Chapter Ten

Usually, I'd make breakfast for everyone since I'm the early riser, but today I just snack on some cheese and fruit. Long sleeves and leggings later, they're still in bed as I tuck in the frayed laces of my sneakers and walk down the driveway. The smell of smoke from last night's fire permeates through the air.

I wish we'd come during the Fall or Winter when we were growing up. During the Christmas holidays, my father sent us off to his sister Juliette's to run around with her five boys and swim in their heated California pool, but seeing the beauty of the lake turn cold makes me wish we'd been here.

Maybe we'll do this again. It'll be our grown-up tradition. The worst is over anyway; I saw Adam, which was more of a salted experience than expected, so maybe I can finally let the past go and move on.

Walking up the winding road around the mountain, I only hear my breath and my steps. Whatever happens in the few houses behind the trees stays indoors. I'm practically alone with the squirrels and falling leaves and, God-willing, not the serial killers. Or bears. Or foxes.

Do foxes attack? Are they dangerous? I should probably know that. It seems like a question I'm going to be asked one day and being shamed by a six-year-old for not knowing something they most definitely know is one of the most humiliating things an adult can endure. Kids know random animal facts. They know what they're doing when they ask those questions.

They know.

I pick up my pace and relax my shoulders, wishing I hadn't thought about serial killers. It would never have bothered me if I hadn't thought about it. Now my head's whipping around, on high alert, and I'm going to give myself a stress-induced stroke and with the amount of red wine I had last night, that'll for sure kill me before any murderer does.

There is a sound, though.

I turn around, expecting nothing yet confronted with a red-coated creature bounding on four legs toward me. I freeze, even as the dog comes clearer into view. "Hello," I mutter.

Without a sound, he pushes at my outstretched hand and circles my body, tongue out.

"Are you going to eat me?" I ask.

The dog's tail wags.

"Bring me back to your companion and his knives?"

The dog presses his nose to the palm of my hand.

"I guess not." I give the feathered edges of his retriever mix ears a toss. A gold ID tag dangles from a bright red collar. "Hi there, Copper. Where did you come from?"

I glance around to see a human, but there's no accompaniment to the sound of Copper's panting. He bumps my legs repeatedly for a pet. There's also no address on the collar, just a phone number, and I didn't bring my phone.

I'm a serial killer's dream target.

"Come on, Copper, back home with me for a bit," I say, hoping he will follow and reminding myself to bring my phone even if it's inconvenient because, obviously, I am not alone out here in these woods.

Copper runs ahead of me, staying along the road. He's clearly a people dog. He doesn't have any interest in going astray, just stops and waits when he's gone too far ahead.

"Copper!" comes a woman's voice from the woods.

I've just reached the driveway of Heddy's house, so I look at the cabin far into the distance.

"There you are!" says the voice, much closer than I expected and in the opposite direction.

A woman hurries down the street toward us. Copper and I walk to meet her and stand in front of Adam's house.

"Oh my God! I'm so sorry," the woman says earnestly. She tucks short dark hair behind her ears and pushes up the sleeves of her knitted cat sweatshirt. "He just took off, and he's never done that before!"

"It's fine," I reply, watching her crouch down and allow Copper to lick her in the face.

She stands. "At least you found him and not a bear or some crazed land-hungry hunter."

"No, he found me." I give him a quick pat. "And I'm glad he wasn't a bear or hunter. I just realized how vulnerable I am out here…you're not going to murder me, are you?"

She smiles at my joking tone. "And deal with the coverup? No, thank you, too much work."

I holster finger guns, and she laughs, ruffling Copper's fur.

"Well, this guy is harmless," she insists. "I'm just not used to dog-duty. I'm a bit more of a cat lady myself. But Copper wanted to come outside with me, so I let him and then – whoosh! He just took off. I was about to wake up my brother and tell him I'm not dealing with it. This is not my dog!"

