Chapter 13

CHAPTER 13

I gulp.

Everly laughs. "I mean bitch as a compliment, though you're definitely sneaky. I can't believe you lost your scholarship and still decided to fly all the way to Canada to see if anyone would notice. You have some nerve."

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck .

I feel like the forest has turned into a black hole, and I'm sinking, no way to climb out.

"My goodness, Syd," she says to me. "You look absolutely terrified. Come on. I'm allowed to make fun. You definitely proved how devoted you are to working at Madrona."

"I'm sorry," I whisper. It's all I can say.

"Don't be sorry," she says. "Well, I shouldn't say that. Your apology is necessary and appreciated. But it's done now. Come on, let's get you inside."

She grabs my hand and pulls me along around the lodge, past the cedar where I always see Kincaid standing. I glance up at my window, wondering what he sees when I'm there. The light in my room is on, which means he can see me clearly.

Strange thing to think about, considering you're about to be sent home.

I follow Everly into the lodge, but instead of going upstairs, she takes me to the couch nearest to the hearth, the flames low. "Here, sit. I'll get the fire going."

She goes and grabs a couple of logs from the basket and throws them in. They crackle and pop, embers and sparks. Then she walks to the hot water dispenser and grabs a mug, plopping a tea bag inside, and fills it.

I stare back at the fire, watching as the flames rise, feeling sick to my stomach. I want to keel over right here, crawl into a ball, and simply disappear.

Everly comes over with the tea and hands me the mug. "Chamomile. Should help you sleep after all this commotion and warm you up."

I wrap my cold fingers around it. "Thank you," I say quietly.

"You know, I think it's ridiculous that they took your scholarship away. You didn't do anything wrong. He's the one who did."

I wince, closing my eyes. "Great. You know everything."

"Sydney. It happens," she says, sitting beside me and putting her hand on my knee. "So you had an affair with your professor. You wouldn't be the first."

I give her a pained look. "I didn't know he was married. He never wore a ring, never mentioned a wife or anyone. He lied by omission."

"Men lie," she says simply. "Especially men with power. They gaslight you."

He certainly did. It was Professor Edwards' daughter who found out about the two of us. She sent me a threatening message on my Instagram, telling me the truth about her mother and father, which then made me spiral. I drank too much and then found out his real address and made my way over there to confront him. He answered the door, and I called him every name in the book, except I was so drunk I wasn't making much sense. His daughter stood behind him, recording the whole thing on her phone. The way she framed it, it looked like I had turned into some drunken and obsessed stalker.

The only saving grace was that school was officially done for the year, so I didn't have to return to campus to face him in my chemistry class or see the looks of my fellow students because I know that video went viral. I thought maybe if I just stayed offline, I would escape from all of this unscathed.

And then the school called.

And that was that.

"I'm really sorry," I say again, my shame as hot as the fire. "I shouldn't have come here. I should have let you know. You flew me all the way out here for no reason. I'm sorry I pretended. I just…I was scared. It's no excuse, but I had nowhere else to go. I lost everything, and?—"

"Syd," she says sharply, though her eyes are kind. "It's alright. I understand. As I said before, you have nerve, and that's a really admirable trait. That shows guts. That shows risk. That shows you are willing to do things that other people are not willing to do. You are willing to lie and cheat to get ahead. Your ambition is that strong, and ambition is what creates geniuses."

I look down at my tea, waiting for the other shoe to drop, the part where she says but you have to go home .

"Does everyone know?" I ask meekly. "Does Kincaid?"

"Yes," she says. "All the staff know of this." She pauses, and I don't dare look at her. "You really care what Wes thinks, don't you?"

I'm not about to answer that. I make my face as blank as possible, the mask held tight. The absolute last thing I need is for her to think that I'm interested in Kincaid, much like I was interested in Professor Edwards. Of course, I have a type. An older man, intelligent, successful in his field, dominant in bed with a penchant for ropes and whips and some good old-fashioned degradation and praise kink. But Kincaid is only the latter in my dreams.

"I don't want anyone thinking ill of me," I finally say, my voice steady.

"They don't," she says. "They all feel the way that I do."

I exhale heavily and take a sip of tea. It's too hot. "So, do I have time to say my goodbyes, or are you shipping me off next morning on the first plane, like Amani?"

She tenses beside me, and when I look at her, she's frowning. "No." Then she shakes her head. "No. We're not sending you back, Syd. You're here to stay."

My eyes widen, a flicker of hope in my chest. "Are you serious?" She nods. "But why?"

