21

Carrie

The world blurred outside my window as we sped down the unfamiliar highway, leaving Orca Bay—and everything I had once called home—far behind. I pressed my forehead against the cool glass, watching as pine trees and lonely gas stations flickered past like ghosts of a life I was no longer part of. The morning light was silver and sharp, and though I should have been exhausted, I felt strangely awake, every nerve tingling with a kind of fierce clarity I’d never known before.

Nathan sat beside me, his hands gripping the wheel with quiet focus. His jaw was tight, his eyes hard and locked on the road ahead, and something about the way he moved—the tense precision of a man who’d lived through too many close calls—made me feel both safe and achingly exposed.

We hadn’t spoken much since we left. There was nothing to say. Too much had already been said and unsaid, and the weight of everything that had happened—the kisses, the fights, the nights tangled up in each other—sat between us like an invisible thread pulling taut.

I ran my fingers through my hair, messy from sleep and nerves, and finally broke the silence. “Where are we going, Nathan?” My voice was soft, but it sounded too loud in the quiet cocoon of the car.

He didn’t look at me, but his fingers flexed on the wheel. “A place I know. Off the grid. We’ll be safe there until we figure out our next move.”

His answer didn’t really answer anything, but I nodded anyway. Maybe it didn’t matter where we were going—as long as we were together, as long as I wasn’t alone to face the rising tide of fear inside me.

I turned back to the window, but my mind wasn’t on the road anymore. I kept thinking about Leonard, about the tabloids, about the way my life had spiraled out of control so fast I could barely catch my breath. But more than that, I thought about Daniel—the ex-boyfriend whose name still tasted bitter in my mouth—and the shadows he had dragged into my world. I had run to Orca Bay hoping to disappear, hoping that by hiding away in a sleepy town, I could pretend none of it had ever happened. But trouble had followed me like a curse, and now, no matter how fast we drove, it was catching up.

I glanced at Nathan again, studying the hard lines of his profile. He looked carved from stone, every inch of him rigid and unyielding. But I had seen behind that wall. I had felt the way he trembled when he held me, the way his breath hitched when we kissed, the way his eyes darkened with something that felt a lot like love, even if he wouldn’t admit it.

“Do you regret it?” I asked suddenly, surprising even myself.

His brow furrowed, and he finally tore his eyes away from the road for a split second to glance at me. “Regret what?”

“Us. Everything that’s happened between us.”

He didn’t answer right away. The silence stretched thin, heavy with all the things we couldn’t bring ourselves to say.

Finally, he exhaled, his jaw flexing. “No,” he said quietly. “I don’t regret it. But I do regret that I couldn’t keep you safe from all this.”

My heart twisted. I wanted to tell him that wasn’t his fault, that none of this was his fault. But before I could find the words, he pointed ahead.

“There,” he said, nodding toward a narrow gravel road that veered off the highway and disappeared into the trees. He turned the wheel, and we bumped along the path, the car jostling over roots and rocks until we reached a clearing with a small, weathered cabin nestled in the woods.

“This is it,” he said, cutting the engine.

We climbed out, and the silence of the forest closed around us, thick and almost oppressive. The cabin looked like something out of a movie—old but sturdy, with moss creeping up the sides and a porch swing that creaked in the wind.

Nathan grabbed our bags and led the way inside. The cabin was simple but cozy—a stone fireplace, a worn couch, a small kitchen with mismatched dishes. It smelled like cedar and old books, and despite everything, I felt a strange wave of peace wash over me.

“This place is… perfect,” I said softly.

Nathan set the bags down and gave me a small smile. “It’ll do.”

For a moment, we just stood there, staring at each other, the tension between us buzzing like static. I wanted to throw my arms around him, to let the fear and exhaustion melt away in his embrace. But before I could move, a noise outside made us both freeze.

Nathan’s eyes narrowed, and in a flash, he had his gun out, finger on the trigger. He motioned for me to stay back as he crept toward the window, peering out into the trees.

I held my breath, every muscle locked in terror.

“Nathan?” I whispered.

He didn’t answer, his body coiled tight like a spring.

And then—

A figure stepped out of the shadows.

Nathan’s whole body stiffened as he raised the gun higher, his voice low and sharp like a blade cutting through the quiet. “Who’s there? Show yourself!”

The figure stepped closer, just enough for me to see a flash of something metallic—a camera, I realized with a jolt, my stomach twisting. It was a man, thin and wiry, dressed in black with a press badge hanging from his neck. His face was half-covered by a cap, but I could see the gleam of recognition in his eyes when he spotted me through the window.

“Carrie Smith!” he shouted, stepping boldly onto the porch, camera raised. “Care to comment on your sudden disappearance? The tabloids are going crazy—everyone wants to know if you and your ‘bodyguard’ are running off together!”

Nathan was at the door in two strides, flinging it open with such force that the reporter actually stumbled back a step. “Get out of here,” Nathan growled, his voice deadly. “Now. Before I make you regret ever showing up.”

But the reporter, emboldened by the thrill of the chase, kept snapping photos, each click of the camera sounding like a gunshot in the stillness of the woods. “People have a right to know the truth! Is this a love nest? Are you hiding something?”

“Get out!” Nathan shouted, stepping forward threateningly. The man finally seemed to realize he was outmatched and backed away slowly, holding his hands up in mock surrender.

“Alright, alright,” he muttered. “But this story’s just getting started.” He turned and disappeared down the path, the sound of gravel crunching under his feet fading into the distance.

Nathan slammed the door shut and locked it, cursing under his breath. His eyes were wild when he turned to me. “Are you okay?” he asked, striding over to where I stood, still frozen by the window.

I nodded, though my heart was racing. “I’m fine. Just… shaken. Who was that? How did he even find us?”

Nathan raked a hand through his hair, pacing the room like a caged animal. “I don’t know. But if the press found us, it means someone else could too. We’re not safe here anymore.”

Panic bubbled up in my chest. “What do we do now?”

He stopped pacing and looked at me, his eyes softening for the briefest moment. “We stay alert. We keep moving if we have to. And no matter what happens, I’ll protect you, Carrie. I swear it.”

I nodded, swallowing hard. I believed him. But as I looked around the little cabin that had felt so safe just moments ago, I couldn’t shake the sinking feeling that our problems were far from over.