Fragile Lives: A small-town, age-gap, brother’s best friend romance (Little Hope series Book 4)
Fragile Lives: Chapter 11

“Are you sure you cleaned the sheets?” I ask into the phone for the tenth time while trying to drop groceries into the cart.

“Of course, we did, weirdo,” Kayla replies, and I can almost hear her roll her eyes. “You asked me so many times, I’m about to punch you through the phone.” Then she adds with a chuckle, letting it trail off, making me gag, “The walls, though….”

Alex bought this cute little house for Freya a while back when she thought she wanted a home away from the house, but when she found out how deep in the woods the place was, she changed her mind and put it up for sale. But no one local wants to buy a place in the middle of nowhere when they already live in the middle of nowhere, so the house has sat without visitors for a few months. And it’s not like it’s even a real house, more like a tiny cabin that can protect from the elements, but I’m not sure if it’s good for all the seasons or long-term.

About five months ago, Justin and Kayla went there for a little getaway slash fuck party for two, and she still happens to have the keys. While Freya and Alex are honeymooning—they left right after the wedding—I don’t want to bother my brother with my problems. I’d have to explain why I need the keys to such a remote place, therefore ruining his vacation. Kayla having the keys is such a convenience for me.

“You are nasty.” I gag, throwing a bottle of bleach into my cart.

“And you’re a prude.” She laughs, and something clicks on her end. “Okay, I gotta run. We’re swamped here. Make sure to get some gas; it starts snowing soon.”

“Will do, thanks.” And I hang up.

Adding gas for the generator to my already long shopping list since I don’t know how long I’m going to stay there, I browse the shelves, deciding what else I should get.

Kayla is right; it’s starting to snow, and I’ll most likely be there for a few days until the snow stops and the roads are cleared. And I’m totally okay with that. This scary situation I found myself in won’t go away on its own, but it’ll stay in the background since no one but Kayla knows I’ll be there, and the ownership of the house isn’t connected to my name. So yeah, I should be good.

Not knowing what’s in the pantry and how long ago it expired, I fill the cart with everything I might need (or not) and move to the register. If the fridge there doesn’t work, I’ll just store the perishables outside in a bag.

Standing in the line, I glance at the condoms on the right and suppress the urge to giggle. I don’t remember the last time I had sex. Was it last year? The dating pool of Little Hope is not deep to begin with, but when your brother is the sheriff, it makes it even shallower. All my adventures were done in college and during occasional trips to the big city.

Yeah, I don’t need those, I think as I give the condoms the stink eye as if I have personal beef with them.

Loading the trunk of my sedan, I look around, assessing my surroundings. It has become a sad habit of mine recently. Happy to not replace anything or anyone, I get in the car and punch the address of the house into my GPS. It’s an hour drive deeper into the woods and closer to the Canadian border. Is it a smart idea to stay remote like that by myself in my current situation?

It’s probably better that I stay in town where everyone knows everyone. But that can also be a problem since everyone likes to gossip and spill all the beans about everyone’s business and whereabouts. That’s precisely what happened to Freya and her ex—“helpful” locals. Yeah, it’s a good thing, I decide and drive off. Probably not the smartest move on the other hand, but I’m getting too overwhelmed, and my ability to think doesn’t exist at this point. I don’t like the feeling, so staying in the mountains while no one but Kayla knows doesn’t sound like such a bad idea after all.

A quick stop at the gas station to get some gas for a generator in case the power goes out and a shitty macchiato from the vending machine makes my mood brighter, and I switch my playlist from melancholic to cheerful. While my fellow ginger sings about how he loves the shape of me, I sing along and tap on the wheel, not noticing how bad the snow gets.

It’s only when I turn off the main road that I notice it. Here I can see how the snowflakes become one big mass, pouring down from the sky, quickly covering the road that was obviously cleared before.

