Ignoring the static, I roll my eyes, faking annoyance as I reach for my shorts. Stepping into them, I purposely face him as I fasten the zipper. Two can play this game—whatever this game is. His attention drifts to my fingers, his Adam’s apple bobbing.

  A wave of desire threatens to drag me under. Nothing good can come from this, especially since he all but accused me of pushing his daughter in front of the car. Pulling back my shoulders is probably not the best idea, considering I’m only in a bra, but he’s seen it all anyway. “So are you going to answer my question?”

  “What question? I got distracted,” he quips, tonguing his cheek. No matter my comeback, he’s always ready to outsmart me.

  Deciding to embark on this war dressed, I slip on my tank and stand my ground. I pay no attention to the fact that my body is protesting, preferring to remain unclothed. “Why are you here? The last time I saw you, you made it clear you think I’m the devil reincarnate.” I cross my arms, my anger replacing my hormone-fueled episode.

  The playfulness subsides, and Cayden sighs, running his fingers through his snarled hair. “I’m sorry. I had no right to behave that way.” I’m listening. “I am just”—his pause has my interest piqued—“I’m just an overprotective parent. Ellie’s mom has floated in and out of our lives, so it’s only ever been Ellie and me.” He makes no attempts to mask his bitterness. “She is my number one priority in this world, and everything I do, every choice I make, I make for her.”

  A sinking feeling threatens to drag me under, but I quash it. It’s time I laid all my cards on the table because I am done riding this emotional merry-go-round. “I appreciate that and admire you for being a good parent, but ever since we met, I can’t help but feel like you have a problem with me.” I decide to leave out the fact that on rare occasions, he appears to want to eat me alive.

  I wait for him to deny my claims, but he doesn’t. He merely lowers his eyes.

  “I moved here because something about this town, this house”—I sweep my hand outward—“feels so familiar. It feels like home. These past six months, I’ve lived in constant darkness. I know that sounds melodramatic, but it’s the God’s honest truth. I don’t know who I am, who I was, and coming here was the first time since I woke to this nightmare that I felt…something.”

  His head snaps up, but I don’t know what it means. I don’t know what any of this means.

  “I’m sorry if me being here has somehow disturbed the peace, but I’m not leaving…not until I figure out what significance this place has. I know I’ve been here before…I just can’t remember. I can’t remember anything,” I confess, the fight in me dying as I rub my temple.

  “And what happens when you remember?” He finally speaks, but his tone is heavy with burden.

  “I think the better question is if I remember.” Shuffling my bare feet, I suddenly feel foolish for unloading all my personal shit on a mere stranger. But that’s the problem—just as this house, town, and lake all feel familiar, so does Cayden. I just don’t know why. “There’s no guarantee I’ll ever remember, but from what I can tell, giving up isn’t part of my vocabulary.”

  A flicker of a grin tugs at Cayden’s supple lips. However, it’s gone just as quickly as it appeared.

  “So I promise to keep out of your hair. You won’t even know I’m here.”

  When a low chuckle slips past Cayden’s lips, my olive branch gets completely shit on. “That’s not possible,” he explains. When I arch a brow, he continues. “Lacey likes you, and I’m glad she’s made a friend. She doesn’t have many. She works all the time, and when she’s not, she’s helping me with Ellie. I doubt she’ll let you go without a fight.”

  Is he making jokes now? The mystery continues…

  “Not to mention, my dog seems to adore you. So even if I wanted to ignore you, my nearest and dearest would probably make that impossible to do.”

  “So everyone seems to like me, bar you. And quite possibly your daughter.” I need to lighten the mood because I didn’t mean for that statement to come out so needy.

  Cayden saunters toward me, that smug smirk a permanent fixture. Everything I just said is laughable, considering the closer he gets to me, the calmer things become. Staying away from Cayden is akin to denying my lungs oxygen to breathe. And when he reaches out to gently brush a stray piece of hair from my cheek, I need all the O2 I can get. “I do like you…”

  Why does that comment please me?

