Free Chapter Sample
Chapter 1
Come closer, little heart,
Stand where the light won’t start.
The music was too loud. Emma didn’t know what the song was, only that it thudded through the SUV in thick bass pulses that made her ribs vibrate. Scott had the volume up past reasonable—past safe, past considerate and Becky kept drumming her fingers against the dashboard like she was conducting the entire interstate.
“Road trip!” Becky shouted over her shoulder, her hair catching sunlight through the windshield, blonde strands flashing gold. “Spring break, baby!”
Clearly, she was unbothered by the chaos happening in the backseat—the same chaos Emma was unfortunately stuck beside.
Chad whooped, thrusting upward inside of Sarah, his blue eyes squeezed shut in the sensation he was experiencing. His short-cropped blonde hair pressed hard against the backseat. Sarah squealed in response, her brown hair whipping wildly. The SUV lurched slightly as Scott noticed what was going on behind him with the other three in their party. He laughed and adjusted his grip on the steering wheel, strong black hands steady despite the distraction.
Emma pressed her temple to the cool glass of the window, her gray eyes unfocused as the blur of trees rushed past. She wanted no part of the shenanigans unfolding inches away from her. Her pale, petite frame curled inward, shoulders drawing tight as if she could somehow make herself smaller—less present—less there. She sent up a silent prayer that they would finish quickly, because things were already uncomfortable and increasingly unbearable.
The noise barely registered. The movement didn’t either. It was how easy it all felt—like no one even noticed. Sarah’s laughter, breathless and careless, like nothing else in the world existed beyond the moment she was indulging in. Emma’s stomach turned. She didn’t understand it—didn’t understand why Sarah had even invited her on this trip if this was what it was going to be. If this was who she was going to be around.
The SUV jolted.
“Yo—watch it,” Phil muttered, jerking back. Ice clattered somewhere near the floor. “That’s my drink—damn.”
Emma’s eyes flicked down—just for a second—grateful for the interruption. It didn’t last. She let the noise fold in on itself behind her, shapeless and distant, like something happening in another room.
Outside, the world was widening. The highway had thinned into two lanes. Billboards gave way to trees. Gas stations grew sparse. The air beyond the glass looked different somehow clearer, greener. Pines rose in tall ranks along the road, their shadows striping the asphalt.
The Catskills.
She still wasn’t entirely sure what that meant. Mountains, apparently. Or hills pretending to be mountains. Either way, there were more trees than people now.
Inside the vehicle, it felt like the opposite.
Becky twisted in her seat. “Em! You’re being weirdly quiet.”
“I’m fine,” Emma said automatically, keeping her gray eyes glued to the window.
She wasn’t.
Sarah was half-dressed in Chad’s lap, knees hooked over his thigh, making no effort to be discreet. Chad’s hand rested possessively at her hip. Phil leaned in from the middle seat, fondling her perky pink nipples while saying something crude Emma couldn’t quite hear over the music, but judging from Sarah’s reaction, she didn’t mind.
In fact, Sarah leaned closer, grabbing Emma’s hand and trying to pull her into Phil’s lap. Emma snatched her hand away in disgust, the motion sharp enough that her knuckles clipped the back of Scott’s headrest. Emma shifted farther toward the door, shoulders curling inward. The seatbelt pressed across her chest like a restraining arm. The air smelled like fast food wrappers and too much cologne.
Scott’s warm brown eyes flicked to her in the rearview mirror—just for a second.
“You good back there?”
She nodded.
He didn’t press.
“She’s fine,” Chad cut in. “Just drive, man. That’s what you’re here for, right?”
Scott’s mouth twisted in agitation, as his attention returned to the road.
Outside, the land lifted slowly. The road began to curve. Trees thickened. The sky narrowed into strips between branches. Sunlight flickered through leaves in bright, stuttering flashes. It was beautiful. It was also too far from anything. Emma realized, distantly, that she hadn’t seen a single bird since they left the highway. No shapes cutting across the sky. No movement between branches. The music swallowed the thought before it could settle.
“Cabin’s lakeside,” Becky said. “Private dock. Firepit. Zero neighbors.”
“Zero cops,” Chad added snidely in Scott’s direction.
Scott snorted. “Behave.”
Sarah laughed again breathless, high, almost desperate. “It’s going to be perfect.”
Emma watched the forest swallow another stretch of road. Perfect. The word felt slippery, sliding through her mind without settling anywhere. The music pounded again thump, thump, thump—like a pulse that didn’t belong to her. She wasn’t sure when the houses had disappeared entirely. She only noticed when there weren’t any anymore.
The trees stood closer now. Watching. Emma straightened in her seat and told herself she was being dramatic. It was just a trip. Just a cabin. Just spring break. And everyone else was having the time of their lives. The road narrowed again before the cabin appeared.
Scott slowed as the GPS announced, in an overly cheerful tone, “You have arrived.”
