the chief officers was in a coma, his twin took his place at the company, and his then fiancée knew or didn’t know? Regardless, the one woke up, the other apologized, and it was front-page news for a really long time. And after all that, the two brothers even voted out their own father and took over one of the biggest financial corporations in American history.
So naturally, that would take precedence over a Hollywood romance with its sad ending.
After all, nobody was interested in the way Noah and I ended. It wasn’t happy, and people liked the happy ending. They wanted to root for the underdog; they didn’t want him to die a painful death.
It was too realistic. Too close to home.
And people these days needed something that gave them hope, not made them realize how utterly sad life could actually be. The media firestorm happened during our relationship, followed by radio silence until I announced I was writing a book, and then my social media exploded to the point that the attention was almost scary.
Mom: Sorry, I said too much. Are you still there?
Me: Sorry, was just thinking. I’m unpacking, I’ll call tomorrow, I’m safe, I’m fine, send a helicopter if you get worried, hah hah.
Mom: Don’t tempt me.
Me: OMG Mom I’m twenty-four cut me some slack. Don’t send Gene!
Gene Springsteen was a family friend who did a lot of stunt work and was known as Hollywood’s young Chuck Norris. My mom had also been trying to set me up with him since Noah in order to cheer me up. I wasn’t interested in anyone. And I couldn’t imagine feeling anything for someone other than the man I buried.
Mom: Fine. I love you!
Me: I love you too.
I set my phone down and looked around what would be my home for the next month and realized in that moment that I hated the silence. I needed a TV on or something that would make me feel anything but as lonely as my heart reminded me I was.
How was I supposed to write our story? My story with Noah? When all I could focus on was the fact that I was there, living his dream, while he was in the cold hard ground.
Tears welled in my eyes.
“Goodbye is just that, a really good farewell,” he wrote out with a shaky hand on the notepad I’d been forced to give him. His hand dropped the pen and reached for my cheek, then fell away lifeless against the white duvet.
I spent a lot of time watching him sleep wondering if he would wake up again and continue our conversations about death. I had imagined the end would look different, but when Noah died it was as if he realized it was time to go and, like a bird, took flight.
I swiped hot tears from my cheeks and turned toward the large living room windows just in time to see headlights drawing closer to the cabin through the snow that had started coming down like a freaking blizzard while I took my trip down memory lane.
Headlights?
Out here?
If it was Mom, I was going to kill her.
If it was Mom and Dad, I was going to lose it.
At least it wasn’t a helicopter, which meant I was safe from Gene.
It was too dark to see anything but the headlights and the black of the car. I moved closer. Maybe the owners decided to check up on me? That had to be it.
Then again, no one mentioned that possibility when I put down my deposit.
A cold chill trickled down my spine when I realized how alone I was out here. I had cell service, but it wasn’t like I carried a weapon on me; I was completely defenseless.
I ran back to the kitchen, my eyes darting around for something to grab that wasn’t a mixing bowl or bottle of whiskey. I jerked a serrated steak knife free from the butcher block and turned toward the door. The cabin had an open floor plan for the living room and kitchen. I was at least twenty feet from the door as the sound of a key sliding through metal had my blood chilling even more. Then the knob turned as I hid my knife behind my back and had my free hand on my cell ready to call for help.
The door was shoved open.
I sucked in a sharp breath as a man made his way through carrying an expensive-looking camel-colored leather bag and another smaller suitcase.
His eyes roamed