Hmm, I hadn’t thought about that before—someone must have plowed the driveway since it’s pretty snow-free considering the amount of snow we’ve had. Alex most likely paid someone to take care of the house in case Freya changes her mind about visiting the place.

I’m glad he did, because even my four-wheel drive sedan wouldn’t be able to drive through anything more than what we have now. Yeah, not very smart of me after all, but there is no going back, since I’m not planning on sliding down the slippery mountain road all the way down to Little Hope.

I’ve never seen the house in person, to be honest. Only the picture Freya showed me, her eyes horrified. I expected some half-broken shed, its windows falling out, but in reality, it’s a cute mini version of a fairytale house.

I climb out of the car and look around—Maine is beautiful, but here, it feels even more untouched. It’s preserved in its raw ferocity with tall mountains and never-ending forests. I feel so small and yet so big. I don’t need to share this beauty with anyone here. It’s all mine.

I don’t understand why Freya wants to get rid of this place—it’s gorgeous. If I had money, I’d buy it in a heartbeat.

As I walk to the house, I notice that the walkway and the stairs are clean from snow as well. Interesting. Someone must have cleaned it very recently. Weird since it’s a remote, seasonal cabin. I don’t know why Alex would pay someone to maintain it, but he clearly does. Kudos to him. I make a mental note to thank him later.

An ounce of sudden dread washes over me as I try the keys—because you never know—but they work. I step inside and let out a loud sigh. The place is amazing. I mean, don’t get me wrong, it’s a shithole, but the potential of it, the feel I’m getting…It’s unexplainable. It feels right.

As soon as you enter the cabin, you pretty much step on the sofa in front of the fireplace. Two beat-up chairs are by its side. The tiny kitchen on the left takes probably a fourth of the whole house. It has a decent sized round breakfast table and two wooden stools. Further into the cabin, there is a bed with two wooden nightstands. Two doors by the kitchen are probably a closet and a bathroom.

I unload the groceries in the kitchen and start making coffee. It’s four p.m. and it’s already getting dark, but it’s never too late for a cup of joe. There’s an old drip coffee maker, and I wonder how Justin, the resident coffee snob, survived here for a whole weekend without a fancy espresso maker. Any coffee will do for me as long as it smells good—I’m not picky.

As I start pouring myself a cup, I hear the engine of a car outside, and lead settles into my stomach. I peek through the window and replace a black Range Rover parking beside my sedan. I don’t know this car, which means only one thing.

My stalker has found me.

I look around for my purse and rush to grab it. Nervously digging inside, I look for the gun I purchased recently and don’t replace it. Shit! I must have forgotten it in the car. And Kenneth calls me smart—I want to facepalm myself. I start running around like I got stung by a bee, looking for a weapon.

After digging through kitchen cabinets, I replace a cast iron pan that weighs a ton. Perfect! I grab it and run to the door. If the intruder tries to get in, a big, heavy surprise will be waiting for him on this side.

But the intruder uses a key that works.

I swallow a dry lump in my throat and quietly take my position by the door, ready to attack. When it flies open, I swing the pan with all my might.

“Fuck!” the person yells and grabs the pan from my hands.

I blindly jump on him, attempting to claw his eyes out. The man is so tall, I have to keep jumping to reach them. He must have dropped the pan because it hits the floor with a loud bang.

“Jesus fuck, stop,” he yells, trying to hold my arms still. “Leila, stop!”

He knows my name.

So what? The other one knows it too.

“Leila!” He gets ahold of my shoulders and shakes them.

And only then do I see the person in front of me. Stephan. Archie.

“Fuck,” I say and jump off. “Shit, I’m sorry.”

“Are you okay?” He eyes me warily, eyeing the pan on the floor.

“Yeah, sorry.” I glance at him and see him rotating his right shoulder with a wince. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hit you.”

His eyes twinkle with humor. “You have a mean hook.”

“The pan does.” I smile weakly.

“That it does.” Then he looks from me to the kitchen. The whole place is tiny. “What are you doing here?”