“There?” Phil leaned forward between the seats, his overgrown sandy-brown hair brushing the tops of his ears. “That’s it? ”
A gravel driveway curved off the road, half-hidden by trees. The SUV turned in, tires crunching over stone. Pebbles snapped beneath rubber. Branches brushed lightly along the sides with soft skrrr-ssh sounds.
The cabin emerged from the trees—a weathered structure of dark wood siding and towering windows that reflected almost nothing back. The lake shimmered beyond it silver-blue and quiet. The trees stretched tall and green, thick with early spring growth.
Emma tilted her head, listening. There should have been something. Birds. Wind. Anything. Instead, the quiet sat flat and complete, like a held breath.
“God, it’s peaceful out here,” Becky said.
Emma nodded. It was. Sarah clapped. Chad let out a low whistle. Emma stepped toward the treeline then back towards the group. The air was cooler than she expected. Cleaner. It smelled like pine sap and damp earth. Somewhere far off, a bird gave a single sharp call. It didn’t come again. No insects buzzed. No leaves stirred beyond the wind.
Scott popped the trunk. “Alright. Unpack fast. I call first shower.”
They moved toward the front door in a loose cluster, laughing, nudging each other with shoulders and bags.
Inside, the cabin smelled of pine, dust, and cold lake air. The floors were wide-planked and slightly uneven. The walls were paneled in dark-stained pine. A massive stone fireplace dominated the living room. Above it, mounted deer heads stared outward with glass eyes, antlers branching toward the ceiling.
Phil stopped short, his hazel eyes warm and alert. “Whoa. That’s… a lot of deer.”
Chad grinned. “It’s called culture. Relax. It’s a cabin. Not a crime scene.”
“It’s called murder décor,” Emma muttered. No one heard her.
Phil clapped his hands once, unintentionally drowning Emma out. “Alright, cool, cool—if anything comes back to life, Chad’s first. That’s the rule.”
The living room opened into a kitchen with open shelving and iron fixtures. A long hallway stretched toward the back of the cabin.
“This is literally the best decision we’ve ever made. Okay,” Becky announced, already moving. “Room dibs.”
They split down the hall.
First door: bedroom. Simple. Queen bed. Dresser. Window facing a thick cluster of trees.
Second door: another bedroom.
Third: a smaller bedroom.
“That’s three,” Scott said.
“Listing said three,” Sarah confirmed, scrolling through her phone. Her brow furrowed as she flicked back and forth between images. “I booked it myself. Three bedrooms, one bath, lakefront. That’s what it said.”
Phil reached the end of the hall and turned the knob on one more door. It opened. Another bed. Larger than the others. Dark wood frame, instead of metallic, like the others. Heavy quilt folded at the foot.
Chad leaned into the doorway. “Bonus.”
Scott frowned slightly. “That wasn’t in the pictures.”
“I’m telling you, it wasn’t listed,” Sarah said, a little sharper now, stepping closer to look past them. “I would’ve seen it. I went through everything before I booked.”
Becky stepped past Scott, already scanning the room. “It’s fine. Maybe they renovated.”
Emma lingered at the threshold. The room carried the faint impression of recent presence. A massive bed with a heavy dark wood frame occupied most of the space, flanked by a small stand and a lamp. Yet, something felt wrong. Along the headboard, a strange, velvet-green mossy pattern bloomed deep within the wood grain. To anyone else, it looked like a rustic design choice or a simple water stain from the damp forest air. But to Emma, the growth looked remarkably fresh—almost alive.
“That’s weird,” Phil said lightly. “It’s like they forgot to finish it.”
Chad shrugged. “Free upgrade.”
Becky dropped her bag onto the quilt. “Claimed.”
Scott followed her in without hesitation. “Works for me.”
Sarah straightened, folding her arms. “Okay, well—hold on. We should probably figure out rooms before everyone just starts claiming things.”
“Pretty sure Becky just did,” Chad said.
“And I booked it,” Sarah shot back, not loud, but a bit petty and childish.
That paused them.
Scott glanced between the two of them, then back at the bed. “It’s the biggest room,” he said. “Makes sense.”
Becky gave Sarah a quick, placating smile. “You good with that?”
Sarah hesitated just a second too long, then exhaled. “Yeah. Fine. Whatever.”
Chad clapped once. “Alright, then Phil and I will take one.”
“Obviously,” Phil said. “I’m not sharing a bed with you, though.”
“You wish,” Chad shot back.
“That leaves…” Scott glanced down the hall.
“The next biggest is mine,” Sarah said quickly, reclaiming some ground, already stepping away from the doorway. “Since I booked it.”
No one argued.
Emma spoke up quietly from the threshold. “I’ll take the small one.”
Sarah glanced back. “You sure?”
Emma nodded. “Yeah. It’s fine.”
She didn’t elaborate.
Didn’t need to.
The moment passed. Emma watched Scott sit on the edge of the bed. It creaked softly beneath his weight. She expected the mattress to dip deeper. Odd. It didn’t. Just a shallow give. Then stillness.
