1. Into The Forest

ONE

INTO THE FOREST

Nine hours and fifty-two minutes, not counting the twenty-minute stop for lunch. That was how long it took me to get here.

All that, only to end up in a white purgatory with nothing but snow, trees, snow, mountains, snow, and a road in front of me. No other cars, no houses, not even a traffic sign for twenty miles because there was just nothing to announce.

If it weren’t for the map app on my phone, which said it was only ten miles to go, I wouldn’t be so sure. Not to mention the little orange sign in the shape of a gas pump on my dashboard that had been flashing at me for at least half an hour.

Ever since I left the middle of nowhere in the south to drive to bumfuck nowhere in the north, my hand kept reaching for the back of my neck. There was a little itch that wouldn’t go away—a pinch as if the world’s smallest cat was hiding in the collar of my sweater, occasionally coming out to scratch me. But there was no cat. Not even an insect. I made sure of that during my lunch break by nearly breaking my neck, trying to get a look at it in the tiny mirror in the passenger seat visor.

I should have just called it off and told them I couldn’t make it up here with the FDA start date coming up, that I couldn’t waste my time doing a teenager’s job. But who was I kidding?

I was on my way to my first job in four months. Dog sitting. House sitting. The easiest job in the world. One I had done for years before and during college. The only one I could think of going back to after everything that had happened this year. I applied out of a lack of options, long before my dad used his connections to get me an interview for a ‘real job,’ as he had put it. But if there’s one thing my parents love, it’s seeing things through, so I had an excellent excuse to come here anyway. Taking care of the McCormac's old Labrador wasn't a job. It was a vacation I was getting paid for. A change of scenery that would hopefully help me either figure shit out or at least let me get some sleep again. No one here knew me, which meant no questions about what happened. No pitying eyes as I struggled for words to explain. And I was low-key excited about it. If only it weren’t for this damn snow.

A sign appeared at the end of the road. Finally. One arrow pointed straight ahead, proclaiming that it was only four miles to Seastone, the other to the right, with a— drumroll —gas station symbol next to it. I let out a deep sigh, relieved that at least one of my wishes had been granted.

Just as I put my blinkers on, not that anyone was around to see them, the itch flared up as if the tiny cat now had a crossbow and was shooting tiny arrows at my neck. I dug in with my fingernails, scratching as hard as I could until a jolt shot through my body and made me gasp.

The tips of my index and middle fingers were now dipped in a deep, viscous red. What a nuisance.

“Merry Christmas, idiot,” I scolded myself.

It didn’t help that the radio played one Christmas song after the other as if it were the season of joy.

Newsflash: For many of us, it isn’t.

I clutched the steering wheel with my left hand and, not having a handkerchief handy, rubbed my fingers against my black jeans to get rid of the blood.

The woman on the radio sighed. “I can’t remember the last time we had a real white Christmas, Kenneth.” Her voice was so high that it was a wonder that not only dogs could hear her.

“Not since I was young, Barbara,” Kenneth replied. I could see his fake smile before my eyes. “But we should all take precautions because the weather report says there’s a chance we’ll see even more snow?—”

I turned off the radio. If I kept listening to their overly happy voices, it was only a matter of time before my ears started bleeding, too. The whole point of coming here was to get away from it all. Away from my nagging parents, the three hundred thousand dollars in student debt, the questions of why I was changing careers so suddenly, and the holiday of pretending to be happy when you’re not.

On the roof, visible from the highway, was a pine green corporate logo announcing the nearby gas station as part of the Taft Gas conglomerate.

The map app on my phone complained as I made the unplanned turn. But unlike my parents, I could silence that voice with the press of a button.

I pulled up to the pump closest to the road. A sign was taped to each of the four pumps.

Get ready for the blizzard and fill up now. If the weather matches the forecast, we will be closed.

How reassuring.

For the last four winters, they had predicted that ‘this was going to be the worst one of the decade,’ and then I didn’t even see any snow, except for a thin layer one morning in March that was gone by noon.

Sure, it had snowed around here. There were giant piles all around me at the gas station, but that was misleading. Piles of snow always made it look like there was more than there actually was.

After turning off the engine, I leaned over to the glove compartment and fumbled for a travel-size pack of tissues. Carefully, I patted one over the wound on my neck. A glance revealed only a tiny red dot on the otherwise white tissue, telling me it had dried enough.