"He seems very sweet," I say. Copper sits politely while I stroke his soft head. I kneel to his level. "I lost my golden mix a year ago. She looked just like Copper, actually. A little smaller, darker around the ears." I hold his sweet face in my hands and his tongue slides out to lick my palm.

"What was her name?"

"Amber." I sit up and smile, remembering my perfect girl. "I got her just after my sixteenth birthday. We had quite a few adventures together."

The woman suddenly steps back. "Oh my God, you're Vienna?"

I stand tall. "Yes?"

She sticks her hand to her chest. "I'm Maggie, Adam's sister!" Her thumb juts toward the house. "Just when you were talking, I saw your sister's face for a moment and then I remembered a picture Adam has from that summer you all met. Amber's in it!"

Picture? I don't remember all of us taking a picture together, but we might have done. Adam and I certainly wouldn't have stood near each other, to keep up the rouse, but he seems like the type to have kept photographic proof of his and David's bromance.

I smile politely. "Oh yeah, she followed me around all summer."

"We missed you so much at dinner last night. I wish you could have joined us."

"Yeah, you know, Alice's stomach wouldn't allow her to leave home." I laugh self-deprecatingly. "That's what I'm good for! In-house babysitter."

Sad, single aunt duty , I almost add.

I hate this version of myself, but I don't know what else to do or say. My focus starts on Copper and then moves to the road ahead, denying my desire to stare at Adam's house, and I open my mouth to bid Maggie farewell.

Her cheeks pinch as she sizes me up. "They were talking about that summer a bunch last night. It was fun to hear."

"Oh yeah?" I respond, my interest piqued. I try not to look too eager to know what Adam said. It wouldn't have been about me anyway. "What did they talk about?"

"Well, I just thought it was weird that you and Adam didn't hang out," she says with a raised brow. "The three of them said you weren't around much. It struck me as odd since you both are the same age and you're obviously his type. He would have never shied away from –"

"What type?" I blurt out. My heart knocks against my chest.

Absently, she responds, "Well, you're very pretty. So, there's that . He was an eighteen-year-old boy, after all. But even more, Adam always liked girls who were natural. Themselves. From what Francesca said, you come across quite… solid ." She smiles against the morning sun. "Even this tiny bit I've spoken to you, you seem like you could withstand the force of someone else's opinion."

My throat goes dry. It must be a family thing, that word: solid. It's one of the first compliments Adam ever paid me.

We'd been in town, getting ice cream early in the summer. I had on ripped jean shorts that were too long to be cute, an oversized Captain's Lake shirt, and worn dirt-ridden mesh water shoes. My hair was a tangled mess. David and Francesca sat with his local friends at a table far away, the girls all cute in jean skirts and halter tops and more makeup than a drag queen.

I felt too bad about myself to sit with them. I was surprised when Adam joined me on the bench.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"Nothing," I mumbled, glancing at a townie girl who stared at me. She laughed. I couldn't know the reason for her reaction, but my insecurities attacked. "I just feel a little ugly right now."

He slid an inch closer to me. Our shoulders touched. "Well, you're not," he offered.

I threw him a look. "Just let me hate myself for a second."

" No ." He bounced his sneakers against my shoes.

He didn't look quite as disheveled as me, but he didn't have a sweater tied around his shoulders and squeaky-clean hands. I knew those things didn't matter to the well-dressed girls primping themselves and pretending to listen to Francesca speak. An attractive boy is an attractive boy. They could buy him new clothes.

"You don't have to sit with me," I winced.

Adam caught my wrist, the first time he ever touched me on purpose. "I like sitting with you. I like talking to you. And getting to know you."

"Even though I'm not cute and pretty?" I snapped, shoveling ice cream into my mouth.

He insisted, "You're everything you want to be, Vienna." He paused. I swallowed my ice cream.

I'd never looked at anyone as if no one else existed. I'd never felt part of a duet that only I could hear. Every other relationship in my life had fallen into place normally, through family, school, cheerleading. Looking at Adam right then was a choice with unknown consequences.

