3. Ferris

THREE

FERRIS

The sun, or I should say light as there was little sun, faded early, and I adjusted the thermostat. Snowflakes fluttered past the windows, and I shivered as tiny ice crystals stuck to the windowpane and slid downward into a pile of slush.

I closed the thick curtains on the dusk that was creeping toward the house and studied the fireplace. Certain that it couldn’t be that hard to get a fire going—Charlie had always built campfires at the beach, and I’d toasted the marshmallows—I read and reread Hugo’s list.

There was a stack of firewood beside the fireplace, and Hugo had mentioned there was more in the shed outside. I chewed the inside of my cheek as I wondered whether I should bring in more wood now before it got dark and even colder but decided to get the fire started before I raced outside.

After crumpling up newspaper in the fireplace, I placed small sticks I was using as kindling on top. I lit the paper and waited until the kindling caught alight and added a log. I sat back on my heels, proud I’d managed a task many people completed every day without giving it any thought.

The wind picked up, swirling around the house, and I glanced at the one window with the curtains still open, convinced the wind was peeking in at me. Damn, Charlie and his talk of fairy tales had me convinced a bear or a woodcutter was about to knock on my door.

But thinking back to Hugo’s woodcutter impression, I almost wished he would charge in, saying he’d forgotten something. Charlie had texted saying he really liked the guy and did he have a husband, boyfriend, partner, or significant other?

How am I supposed to know? was my terse message. I’d added exclamation marks but deleted them before hitting send. My chest ached, not because of clogged arteries or heartburn, but with a flare up of jealousy which was every bit as painful as… well, how I imagined a heart attack would be.

What if Hugo was single and he and Charlie fell in love? Gods dammit, no. I was tempted to get on a plane and fly home to tell Charlie not to speak to the guy again and to go on his surfing trip.

My friend’s text ruined my night, but the fire needed more wood, and I ummed and ahhed about whether I should go outside now. I’d have to put the fire out before going to bed, but it was only four P.M. A little early for bed.

Wrapping my dressing gown around me that Charlie had lent me, I turned on the outside lights and peered through the kitchen window at the shed, perched near the fence. It wasn’t far from the house and the path was illuminated, though it was covered in snow.

Hmmm. Okay, I’d better do it because there was only a tiny pinprick of light left in the sky. But as my hand grasped the door handle, I peered at the snow. Were those footprints leading from the shed to the side of the house?

I pulled back, wondering what animals lived in the woods behind the house. The home next door was in darkness, as Hugo explained the family had gone away for the holidays. And I couldn’t see Hector’s place from here.

Thinking back to Charlie’s wild imaginative ramblings, I was pretty sure bears hibernated in winter, so the pawprints, if that’s what they were, couldn’t be from a bear. A wolf? I couldn’t see from this angle, but if I snapped a pic I could go online and compare them.

I grabbed the phone and found the bear-scaring app. The animals were supposed to be terrified of loud noises, so as I debated should I or shouldn’t I? If it wasn’t a bear, would the animal be scared or go on the attack?

“Just go,” I said out loud and opened the door. Oh gods, it was cold, the wind whipping around me and under the robe. Damn, it’d freeze my bits if I didn’t get my ass in gear.

My trembling fingers hovered over the app as I raced to the shed, but not being used to wintry conditions, I slid on the icy path and landed on my ass.

“Owww.” My screech would have scared away a wild animal, but as I heaved myself up, wet and bruised, a shadow flitted around the side of the house. Oh shit. Man or beast? And did it matter because neither were supposed to be in the backyard?

Fuck, I tried to stand but had forgotten to wear my boots and just wore my slippers and they were saturated. That was a dumb move. I fumbled in the snow for my phone, and when I picked it up, I dropped it again, the cold metal searing my skin as I grabbed it a second time.

Forgetting the damned wood, I tried to run, but it was more of a limp, trudge, limp, trudge. It was only ten yards to the back door, but the distance stretched ahead like ten miles. My head hurt, tears crystallized on my cheeks, my ankle screamed in pain, and something loomed out of the shadows.

I shrieked again, but I must have dropped the phone. It was no longer in my hand. The darkness closed in, and I toppled forward.

Everything was dark, but there was a blast of warmth on my face and body. A constant flickering to my left suggested burning wood and I jerked up, my eyes searching the space, terrified the flames had escaped the fireplace.

But I was in Hugo’s living room and the fire was burning fiercely right where it was supposed to be. There was a delicious aroma coming from the kitchen. In those fairy stories I used to read, the woodcutter often saved the day, so maybe there was a good Samaritan making me dinner. Or was the woodcutter a bad guy? I couldn’t recall as I sat up and grimaced at the pain in my ankle.

How I wished Hugo had decided a beach vacation wasn’t for him and he’d returned, though that would be a little weird.

“You’re awake.”

Not Hugo but Hector. I hid my disappointment with a smile, hoping he didn’t pick up that I wasn’t happy to see him .

“What happened?”

“You slipped and fell, and I was nearby and rescued you.”

“Thank you.”

He placed a tray, containing soup and toast, over my lap while I tried to fathom why he was nearby when it was freezing outside. Surely, he couldn’t have been going for a stroll in this weather, but I said nothing, thankful he’d helped me.

“You shouldn’t be alone tonight because of that bump on your head.” He told me he’d sleep on the couch. I protested, but he insisted.

“Your phone survived.” He handed it to me. There were texts from Charlie who said he was worried he couldn’t get hold of Hugo and wanted to invite him to dinner. Jealousy reared up again. What was wrong with me? I’d hurt my ankle and my head, and I was peeved my friend was being kind to the man I lusted after.

“Have you been in contact with Hugo?” Hector was in the kitchen, and something metal clattered to the floor. “My friend can’t get hold of him.”

I secretly wished Hugo had returned, complaining the beach was too hot and sand got in all his nooks and crannies.

“Can’t say I have.” His voice had that weird sing-song quality that people sometimes had when they were fibbing.

But it wasn’t just his tone that gave him away. There was a scent that wafted around me, and I sniffed my dressing gown. Yikes, this wasn’t Charlie’s. His had red checks and this was green. I’d only been wearing boxers underneath when I went outside, and I couldn’t peek if I still was because of the tray.

But whatever I was wearing reeked of Hugo’s scent. I sniffed it again and my cock engorged. He wasn’t here, but had Hector put me in this because mine was sodden after I toppled headfirst into the snow? I pulled the lapel to my nose, inhaling the sweet fragrance. I wished I could bottle it.

“Why do you ask?” Hector walked in, a dishcloth over his shoulder.

I told him, and he shrugged. “He’s probably gone off on a hike or something.” He disappeared into the kitchen again.

“My friend is enchanted with Hugo and wants to know if he’s in a relationship.”

There was silence, and I counted the seconds before Hector replied, and when he did, he spoke slowly. “I don’t believe he’s in a relationship, but he’s not looking for one either.”

Disappointment settled over me as I’d hoped he’d said he was looking for love. But what if he was and Charlie was in his path? I had to get out of here and go home. I loved Charlie like a brother, but I couldn’t see him with Hugo.

“I have to leave, Hector. Can you take me to the airport?”

He raced in. “What? Why? You can’t.”

Okay that was a little odd. “Why not?” I said slowly. “I’m not a prisoner here, am I?” Charlie may have been wrong about bears, and while there might not be a big bad wolf, I felt like I was a prisoner in a tower.

I had to get out of here. I texted Charlie. Send help .