I put on my gloves, scarf, and beanie, hoping this would be enough for the three minutes I would spend outside. As soon as I opened the door, the cold air crawled under my sweater like some creep who wanted to feel me up. Stifling a shudder, I yanked the back door open, grabbed my black winter jacket from the back seat, and threw it around my shoulders, trying my best not to growl.

I slid my credit card into the pump, pulled out the nozzle, and walked to the back of my car. I pushed the gas lid so it would pop open, and just as I brought the nozzle to the hole, I stopped.

The corners of my mouth twitched, and my nostrils flared.

Why had that image popped into my head?

Sure, the nozzle looked like an… interesting part of the male anatomy, and I was about to put it into a hole .

But damn it.

I was twenty-seven years old. Like any proper adult , I should be focusing on my anxiety, not laughing at something so childish .

The belching exhaust of an approaching car distracted me from my giggling enough to insert the nozzle without further imagining the filthy image.

A light blue pickup truck, which looked like it was held together only by duct tape and good hopes, came to a stop behind me. A guy about my age was behind the wheel, and wow . I had to do a double-take. His well-trimmed beard, the deep brown eyes I knew I could get lost in, the way his right ear tilted to his shoulder when he noticed me staring— handsome. I hadn’t expected to encounter someone as young and attractive as him in a dead town like this.

I focused on the pump in my hand. I couldn’t come to a place where everybody probably knew everyone else and just stare at people like I was in a zoo.

A creak announced the opening of the car door behind me. It took all my willpower not to look a third time.

“Noah?” asked a surprised voice that could only be his.

The cold crept into my stomach and made it churn. How did he know my name? I turned to him, now greeted by a smile that could move mountains, but as antisocial as I had become in the last year, I raised my eyebrows at him. “Do we know each other?”

My eyes wandered from his head to his toes. He wore tight blue jeans and a warm-looking yellow plaid jacket that he left open as if it wasn’t freezing. His ears protruded from his head as if waving at me.

I had no idea who he was.

He pointed his right hand at his chest. “Jack? From General Biology?” His bushy brows twitched, making his eyes look full of hope that I would remember him. “Penn State? We did a group project together, and you lent me your notes a few times.”

I took those general biology classes six years ago. I lent my notes to dozens of people who were gone as fast as I met them. I searched my brain for his image because I couldn’t believe I wouldn’t remember someone like him, but nothing came up.

Worse , I couldn’t believe how spectacularly I had failed in my attempt to escape all the probing questions and people I knew. Was this some kind of cosmic joke? Like in ancient Greece? The harder I tried to avoid something, the more certain it was to happen?

I giggled nervously.

“How have you been?” he asked but didn’t stop there—almost as if he wanted to save me the embarrassment of admitting that I did not know who he was. “What are you doing here in Seastone?” A cheerful laugh accompanied his questions. “Did you get lost?”

Lost wasn’t the worst word to describe it.

“I’ll be in town for a few days,” I replied, my head spinning as I tried to figure out why I couldn’t place his beautiful face.

“Do you have family here?”

“No.” The pump in my hand jumped slightly as it stopped. I turned to it and wiggled it around to shake out the last drops and pursed my lips. Another dirty image in my mind.

Could this please stop? I was on the verge of a nervous breakdown because my life choices seemed to follow me everywhere I went. I didn’t need to think about sex right now.

But my stupid brain wouldn’t listen to me and let a chuckle escape my mouth.

Jack kept his smile but raised his eyebrows as if trying to figure out what was so funny.

“No, I…” I didn’t want to tell him why I was in Seastone. Not about the whole running away from my responsibilities thing. Not about the dog-sitting job. I didn’t need any more people to join the Inquisition. So I stupidly laughed in his face. “It’s more like a vacation ?”

“In Seastone?” Jack waved it off. “I get it. You don’t have to tell me.” His smile was still on me while his eyes wandered knowingly to the floor. He didn’t say it, but his whole body almost screamed that he knew that this town wasn’t a place where people who had made it in life went.

He reached into his jacket and pulled out a card. “Seastone can get pretty boring and lonely, especially around the holidays.” He held his hand out to me, and I reached for the card without thinking about it. “Let me know if you want to hang out and have a drink or something.”