His hand settled on the wood bench beside mine. His fingers spread. Then, he covered my skin with his warm grip. Looking at our connection, he continued, "You're solid. Steady. You're not going to let anyone tell you who to be."

Presently, I push away that memory because I wasn't what Adam thought and I did exactly the opposite of what he said. I did everything someone told me to do.

Opposite Maggie, I laugh out of my thoughts, tightening my ponytail.

"Well, we didn't spend a lot of time together that summer because I'm not super outdoorsy," I say. "They were always hiking and boating and wanting to be outside. I'm more of an indoor gal. Big fan of air conditioning. You could get me outside now but there's got to be food and a flask involved."

"Well, a solid lady knows who she is," Maggie laughs.

We watch Copper sniff around piles of leaves.

She adds, "I honestly don't know who Adam's type would be nowadays, he's so secretive."

Don't ask. Don't ask. Don't ask.

"Like…what kind of girls does he date?" I force out.

She shakes her head. "Short-term ones." She raises her pointer finger. "But I know he's capable of deeper. Something happened along the way that made him stop eating strawberry ice cream."

The screen door slams and both of us look in its direction. Adam stands just outside the porch, fixing the collar of his layered shirt. His head swivels side to side.

"Ads, over here!" Maggie calls out.

I take a step backward, thinking about strawberry ice cream, and announce, "Thanks for the chat, Maggie, but I'm gonna head out on my run!"

"Wait, wait." She gestures for Adam to come towards us. "I hear you're a fabulous cook, Vienna."

As Adam joins our pairing, he and I reply simultaneously, " Baker ." He kneels to pet Copper and focuses solely on that act.

I flash back to his hands tussling Amber's floppy ears.

With a wobbly voice, I explain, "I cook, for sustenance, and because Francesca demands it, but baking is more my passion."

"Well –" Maggie picks a fallen leaf off her shoulder. "I am bringing a dessert tonight, and I'm horrible in the kitchen. I'll probably end up getting something premade, but if I decide to make something from scratch, what's the one thing I can't mess up?"

I pause. The question hangs and I can't not answer it. "Brownies," I say quickly, and then: "What's happening tonight?"

"Dinner," Adam says, standing upright. He scratches at the bridge of his nose, dark eyes drilling into mine. "Fran invited us for dinner."

We're focused on one another now. I'm talking with my eyes, and he's challenging me to say something. His gaze once felt like being held, now I feel like I'm being backed into a corner.

"Oh," is all I manage.

His right eyebrow lifts. "Problem?"

"No." I kick a stone. "That's great. So great. I'm glad. Everyone eats. Obviously. Heddy has a big dining room and it's just begging for a dinner party."

Maggie laughs. "I've heard about Heddy's house. My parents always said an eccentric family lived next door, and I've been dying to see inside ever since. Fran told us some stories last night. Heddy seems like my kind of people."

"She's okay," Adam replies. "A little overbearing."

He liked Heddy. Is he talking about that day?

His neck muscles tense. "And that dining room is a little suffocating."

He is talking about that day.

We were in the dining room listening to my father tell us we couldn't marry, that we were too young, we barely knew each other. He refused to pay for my college or ever speak to me again, and I remember reaching for Adam's hand under the table and not being able to find it.

Emboldened by the cool wind, I decide to pick at wounds.

"What is your favorite part of the house?" I ask.

He squints. "The woods in between our houses."

Adam stares me down, and there's no mistaking his statement. The woods are a barrier, a boundary, a place that belongs to both of us and neither of us, just like whatever feelings we once shared.

We hang for a second in our thoughts, an imperceptible handshake of acknowledgment exchanged, and Maggie continues, oblivious, "Brownies sound good! I can empty a box and stir in an egg."

"Sounds good," I say with a polite smile. "Let me know if you need help."

"I will!" she calls out as I jog off, turning my back as quickly as possible. Before I get too far away, I hear her say to Adam, "Oh, brother ."