—someone hauled themselves all the way out here just to leave chocolates. I drop onto the bed, toe off my boots, and eat both in one bite, barely chewing. I can’t even remember the last real meal I had.

The chocolate melts, silky and sweet. I’ve always been a chocolate girl.

Chocolatedoesn’t lie. Chocolate doesn’tfuck a stranger in your own bed and leave someone’s slutty panties for you to find. Chocolate isloyal.

I stare at the empty wrappers and sigh. Should’ve saved one.

I grab my phone and pull up the reservation still open on the app. Andthat’swhen I see it—two and a half stars across the top. Oh my god. I can almost hear Jake scolding me.

Really, Emma? Maybe read the damn reviews next time?

“Shut up,” I whisper to no one and tap the description on the page anyway, even though my phone seems frozen and doesn’t want to work. It takes forever to load.

“Don’t open the web page,” I whisper to myself. “Don’t do it.”

Ignorance is bliss?

But no, I open the damn page that I should’ve readbeforeI came here. Instead, I packed a bunch of shit in a bleary-eyed coma and got the hell out of dodge.

Sigh. And here we are.

I cringe, reading the first few lines.

A true retreat! Craving solitude and the time to unplug from the constant demands of the digital age? We’ve got you covered.

There’s little to no cell reception for most of our guests.

Please bring your own food—this is the land of no delivery services, no nearby grocery stores.

Wintertime visitors beware: A snowstorm often means no power, and the heat is also electric.

Enjoy your stay!

My stomach sinks like a stone. Oh god. I reallywasdrunk and bleary-eyed when I booked this.

A text pops up that wasn’t there before, and for all I know, came hours ago.

Jake

Where are you?? Someone said you packed up and left. You can’t do that

It takes every effort I have not to tellhimhe can’t put his dick in a woman after taking vows tome,and he’stotallylost any right to knowledge of my whereabouts. But I recently read something that saidno answer IS an answer,and that makes good sense.

So I give my phone the middle finger and toss it on the counter, because I’m mature like that, and congratulate myself on not responding and taking thehigher ground.

Then I stomp my feet andscream.“Arrrrgh! You stupid, useless, piece ofshit!”

I’m breathing heavily but feel a bit better.

I look around.

I’m in the middle of nowhere in a cabin, with no food, no car—because I decided it would “keep me focused” and I wouldn’t have a way to distract myself—and now spotty cell service.

Brilliant.

It’s fine,it’s fine.