I looked at the card because I felt obligated to do so.

Jack Norlander

Home Services Expert

(555) 555 5555

How did he go from pursuing a degree in veterinary medicine to… whatever a Home Services Expert does?

“Check out the Mountain View Cafe. They sell some pretty dope bagels, and the coffee is hot and strong.”

I refrained from replying, ‘Just the way I like my men,’ because ‘what’s going on, brain? ’ and instead smiled foolishly as if this was the first conversation I ever had with an attractive man.

“Well, I don’t want to keep you from getting to glorious Seastone.” He waved, gave me one last smile, and walked into the gas station shop.

What the hell just happened? All I wanted was gas, and instead, I got dirty images in my head and some guy’s phone number.

Was this a sign? And if so, how should I interpret it? To fuck my past?

By the time I arrived in the valley, I had already forgotten about Jack.

The McCormacs owned a rustic two-story house near the center of town, though ‘near the center of town’ sounded fancier than it was. In a place as small as Seastone, everything was close.

The trunk of a brand-new gray Lexus in the driveway was open, with two suitcases stacked inside. A hunchbacked woman paced in the front yard.

I rolled down my window. “Mrs. McCormac?”

Her eyes twitched at first, then opened to a broad smile. “I’m so glad you could make it, Mr. Atchley.”

Knowing that I had found the right place, I parked in the street, zipped up my jacket, and made my way over. I held out my open hand to her, and she took it with both hands.

“They announced a blizzard this morning, and I was afraid you might get stuck, Mr. Atchley,” she called out as if I was still twenty feet away.

“Please, call me Noah.”

The main door opened behind her, and a lanky man with stooped shoulders appeared, smiling at me as well. Between his legs peeked a Labrador with shiny golden hair that had turned white around the edges.

“How was your ride?” Mrs. McCormac asked as she showed me the way to her porch.

“Long, but thankfully uneventful.”

“Good. Then come in. Let us show you around quickly. We want to get going before it snows again.” She ushered me inside.

As I walked up the steps, the Lab stuck her nose further out between Mr. McCormac’s legs. Her tail wagged, clearly wanting to say hello to who would be her partner in crime for the next few days, but she didn’t leap forward.

“This is Maggie,” Mr. McCormac said as he greeted me.

“Pleasure to meet you, sir,” I replied, but I couldn’t take my eyes off Maggie.

She pushed her nose closer and closer to me, her paws scratching the floor.

“She’s always excited to meet new people,” Mr. McCormac chuckled, carefully stepping back so I wouldn’t have to greet the dog by reaching through his legs.

I squatted down and held my hand up to her nose. She sniffed at it, then pushed her head under my palm for a pat. Her soft fur lifted my spirits tenfold.

One reason I wanted to be a veterinarian until four months ago was that I grew up with dogs, and it was hard for me to contain myself when I saw one. It was a shock to me when my parents decided not to adopt any more dogs when I went to college. They said they wanted to travel, which made no sense because you can travel with a dog as well. The hardest part for me, as I finished my internship and waited for my lease to end in an almost unfurnished apartment, was not having a dog to pet for four months. So, it was a welcome surprise that Maggie was also eager to meet me.

“Looks like we’re going to get along,” I said.

“She’s very easy to please,” Mr. McCormac laughed, leaning close to me with a cheeky expression and lowering his voice. “Unlike my wife.”

“I heard that,” Mrs. McCormac yelled from behind him.

“It was only a joke, my dear.” He ran to her as fast as a man his age could and kissed her on the cheek. “You know I love you.”

The blush on Mrs. McCormac’s face that followed made it clear that she wasn’t one to hold a grudge over a poor joke.

We spent the next fifteen minutes taking a quick tour of the house.

It was much more modern than the outside would’ve suggested. Just behind the main door was a white leather couch facing a wooden sideboard with a large television on top. To the left was a Christmas tree as tall as the room, strung with lights, and to the right was a modern fireplace that could be reached from both the kitchen and the living room. The wooden kitchen in the back harbored a dining table for four people and hid a pantry that you had to walk through to get to the mudroom and the backyard. Under the stairs was the guest bathroom. Mr. McCormac took me upstairs. To the left was the main bedroom, and to the right was a small guest room where I was to stay.

