Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 76478 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76478 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
“Hungry?” Max murmurs from behind the stovetop as I groggily make my way into the kitchen. It’s an old one that requires a fire to be lit beneath the plates. The smell of sweet, crisp bacon and fluffy buttered scrambled eggs drifts through the air. My tummy grumbles.
“Starving. Thank you.” I slip onto the bar stool and reach for the teapot. My eyes fly around the cabin again. “I take it no power?”
Max doesn’t turn to face me. “No. We’re completely off the grid out here.” Interesting. I inwardly wonder why one might need a cabin off the grid, but I don’t voice it.
Pouring myself a cup of the hot tea, I place the kettle back onto the stone counter. “It’s beautiful, you know.”
Max turns around with the pan in his hands, placing it straight onto the counter. Must be a perk to having it built from stone, not having to stress if you’re burning the counter. “You think?” He begins dishing out the food onto a couple of plates. “Beautiful? Really? Haven’t really thought of Fate like that.”
I slide my plate closer to me and take hold of a knife and fork. “Fate?” I ask, biting into my sourdough toasted bread.
He takes a seat beside me, a piece of bacon hanging from his mouth. There’s something very obvious that I have not stated. I’m not ready to admit it yet either, because it is beside the point. Max bites his bacon and chews. “That’s what this cabin is called. Fate.” Max is wearing a pair of dark jeans, military-style boots, and a white button-up flannel with a few buttons undone. Over the bacon and eggs, the smell of his fresh soap envelops my senses, while his thigh presses against mine.
I gulp, moving away from him instantly.
“Sorry,” he mutters, turning to face me. “You okay?”
I bite into a piece of bacon. “Yes. I think I’m starting to feel a little more human. Well, Fate is beautiful.” I don’t think my transition into changing the subject was as smooth as I thought it was.
He grunts, reaching for his tea and taking a sip. “Not always.” He pauses, and it took me a few seconds to catch his doubled-edged answer. “I can’t imagine how you must be feeling. The drugs should be almost cleansed from your system.”
“Don’t take offense to this, but you don’t strike me as a doctor.” I quickly shovel food into my gob so I don’t say anything else that I might regret.
He chuckles for the first time ever, and I finally get a glimpse at his Colgate-white teeth that hide behind the beard. “I get that a lot when I’m not in my scrubs.”
“I’m sorry that I don’t remember you, Max.” I wish I did. Then maybe I’d trust him a little more.
“It doesn’t matter, Isa. That’s not what matters or why I saved you.”
“And why is that?” I ask, tilting my head and flicking the bacon between my fingers. “Why did you save me?”
“You were my patient for months. I spent, at times, days beside you. Trying to figure out what it was that was happening upstairs in that head of yours.” He turns around completely, his legs now spread to my side. “I became obsessed with wanting to know your story. Why you were there.”
“Because of my dad?” I ask, searching his eyes.
He waves me off, his head cocking back. “Fuck your dad.”
I burst out laughing, and god it feels good. My shoulders vibrate, tears spill from my eyes, and for once, they aren’t tears that are a product of pain. They’re tears of happiness.
I swipe at my cheeks. “I’m sorry. That was just very funny to me.” His face is serious, his lips in a flat line. I instantly still. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to—”
“—no, that’s not it.” He shakes his head.
“Well what is it?” I ask softly, though I’m not sure I want the answer. I can’t help but notice the invisible draw that I feel toward Max. But I can ignore it.
“I’ve thought about what your laugh would sound like for what feels like years. I’ve wondered what your smile is like, too. Now I got them both and I gotta say…”
“Say?” I urge, though I don’t know why I’m hanging off every word.
“That your husband was a dumb motherfucker.”
I laugh again, turning back to my bacon and cutting off the moment we shared. “You sure you don’t know Bryant? Because motherfucker was one of his favorite words.” We fall into easy conversation and Max tells me that Fate was the only place he could bring me to and it be safe enough for us to relax and concoct a plan—which he also admitted to not actually having one. I feel at ease with Max, a peculiar comfort that unsettles me to some degree, because of my past experiences, I shouldn’t be so quick to warm up to people.