A faint prickle ran along the back of her neck. She rubbed it away. Just wood settling. Just an old cabin. She told herself that twice. Then she chose the smallest room at the end of the hall.
She didn’t unpack right away. The walls felt too close, the quiet too complete. Laughter drifted faintly from down the hall—Chad, loud and careless, Phil not far behind him. Sarah’s voice threaded through it, bright and unbothered.
Emma stepped back out before she could think too much about it. The porch stretched wide across the front of the cabin, shaded and cool. Two wooden rocking chairs sat side by side, facing the trees and the long slope toward the lake. Emma lowered herself into one. It rocked back easily beneath her weight.
Silent.
No creak. No groan of old wood. Just smooth motion, as if the chair had been worn into perfect balance. She let it carry her once, twice, then stilled it with the toe of her shoe. The quiet out here was different. She drew in a slow breath, the scent of pine and damp earth settling into her lungs, and tried to let her shoulders drop.
The door opened behind her.
“Okay, so you are alive.”
Emma glanced back. Becky stepped out onto the porch, sunlight catching in her hair, soft gold against the dark wood. She crossed over without waiting for an invitation and dropped into the second chair beside her. That one rocked too. Just as quietly.
“No dramatic fainting spell?” Becky added.
Emma huffed a small breath that almost passed for a laugh. “Disappointed?”
“A little,” Becky said, grinning. Then her expression softened. “You’ve been quiet.”
Emma looked back out at the trees. “I’m fine.”
“Mm.” Becky tipped her head, not buying it. “You’re fine like when you used to say you were fine before a math test you definitely didn’t study for.”
“That was different.” Emma huffed.
“Was it?” Becky challenged.
Emma didn’t answer. For a moment, they just sat there, the chairs shifting gently beneath them, the forest stretching out in front of them like something waiting to be understood.
Becky nudged her lightly with her elbow. “Is it Sarah?”
Emma’s jaw tightened just slightly. Becky caught it. Of course she did.
“I mean,” Becky went on, softer now, “I know she’s been… a lot.”
“That’s one way to put it,” Emma muttered.
Becky winced. “Yeah. Okay. Fair.”
Emma exhaled slowly, her pale, slender fingers curling against the arm of the chair. “I just don’t get it,” she said. “Why invite me if… that’s what this is going to be?”
Emma didn’t look at Becky when she said it, tossing a strand of her jet-black hair over her shoulder.
“Like I’m just… supposed to sit there while she—” Emma stopped, shaking her head once. “It’s not even about me being uncomfortable. It’s just…”
“Disrespectful,” Becky finished gently.
Emma nodded.
“Yeah,” Becky said. “It is.”
They sat with that for a second.
Then Becky leaned back in her chair, letting it rock once, twice—still silent. “She’s trying too hard,” she said after a moment.
Emma glanced at her.
“To impress Scott,” Becky added, quieter now. “Which is… honestly kind of sad, if you think about it.”
Emma’s expression flickered. “That’s not how it comes off.”
“No, I know,” Becky said. “It comes off exactly how you’re experiencing it.”
That earned her a faint, reluctant smile.
“But,” Becky continued, bumping her shoulder lightly again, “that doesn’t mean the whole trip has to be ruined.”
Emma raised an eyebrow.
Becky’s grin returned, a little brighter this time. “You remember your grandpa’s place?”
“Pawpaw,” Emma corrected automatically.
“Pawpaw,” Becky echoed. “The one with the woods? You used to come back with, like, leaves and berries and random sticks like you were building a potion kit.”
Emma huffed. “It wasn’t random. He taught me what to look for.”
“I know,” Becky said. “That’s my point.”
She leaned forward slightly, resting her elbows on her knees. “We’ve got a whole forest out there. Real one. Not, like, city park fake nature.”
Emma followed her gaze out toward the trees.
“There’s got to be something out there,” Becky went on. “Wild herbs, mushrooms, whatever you used to go hunting for.”
Emma hesitated. “I don’t know,” she said. “It’s not the same. Different region. Different growth patterns.”
“Okay, Professor Forest,” Becky said, smiling. “Then you get to teach me.”
Emma blinked at her.
“What?” Becky shrugged. “We ditch the chaos crew for a bit. Go foraging. You show me how not to accidentally poison myself. We make it our thing.”
The idea settled slowly. This may be precisely what she needed. It wasn’t loud. It wasn’t overwhelming , just a nice relaxing stroll through nature. Emma’s shoulders loosened just a fraction.
“…You’d actually want to do that?” she asked.
“Absolutely,” Becky said. “Way better than listening to Chad narrate his own personality for three days.”
That pulled a real laugh out of Emma this time—small, but genuine.
Becky smiled, satisfied.
“See?” she said. “Trip saved.”
Emma shook her head, but there was less weight behind it now.
They sat there a while longer, the two chairs moving in quiet, easy rhythm.
No creak.
No sound at all.
Just the soft shift of weight, and the forest stretching out ahead of them—still, patient, and listening.
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