“Me?” I step backward, looking offended. “What am I doing here?”

“Yes, you,” he repeats, not getting my sarcasm.

“I’m staying at my brother’s vacation home for a few days.” I pop a hip and fold my hands across my chest. “And what are you doing in here?”

“I am staying in my vacation home that I bought from your brother two months ago.” He quirks a brow.

Oh shit.

“Ah-ha. Sure.” I roll my eyes, knowing I’m in deep shit. “And why haven’t you changed the locks if you own the place, huh?”

“Because I didn’t know someone would want to steal something here.” He looks around pointedly. “And I didn’t expect an intruder.” His dark brow quirks up.

Embarrassment creeps up my neck and settles on my cheeks, making me look like a big carrot, I’m sure. Quite often, red hair and skin that’s too white can be a punishment.

His eyes rake over my face, and the corner of his lips lift in a mocking smile. It drives me crazy, so I go to get my phone.

“You made it up. Alex didn’t tell me anything; you’re lying.”

“Yes, he tells you everything about what’s going on since you guys are so close.”

I whip around to face him, wanting to tell him all the ways he can go and fuck himself, but my lower lip quivers. He hit a nerve—my relationship with my half brother has been estranged at best in the past, and I’m still trying to build it back up, so I shut my mouth and change my direction, trying to collect all of my things.

“Shit,” comes a loud sigh behind me, and I choose to ignore it. “I’m sorry, Leila.”

Yeah, he can be sorry all he wants since he knows my own brother better than I ever will.

“Leila,” he calls out, but I keep fidgeting with my clothes, shoving my stuff inside my duffel bag.

“Leila.” He sounds closer, and I turn around to tell him to go to hell, but I freeze when I replace him a few inches away from me. So close I can smell his soap in the air, a hint of alcohol on his lips. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Oh no, you meant it just like that.” I grab my bag, my laptop poking out of it, and angrily walk around him toward the exit.

“Where are you going?” He follows.

“Off your property.” When I’m at the door, I grab my puffy coat and open the door.

And instantly stumble back, hit by the gush of wind in my face. It’s cold. It’s really cold. And the snow is everywhere. It has to be about half a foot deep already.

“You can’t go now.”

I ignore him, walking toward my car—a difficult feat.

“The road is dangerous.”

“That’s not your problem,” I call back over the wind.

“You are my problem while you are here.” His voice drops lower.

“Watch me disappear then.” I climb into the car, turn around, and flip him off. It’s then I notice his face…He’s frozen, his eyes dark. I don’t think he’s blinking.

I don’t have time to analyze his behavior or his reaction to my words—the snow is getting bad, and if I don’t get out of here now, I won’t for a few days. Or worse—I’ll get out now and get stuck on the road or slide off of it. Scratch that—I don’t know what’s worse.

I shut the door, and the sound brings him back to life. He sprints to the car and knocks on the window.

“Leila, you can’t go out there now. It’s not safe.”

“Not your problem,” I singsong, taking off.

To be fair, the takeoff looks less impressive than I intended, since the road is snowed in, but I still manage to do a little sliding and drive toward the side road. The snow is still soft, so I manage to get through, but to be completely honest, it’s not easy and a little scary. Every so often my ABS system kicks on, and I slide to the side. And I’m not even on the highway.

Praying that the main road gets cleaned fast, I look in the rearview mirror. I don’t know what I’m expecting to see there, but I feel a little unsettled leaving him there. I don’t know the man, and the last time we saw each other, he acted like a dick toward me while being sweet as candy to everyone else. I don’t know what gets his panties in a twist when he sees me, but something sure does.

I glance back one last time before returning my gaze to the road, and I don’t have enough time to react when I see a deer running across the driveway. Acting on instinct, I hit the brakes. Never a good idea on a snowy and icy road. My car starts spinning, and when I’m nearing sideways, two wheels take off on the surface, and I think I’m flying.