"Because of everything I just told you. Your ambition. You're still ambitious, aren't you? You're still ready to prove yourself, to give yourself to the foundation, to leave your mark on the world?"

"Yes?"

"I don't believe you. Once more with feeling."

"Yes!" I say, louder now.

"Good girl," she says, activating my need for praise. "Now, finish your tea and get warm. The power will come back soon. I'm going to head back home and get some sleep. I suggest you do too."

"Okay," I say. Though I think I'd rather fall asleep on the couch in the common room than go back to my bed. "Thank you."

She gets up and stares down at me, then reaches out and brushes a strand of hair off my face. "Such lovely hair," she says. "Blonde really suits you."

I try not to blush nor reject the compliment. "Thank you."

"Remember, you're family now," she says, straightening up. "You're part of Madrona. If you ever feel at odds with this place, you just have to tell yourself: don't try to change the lodge, let the lodge change you."

Then she gives me a sweet smile and walks off, closing the door behind her and leaving me alone with the crackling fire.

Relief immediately floods through my body, and I practically melt into the couch.

I did it.

The truth finally came out.

I don't have to hide or worry anymore.

You're safe , I tell myself. The worst is over, and you survived.

But why does it feel like I'm lying?

"Heavens, Sydney, are you alright?"

A hand vigorously shakes my shoulder, making me wince.

I open my eyes and glare up at Michelle, who is staring down at me, her eyes wild with fright, her lips a shocking pink. The room is bright, and I blink.

"I'm fine," I say with a groan, sitting up. I look down and see a fleece blanket draped over my body, a star symbol stitched in the corner, but I don't remember Everly putting one on me.

"Do I need to get David? Or Everly? Is it your head?" Michelle is flapping her hands like a bird.

"I'm fine," I repeat. "Please. I was with Everly last night. I decided to sleep here. It was…warmer." She definitely doesn't need to know what happened last night.

"Oh," she says, hand on her chest. "What a relief."

Then she bustles off toward reception.

I exhale and look up at the wood beams, hearing footsteps and doors closing from above. The sun gets up so early here, and it's already streaming in through the windows, making the dust motes dance. The idea of going to my room seemed impossible last night, but in the light of day, with students beginning to wake, I don't feel as scared anymore.

I get up and fold up the blanket, taking it upstairs with me in case the power goes out again and I need the warmth. I stop outside my door, hesitating. Up here, there are no windows, and the hall is dim, though hearing someone's alarm clock go off comforts me.

I insert the key and quickly open the door.

It looks the same as always, the covers pushed to the side. Whoever was in my room didn't touch anything. Still, I slowly walk around to make sure. If my missing Miss Piggy shirt reappears like my shoes did, it really means I've lost my marbles.

But I don't see it. I walk into the bathroom, to the mirror, and stare at myself. My face doesn't seem as gaunt as it did a week ago, which is a good thing. I'm starting to look more like myself, more like the person I was before I came to Madrona.

I don't want the lodge to change me, no matter what their motto is. I want to stay Sydney Denik, even though she's a fucked up hot mess.

Who apparently has a ghost problem.

That had to be what it was, right? A ghost?

I know I saw that woman in the hallway.

But what if you didn't? I think. What if you thought you did? What if it was Natasha, and she went into her room instead, and you got confused? What if it was Clayton who went into your room and locked you out? What if no one locked you out and you were just pulling on the door wrong, or perhaps because you left the key in the door, it somehow relocked itself?

And what if it was Kincaid?

I don't know what to think, but the most logical reasoning is that there was no ghost, it was Natasha, and I was the one who locked myself out. It at least makes the most sense. After all, I did hit my head. Maybe it's a delayed concussion fucking up my brain a bit.

I get dressed into a pair of ripped stretchy jeans and a long plaid shirt, tie back my hair, and decide to go for a walk before breakfast since it's early enough. I bring my puffer jacket since the night had been so cold and head outside.

The morning is still bright, blue-skied, and filled with birdsong, the sunlight making me wish I brought sunglasses. I've barely had a need for them here.

I decide to head up to the logging road, wanting to feel the openness it affords and the sun on my face. I glance at my watch. If I go for twenty minutes, then turn around and come back, I'll be just in time to catch breakfast.

I'm about five minutes into the walk, sweating enough to unzip my jacket, when suddenly, it goes dark.

As in, the sun just disappears.

I glance up to see storm clouds, fluffy and charcoal-covered, making the world turn a shade of dark grey. There hadn't been a cloud in the sky earlier, and yet, like a switch has turned off, it's overcast.