They showed me where they kept Maggie’s ear drops and dog food (in the kitchen, under the sink, behind the only childproof door in the house) and explained that Maggie would try to get into the cabinet every chance she got but that she was fine with being left alone for a few hours if I wanted to explore town or buy food.

Mr. McCormac showed me the key box by their front door, next to a bulletin board filled with business cards and photos. They hung over a shoe closet that also housed a landline phone. He tried to find the key they wanted to give me, but then he couldn’t remember which one was the right one. So Mrs. McCormac shoved her key chain into my hands and rushed out the door because they ‘really had to go now. The plane wasn’t waiting.’

I wished them a good time in Aruba and waved as they got into their car. It felt weird, but something told me it would have been weirder if I hadn’t waved at them.

Maggie's eyes followed the car as it drove away, and when it was out of sight, she pressed her head into my leg. I patted her. “We’re going to have a good time, Maggie. I promise. I will take good care of you for the next nine days.”

I wandered through the house for a minute and let out a deep, relaxing sigh. Finally, my vacation could begin. I walked back outside, pulled my car into the driveway, and brought my backpack and duffel bag inside, all under the watchful eyes of Maggie, who had decided not to leave my side as if I needed her help (except when I walked to the car because the snow wasn’t to her liking). After taking my things upstairs, I let myself fall onto the couch. I hadn't sat down for ten seconds when my stomach rumbled. Maggie barked as if she knew the sound and ran into the kitchen, wagging her tail as she stared at the cabinet under the sink.

“You’re not supposed to eat for another two hours,” I said, following her. “Do you want to get fat? Believe me, the boys don’t like it when you get too chubby.”

She bellowed as if she thought that was stupid—or as if that kind of thinking was something I needed to work on.

“Yeah, I hear you. But you still have to wait a little.”

However, I didn't have to. My last meal had been six hours ago and only consisted of a microwaved gas station burrito. I opened the fridge, and my dog-sitting experience from college led me to expect it to be stocked. Boy, was I wrong—nothing but a few condiments and homemade pickles.

“Guess I’ll have to wait, too, after all.” I sighed.

Maggie barked as if she understood the sentiment.

I crouched down and patted her fluffy head. “Can you hold down the fort for thirty minutes without me? Uncle Noah has to go to the store.”

She barked again and plodded over to her bed, which was neatly placed near the kitchen fireplace, letting me know it wouldn’t be a problem.

The black building was embedded in the mountain as if it only pretended to be a grocery store but actually concealed a secret underground tunnel leading deep into the Appalachian Mountains. The parking lot had room for about thirty cars, and half of the spaces were occupied. It was the most crowded place I had seen in Seastone so far, although it was still only a fraction of the people I was used to in the South. But at least it felt a little less sketchy. I parked in the first available spot right next to the street, and it was only when I got out of my car that I realized I had seen the light blue pickup truck next to me before.

A minute later, my suspicion was confirmed. Right behind the door in the produce section, I found Jack comparing two nets of tangerines.

When he noticed me, his smile grew bigger than it had been an hour ago. “I didn’t expect to see you again so soon.”

“Well, if it isn’t the Home Service Expert,” I said, tightening my grip on the black shopping basket I had picked up in the front.

“Home Ser-vic-esss , with an s . I can help with many things around the house.”

He had no idea what kind of thoughts his explanation was causing in my head, and I had no intention of telling him. But that didn’t stop me from letting my eyes wander from the fruits and vegetables to the lower half of his body, just to fire up my imagination a little more.

“Admit it. You followed me here,” he laughed, putting the net in his right hand into his overflowing cart and the other one back on the display. “I’m just kidding.” He turned around and pushed his cart another foot, giving me a better view of his ass. His jeans fit it so perfectly that it left little to the imagination. He walked past the potato rack and loaded four ten-pound sacks onto the bottom half of his cart.

“You must have a large and hungry family,” I noted. The sheer amount of food he was about to buy would last for months, even if he had four children.

“That’s a nice way of putting it,” he replied, and for the first time, I thought it would have been helpful if he’d explained more. But since he hadn’t pressed me to talk about why I was in Seastone earlier, I figured it wasn’t my place to question him any further now.

If only I could recall what he looked like in college. It was a miracle to me that he still remembered who I was, considering it had been five years.