  His finger lingers as he appears transfixed by our connection. I remain still, not daring to move an iota. He eventually drops his hand, and while I attempt to mask my disappointment, I have to remember to breathe. “And as for my daughter, she is grateful…we both are. And to express my gratitude, I’d like to help you.”

  Now I’ve heard it all. “Help me?” I can’t keep the suspicion from my tone.

  Cayden nods. “This house isn’t safe.” I open my mouth in protest, but he quickly puts an end to my ranting. “Don’t argue with me because it’s my job to make these calls.”

  Annoyed with his bossiness, I smugly reply, “So…what? You’re offering me a place to crash?”

  He has the gall to laugh. “We both know how that will end.” I don’t bother arguing this time. “Let me help you get this place up and running. It’s going to take a lot more than a fresh coat of paint.”

  “What’s in it for you?” I ask, pursing my lips in distrust. Why is he offering to spend more time with me when he’s been running in the opposite direction every chance he gets?

  “I get to sleep easy at night knowing my new neighbor isn’t buried under ten feet of roofing.” I burst into laughter.

  Cayden’s offer is tempting because he’s right. This house is a death trap. But I don’t know how that’ll work. The thought of seeing him so often spells disaster on so many levels. But we’re both adults, and he is offering, so I would be crazy not to accept.

  “Okay.”

  His brows knit together. “Okay?”

  A ghost of a smile tugs at my lips. “Yes.”

  He tilts his head to the side, clearly weighing whether I’m possessed. “You heard me, right? This means I’ll be over here. A lot.”

  “I know.”

  “And you’re okay with this?”

  “I just said that I was,” I counter, the banter a fun change. He appears satisfied with my response for now.

  The air is heavy with unspoken silence, and I wonder if he’s had a change of heart. Digging his hands into his pockets, he nods once. “All right then. I’ll see you tomorrow.” But he still doesn’t budge.

  I decide to take advantage of our civility because I don’t know when it’ll happen again. “So your daughter, Ellie…she’s okay?”

  Cayden exhales. “Yes. She is, thanks to you.” His statement touches me.

  There is no questioning his love for his daughter. I remember her bravery, holding back her tears when I asked if she was all right. No doubt she inherited her strength from her father. I’m still trying to decide what she inherited from her mother.

  “She’s a brave little girl.”

  He smiles, but there is something bittersweet about it.

  The stilted conversation is giving me heartburn because there is still something underlying between us. I just can’t pinpoint what. Taking a closer look at him, I wade through the quicksand in my mind and hope for something to emerge. Nothing does.

  The disappointment rises, but I quash it down because Cayden is someone you don’t forget. And besides, if he knew me, I’m sure he’d tell me.

  Cayden steps back hastily, clearing his throat. “Well, night.”

  “Good night,” I reply, unable to shake this sudden sinking feeling. When he turns to leave, my mouth has a mind of its own and spews out nonsense I have no control over. “Do you know who lived here?”

  I have no idea why I just asked him this. But more importantly, why does it matter?

  The silence bounces between us, and just when I think he’s not going to answer, he nods. His broad shoulders rise to the heavens, and if I didn’t know any better, I’d say I just hit a nerve. “I do.”

  I wait for him to elaborate. He doesn’t.

  I can’t sleep.

  After Cayden all but ran from my house in fear of me asking more questions, I’ve been left restless and wondering if he’s Jekyll and Hyde reincarnate. I’m constantly left with more questions when in his company, which just leaves me even more intrigued by him.

  If my day wasn’t bad enough, Stella decided to add to the shit pile and call me. The conversation was short, but she was clearly checking up on me. She asked if I’d gotten over whatever this phase was and if I was ready to come home.

  Her disregard for my feelings had me digging in my heels even more so, and I told her I wouldn’t be offended if she didn’t call me again.