The air becomes chilled, and I shiver, zipping my jacket back up, but it does nothing to keep me warmer.

Something isn't right.

All of this is terribly wrong.

I look around, trying to figure out what it is.

The light is different. It's not just grey and dim, but…it's weak.

I make a fist, my fingers already feeling numb. I hold my hands to my mouth and breathe on them, my exhale turning into clouds.

Then I hear laughter. From somewhere up ahead, around the bend.

"Hello!" I yell.

The laughter gets louder. A woman. Everly?

A man starts laughing too. Could be Michael, though I can't imagine him laughing.

I start walking faster, and then I'm jogging, running around the bend until I come to a halt.

There's no one there.

The laughter has stopped.

The road is an empty straightaway for a bit before it curves down around another corner.

At that corner, a lone maple resides amongst a copse of cedars and hemlock.

The maple tree is dead.

Nearly all the branches are bare, with big brown and rust-colored leaves spread out along the road.

What the hell?

I'm staring at the tree, wondering what happened to it, when I hear twigs snapping in the woods.

I gasp, twisting around.

Fear chokes my throat, and I listen, wide-eyed, straining to see, to hear.

Snap.

There's someone moving amongst the trees.

A dark shape in the forest, walking parallel to me.

"Who is that?" I cry out. "What do you want?"

Suddenly, the sun comes out again, my vision going white, my hands above my eyes as I wince through it.

Kincaid emerges from the trees, dressed in his black coat.

There you are, as always . The thought flits across my mind.

"I'm sorry," he says, looking mildly flustered. "I didn't mean to scare you. I was worried. I—" He frowns, his gaze sharpening. "Jesus, are you alright?" He gestures to his nose. "You're bleeding."

"What?" I bring my fingers under my nostrils and touch my skin. It's wet. I take it away to see fresh blood.

My stomach churns. I hate nosebleeds.

"Oh, shit," I say as he strides over to me, fishing in his coat pockets. He takes out a navy handkerchief. Of course he would have a handkerchief.

I take it from him and hold it under my nose, feeling like an idiot. The cloth smells like him, that warm tobacco and wood that makes me feel like I'm draped in a warm blanket.

"Do you get nosebleeds often?" he asks, standing close, too close. Normally I wouldn't mind, but not when I have blood pouring from my nose.

"I used to get them all the time as a child, but not since then," I say, my voice nasal. I give him an awkward look. "This is mortifying."

He studies me with those cool grey eyes, the color reminding me of the weather's quick change. The temperature is creeping back up by the second.

I frown at him, realizing he must have been following me. "Were you on bear patrol again?"

His head shakes faintly, and he swallows. He has a gorgeous neck, something I don't think I've ever admired in a man before. Then my gaze goes to his lips, full and firm, lips I never kissed in my dream.

His mouth looks like he's holding back secrets.

"I was worried about you."

"So you said."

He gives me a sympathetic tilt of the head. "I know about what happened last night. I also know that you shouldn't be walking off into the woods alone when you have a head injury."

"So you're my guardian angel?"

"I'm no one's angel," he says darkly. He puts his hand at the small of my back. "But I like to think I can protect you. Come. Let's walk back. You don't want to miss breakfast."

"Protect me from what?" I ask as we walk side by side. His hand lingers on me for a few seconds more before it falls away.

"From yourself," he says.

"You don't know anything about me," I tell him, feeling annoyed.

"You keep saying that, and yet, every day, I know more and more," he says softly, hands clasped behind his back. "One day, I'll know everything."

My stomach flips at his assuredness. "You won't like what you find."

"I like what I've found so far," he says, gazing steadily at me. "I like it very much." He clears his throat and looks away. "This place can mess with your mind, Syd. I'm sure you're discovering that by now. The isolation…"

"Is it just the isolation?" I ask.

His dark brows come together. "What do you mean?"

I shrug. "I don't know. Just seems like there's something about this place. Something I can't explain."

"Like rabid wolves in the forest?"

"Something like that." I rub my lips together, unsure if I should continue.

Don't tell him everything , I think.

He exhales loudly. "I know we keep talking about the isolation here and the lack of contact with the outside world, for students at least, but it really does play tricks on the mind. Enough so that students have become a danger to themselves." He pauses. "There's always the threat of suicide."

He says that last part so quietly that it takes a moment to register.

I stop walking. "You mean someone killed themselves? Here?"

He turns to look at me. "Yes. The first death was the hardest."

"The first death? How many people have died here?"

He stares at me for a moment, his jaw tight.

"Four."