Chapter Four

The next morning, I get cold feet.

I spend too much time deciding whether I should press forward with the plan or just leave the poor woman alone. Why did such a nice, down-to-earth person have to rent my cabin? This would be so much easier if she was just another prissy tourist that I loved to hate. I'd have no problem emotionally scarring someone like that—actually, I'd enjoy it.

No offense Holly, but I need to do this.I need to stick with my plan. I pull on an old flannel and button it up. I usually don't wear a shirt, not even in the winter. My goal is to make Holly miserable, not scar her beyond repair with my round gut.

There can be no room for error, I remind myself as I tug on a pair of hiking boots. I have too much riding on this to back down now. When I'm all dressed, I unlock the door from my side. Before I push open the door, I close my eyes just in case Holly sleeps in the nude. I highly doubt it, considering how drafty the cabin is at night, but you never know.

"Wake up!" I shout as I push the door open.

"What the—" I hear the bed creak next to me as Holly jerks awake. "Um, excuse me. What are you doing? I thought you said this is my space."

"It is. Don't worry, I'm not looking." With my eyes still closed, I stumble to the kitchen. Once there, with my back turned to her, I open my eyes and grab the metal tin I use to store my coffee grounds. "But it's also the kitchen. So it's your space until I need coffee."

"You said I would have privacy because there's a lock. And I made sure to lock it last night."

I shrug. "Sometimes it works. Sometimes it doesn't. Not my fault. Take it up with the host."

I hear her huff behind me as I pour an ungodly amount of coffee into the stovetop coffee maker. "Coffee?" I ask, turning around once I feel like I've given her enough time to cover herself if she was naked. She's still in bed, in the same clothes she was in yesterday. She shakes her head. Fair enough, she wouldn't like it anyway. I make it so dark you can almost chew it.

"Time to get up," I say as I pour all the coffee into my thermos.

"What? Why?"

I jerk my chin to the fire still burning in the hearth. "We need to cut more wood. You use the firewood; you have to gather more firewood. That's the rule." Not to mention the pile we have will only last us until the afternoon if she insists on keeping the fire going all day. It doesn't matter to me if we run out, but I don't want to have to spend the evening listening to her complain about how cold it is.

She eyes me warily for a moment as if deciding if I'm being serious or not. "Fine," she says, whipping the quilt off her body. "But after that, I'm going back to bed and sleeping the rest of the trip."

As we hike, I don't slow down my long strides for her. I walk fast and with purpose. I know these trails so well; I could hike them in my sleep. And thank the Dark Mother, the avalanche didn't affect my hiking trails or my shack, only Last Hour Road.So far, Holly hasn't complained. Not even a peep. The only sound she makes are the soft huffs and puffs as she jogs a few feet behind me.

After a couple of miles, my conscience gets the best of me, and I decide to slow down my pace to give her a break.

She quickly catches up and matches my stride. "Thanks," she breathes, her entire face flushed pink. I grunt in response. She gives me a sidelong glance. "I see you're wearing a nicer flannel today. Oh . . ." She glances at my torso. "And it's buttoned all the way up? Wow! What's the special occasion?"

I grunt again, immediately regretting my decision to slow down. How could I forget? Humans love to fill space with unnecessary chatter. What's next? She's going to start talking about the weather?

"So, how long have you lived up here?" she asks. For someone who wants to be alone, she sure is talkative.

"A while."

"What made you decide to move up here?"

I give her a pointed look. A look I hope says, "Let's not go there," without me actually having to be a jerk and say it. She takes the hint and shuts up.

We hike for another mile in silence. As we walk, I steal a glance. I peer at her from the corner of my eye, and I'm surprised to find her brown eyes red-rimmed and puffy, like she spent all night crying. I feel a pang of guilt that I didn"t notice her red eyes before.

Was she crying because of me? The azzhole? The knot of guilt tightens in my chest.

"I like to be alone," I say, answering her question.

"Huh?"