  Left agitated, I made good on my word and scrubbed the kitchen until it was sparkling clean. I only stopped because I ran out of cleaning products. I was hoping to clean myself into exhaustion, but no such luck. Which is why I’m tying my laces and placing my earbuds in.

  Going for a run at two o’clock in the morning is surely the solution to force my body to switch off and give in to my fatigue. I select a rock song as I do some light stretching. Once I’m warmed up, I take off, hoping to sweat out this restlessness brewing within.

  I enjoy the stillness as it appears I’m the only one awake at this ungodly hour. The gentle glow from the streetlights illuminates the sidewalk, and I allow the peacefulness in. There is a sense of liberation when my feet hit the pavement. Letting go has never felt this good.

  Today has been a whirlwind, but I have a feeling this is just the beginning of things to come. With that as my motivation, I break into a faster pace, intent on running away from these demons constantly nipping at my heels.

  I’ve only been here two days, and things are already challenging me in ways I never imagined. But more accurately, someone. I never expected to meet someone like Cayden. I actually wouldn’t have imagined someone like him existed. Back in Myrtle Beach, I felt somewhat in control even though my life was frustrating. But now, everything is rampant.

  I have no control over my reaction toward him, and I don’t like it.

  I push myself harder, refusing to lay victim to these irrational thoughts. He is just a man, an annoying man at that, but I need to remind myself why I’m here. Cayden Coachman is a complication I don’t need. I have enough.

  Not focusing on where I’m running, I turn right and realize I’ve reached a dead-end street. There are trees and bushes a few yards away, which no doubt contains a trail leading to the other side of the lake. I could run it and discover what’s there, but the streetlights end abruptly, shrouding me in partial darkness.

  Coming to a stop, I examine the scenery in front of me, wondering what it looks like in the daytime. Because right now, it looks creepy as hell. The shadows appear menacing, and my imagination runs wild. Just as one song ends and there is a split second of silence, the hair on the back of my neck stands on end. I snap my head to the left, certain I heard a branch crack in the distance.

  Taking out my earbuds, I listen closely.

  The rustle of the wind has me yelping, setting the stage for how every horror movie starts. I strain my eyes, attempting to make sense of the shadow that I’m certain looks like a person hidden among the dense foliage. I hold my breath as I make out their shape until the greenery shifts, and my imaginary creature turns into a tree.

  Laughing to myself, I shake away such nonsense and decide to run back home. But as I reinsert my earbuds, I ignore the sudden feeling that I’m no longer alone. I have real monsters to deal with. There isn’t any room left for the imaginary kind.

  But as I turn on my heel, I can’t help but notice that the journey back home is a lot quicker than when I began.

  “To have and to hold, from this day forward. For better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health. To love and to cherish…till death do us part…”

  The vibrant sunshine bounces off the jewels encrusted along the sweetheart neckline. The white silk is soft to the touch. It’s everything a bride would want their wedding dress to be. Guests fill the garden, all cooing when the ever-important vows are exchanged.

  The bride stands proudly, tears pricking her hazel eyes. She’s marrying the love of her life. She feels beyond lucky to have found the other half of her soul. She can’t see him clearly as the lace veil shrouds her view, but she knows he’s handsome. She fell in love with him the moment they met. She can’t wait until she’s forever his.

  “I now pronounce you…”

  But darkness suddenly consumes the sunshine, and the clouds turn gray and angry. Horror soon replaces her happiness. Her groom becomes less distinct, his shape wavering and morphing into someone else.

  Clutching at the pearls around her neck, she attempts to scream, but she’s been robbed of breath. Night conquers day, and she is shrouded in darkness, wading through the confusion. She calls out to her groom, begging for him to explain. But she’s only left with more questions than answers because the voice that fills the air is not that of a bride but of a young girl, no older than eight years old. The once fitted wedding dress now pools at her bare, tiny feet.

  Her vision still cloaked, she wrestles with the veil, desperate to make sense of what’s going on. The world spins in a kaleidoscope of colors as she clutches at something tightly in her hand. It’s her safety net when times get tough.