I walked over to the pile of bananas in the middle of the aisle. Most of them were either super green or had dark spots around the edges. My eyes kept wandering to Jack as he went through the shopping list he had whipped out of his jacket. His brown eyes were mesmerizing. His dark hair flowed seamlessly into his beard. The beard! A face flashed through my mind. The same eyes and smile. The same protruding ears, only shorter hair, but no beard .

That’s why I didn’t recognize him.

All the memories came flooding back—the group project, hanging out with others before class, and a few lunches together in the cafeteria. I remembered noticing him my freshman year, but it wasn’t until we were seniors that we started talking. And only because we accidentally sat next to each other on the first day of classes after the summer break. He wanted to be a veterinarian as much as I did. His eyes would light up when someone showed pictures of their family pets. He listened attentively to the lectures but didn’t take many notes, which led to me lending him mine. I thought he was cute, but I did nothing about it because we were only a few months away from graduation. I had already been through two failed relationships because I was so involved in my studies that my boyfriends got tired of me rarely having time to meet and mostly talking about animals. So Jack and I never met, just the two of us. We never talked about anything outside of class. I remember searching for his face after our midterms, but now that I see him like this, I have an idea why I never saw him again.

But talk about a glow-up.

I grabbed a single banana and put it in my basket.

“I know it’s not my place,” Jack said, scrutinizing the banana as if you needed special permission to buy them in Seastone. “But I recommend a bigger haul today. The perceptions of the blizzard are getting darker by the hour. Tomorrow, everyone will be here because chances are high that we will be snowed in for Christmas.”

My eyes ping-ponged between him, the bananas, and my basket.

He waved his hands defensively. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to tell you what to do.”

If what he said was true, it probably wasn’t the worst idea. And if not, buying enough food for a few days would mean fewer trips here, which was just as good.

“You’re probably right,” I replied, grabbing a bunch of the green bananas.

Jack laughed nervously. “Well, I’ll leave you to it then.” He held up his grocery list. “I still have a lot of work to do.”

“Yeah, me too.”

He pushed his cart past me. “Good to see you again. The offer to hang out still stands.” He gifted me another smile. “If we’re not snowed in, that is.”

Without waiting for an answer, he waved at me and strode off. I stared after him, catching one last glimpse of his yellow jacket and, who was I kidding, his ass.

Maybe hanging out with him wasn’t the worst idea. It was refreshing that he offered but didn’t pressure me to make any plans right away. Maybe he would be the one to understand why I couldn’t keep working as a vet, even with the degree in my pocket.

I shook off that thought as more people flooded the aisles behind me. I had to finish this first. There was enough time to go through all the things I could imagine doing with Jack once I was out of here.

Fifteen minutes later, I had grabbed more stuff than I could fit in the basket—just in case. My haul included general stuff that could be used for a variety of meals (like pasta, bell peppers, onions, a butternut pumpkin, eggs, potatoes, and tomatoes), toast, cheese, bananas, the net of tangerines Jack had decided against (because it was the last one), a premade sandwich for dinner, and a bunch of chocolate and cookies. If I was going to be dog-sitting on Christmas Eve, I might as well have some sweets. On my way to the cash register, I also found some dog biscuits that might come in handy if Maggie was as stubborn about letting me give her the ear drops as Mr. McCormac had told me.

When I got back to my car, Jack’s truck was gone. I threw the groceries in the trunk and hurried to my seat. In the twenty minutes I was away, the car had already cooled down to the outside temperature. I started the engine to get the heat going and rubbed my palms together.

“I need some warmth in my life, don’t I?” I asked as if someone was there to answer that question. I took a deep breath. “I should call Jack or text him. It’s not like I have anything to lose,” I tried to encourage myself. It might be a stupid idea, sure—especially since I wasn’t interested in meeting him just because we knew each other from a distant past—but nothing in my life would change for the better if I locked myself away.

My eyes darted around. Where had I put his card? My hands reached into my jacket pockets, but it wasn’t there. I leaned over the center console and opened the glove box. His card had to be here somewhere. I searched the storage space in the center console, my pockets again, and even under the seats.

This had to be a joke.

Was this really how it was supposed to go? To be teased by the universe to grab a straw, and as soon as I decided to do so, the opportunity was gone?

I searched my car for another ten minutes, but it was no use. His card was gone.