"Your question that you asked earlier? Why I moved up here? I like to be alone. That's why I'm here and not in town."

She bites her lip and nods. "Yeah . . . I can understand that," she says in a tight voice.

"Why do you want to be alone for Christmas?" The question falls from my lips before I can stop it. But I am genuinely curious. It's one of the few times of the year humans take time out of their busy lives to come together. Just how Advent of the Honest is for demons. Well, most demons. I prefer to be alone, even during the most sacred holiday.

Holly fidgets with her sleeve. "Christmas is my favorite holiday. I go all out every year. I host parties. I go to the Nutcracker and the Festival of Lights. I make homemade cookies and eggnog. I visit all the holiday bazaars that pop up. It's my busiest time of year." She sighs. "But I got divorced recently, and I don't know, I just don't feel like being around all the happy couples and happy families this year. I guess I need a break from all the holiday cheer."

"So you miss your ex?" I ask.

Her eyes widen with surprise. Shit. I'm overstepping. I've been away from people for so long I'd forgotten you don't ask every question that pops into your head. But it's too late now; the question is out there.

She laughs. Mother Below. She really is too nice for her own good. "Uh, I don't, actually. I don't miss him at all. Is that crazy?" she says as if she doesn't quite believe it herself.

"I don't know." I've never been married, and I definitely shouldn't be weighing in on what's normal and what's not. This is the most words I've spoken in a long time, excluding yesterday. That's not normal behavior.

"I don't miss him because I grieved our relationship a long time ago, way before we signed the divorce papers. Don't get me wrong, I love him, and I wish the best for him, but our marriage was a joke. I knew that pretty much from the beginning. I wasn't a wife. I was just his personal chef, his housekeeper, his second mommy, and his bank account with legs. I did everything for that man for ten years."

I raise my eyebrows. She knew that from the beginning? "Why did you stay married to him for so long?"

She huffs a laugh, shaking her head. "It's stupid." When I give her a pointed look, she sighs, and continues, "You know how some people stay married because of the kids? Well, I was staying married for Melinda's sake, my mother-in-law." She winces. "Ex-mother-in-law. I married Jeremy when I was only eighteen. I was a kid. I didn't know what I was doing. I didn't have a mom growing up and Melinda took me in with open arms. She gave me that motherly love I had always craved. And I don't know, I got so used to her affection, I was afraid to leave. I wasn't worried about losing Jeremy; I was worried about losing her. I love Christmas because of my mother-in-law. We did everything together during the holidays. Everything!"

She sighs, shaking her head. "She knew how much Jeremy and I struggled. How much I struggled. And after he quit his last job before he even finished his first shift, that was it. I had hit my breaking point and I couldn't do it anymore. I couldn't support that man-child any longer, and I thought Melinda would be sympathetic—she's his mother, after all. She knows how difficult he is. I stupidly assumed she would understand. I figured things might be strained between us after the divorce, but she and I were close. I thought we would figure out a way to stay friends, despite everything. But after signing the papers, she just disappeared from my life. Ten years. She was in my life for ten years. And just like that—poof! She's gone."

Holly blinks quickly. "Sorry," she says with a sniff, dabbing at the corners of her eyes. "I don't mean to dump all my baggage on you. Sometimes when I start talking, I can't stop."

"It's okay. I understand," I murmur. Her words resonate deep within my bones. I know that feeling of people you love the most turning their backs on you when you need them the most.

"You do?" she says in a hushed voice. She smiles softly at me, and I can't tell if she's about to cry again. Despite her blurry eyes, the warmth of her smile feels like a sucker-punch to the gut. When was the last time someone smiled at me like that?

I rub my cheek, feeling suddenly tired. Holly doesn't deserve the full "azzhole" treatment. Life has been kicking her around enough. Maybe instead of a 1-star review, I can adjust my plan and give her a trip worthy of a 2 or even 3-star.

Three-star is too dangerous. I'll aim for a safe but solid 2.5.

I don't need to add any more to her suffering. She's miserable enough.