Rose: So they ARE like your beard
Reed: Are you my prey?
Rose: I’m more of a voluntary participant
Rose: I think it’s time for me to see your mythical cabin
Reed: It’s far too shocking
Rose: Jovie likes it, and I trusther opinion
Reed: She likes peanut butter and marshmallow fluff sandwiches on sourdough bread
Reed: Her opinions are all over the place
Rose: I want to see where you live
Rose: You can teach me how to fish
Rose: I’ll even let you keep all the fish I catch
Reed: That’s enough flirting for today
26
reed
Nerves bangaround in my gut as if I’m driving Rose to the scene of a crime I committed. I don’t see any outcome where this goes well. But like with most things, I can’t deny Rose. I’d give her the shirt off my back if she asked.
I should not imagine Rose wearing my clothes when we’re on the way to my cabin.
“This is deeper in the woods than I imagined it to be.” She gazes out the window, taking in the old-growth forest we’re driving through. My cabin’s only about fifteen minutes outside of Sunshine, but it doesn’t take long for the trees to swallow us up.
“There are other houses tucked away out here. You just can’t see many of them.” We passed a new development a few miles back, but now the homes are more spread out. More luxury houses are being built out here all the time, but you can still find basic fishing shacks, too.
Like mine.
I turn down my access road, white-knuckling the steering wheel. This is fine. Just bringing the woman of my dreams to the place I created when I promised myself I wouldn’t dream anymore. She doesn’t have to like it.
I still want her to.
I round the last bend. My cabin sits in a small clearing, sheltered by the surrounding trees. Rose gasps, but I can’t decipher its meaning. “What a cute little cabin” feels like a stretch. “This is the start of a slasher movie” is just as likely.
The gravel road dissipates into a small lot, and I park close to the cabin. I’m about to tell her we can turn around and leave now that she’s seen it, but she’s left the Bronco before I get that far.
I climb out and join her in front, where she’s appraising it with wide eyes. The wood exterior is stained a warm pine to blend in with the forest around us. I extended the steeply sloped roof to give it a tiny covered porch, but beyond that, there’s not much to see. Rose would probably put potted plants all along the edge of the porch to brighten it up. Something with a long bloom time for maximum color.
I shake my head before those thoughts can take hold. She’s only here to look at the place. She’s not here to move in.
“It’s pretty basic.” About the best I can say.
“Definitely rustic.” She doesn’t lace that with judgment, just stating facts. “So, it started out as a…”
I clear my throat, kicking myself for ever bringing her here. Maybe for not building myself a nicer house in the first place. “Storage shed. Yeah.”
She gives nothing away when she turns to me. “Can I see inside?”
“Sure.” Might as well hammer that nail into the coffin. I unlock the door and step over the threshold, the scent of the pine tongue-and-groove wall paneling almost suffocating from being shut up in the heat. In the mudroom, my waders and fishing poles take up one end of the small space, boots and jackets on the other.