  However, through the chaos, she focuses on a soothing voice, which has always been her beacon in a weathering storm. “Everything is always better after a thunderstorm…”

  Her universe centers, and she blinks back her fears. The boy who was once her groom stands before her in tattered clothes, but she doesn’t care. He is her home. He makes everything all right. He steps forward, gently cupping her trembling hand. It’s now she realizes that the silken object she holds is a red ribbon. Her SOS.

  A crooked smirk paints the boy’s full lips as he brushes away the tears from her cheeks with his thumbs. He only appears a couple of years older than she is. It’s evident he cares for her deeply. And she feels the same way.

  He is the only person who can explain to her why she can’t remember. “What’s my name?”

  He laughs, shaking his head in humor. However, when he senses the gravity of her question, he turns comforting, her protector. He wraps her in a tight embrace, and she relishes in the way her heart does a tiny flip-flop. But that soon transforms to dread. “Snow…your name is Snow.”

  The red ribbon falls from her hand, my hand, and I pass out.

  I wake, my heart threatening to spill from my chest.

  Brushing back the mussed hair from my brow, I frantically seek out my surroundings, unsure what the hell just happened. A heaviness sinks to the pit of my stomach.

  Muted voices alert me to my surroundings, and my brain finally plays catch-up. I’m home. I’m sprawled out on the ratty sofa in my living room, cocooned under a blanket. Now that my heart has returned to a semi-normal rhythm, I sit upright and ignore the thumping against my temple.

  Finding my feet, I stand slowly, unsure if the room will stop spinning. It does.

  Peering down, I see that I slept in my running shorts and tank—the ones I wore yesterday. Or today. I can’t remember. What day is it?

  “Hey. You’re awake.”

  “Holy shit!” I yelp, almost winding myself as I spin around to see Cayden standing in the archway, hands raised in surrender.

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. I knocked a few times. But you were out cold. You really need to lock your door,” he adds as I attempt to catch my breath.

  “I did lock it,” I finally reply, or maybe I didn’t. After scurrying home and ignoring the fact that I was seconds away from passing out from lack of oxygen, all I wanted to do was crawl under the blanket and tell my vivid imagination to chill the fuck out. I don’t remember much after that. “What time is it?” The sunshine streaming in from the windows reveals it’s daytime, but I have no idea of the time.

  “Just a little past seven.”

  So I’ve once again blacked out and woken in a complete state of confusion. These missing chunks of time worry me. Instead of remembering, I seem to be doing the complete opposite.

  “Where do you want it?” My house seems to be the budding hub this morning, so I overlook my crisis for now.

  A deliveryman with a clipboard enters, looking at Cayden, then at me. I don’t realize what Cayden is scowling about until the man stares pointedly at my breasts. During my blackout, I apparently had no problems unhooking my sports bra. I may not remember much, but comfort I remember quite well.

  Quickly crossing my arms over my chest, I clear my throat, not at all impressed.

  Neither is Cayden. “Front room,” he orders while I forget my bashfulness and shake my head.

  “No, hang on. Want what?” I ask, lost in translation.

  The deliveryman sighs. Someone clearly forgot their morning coffee. “Your bed. Where do you want it?” Mention of my bed has my protesting muscles cheerleading in delight.

  “Front room,” Cayden repeats while I purse my lips, annoyed.

  “The back room, please,” I correct, attempting to point the way with my arms still folded.

  It’s visual ping-pong as the deliveryman produces a pen from the breast pocket of his faded blue overalls. “Look, I get paid to deliver the thing. Where it goes is not my problem. Now, who’s going to sign for it?”

  Cayden sighs, running a hand through his hair. A sure sign I’ve won this battle for now.

  Accepting the clipboard and pen from the man, I sign as quickly as I can because I’m pretty sure he just sniffed me. When a grinding fills the room, the man snatches the paperwork and makes a beeline for the front door. Cayden’s clenched jaw is the reason he ran from the room.