Adam: It opened! 0718. Want me to steal some stuff?
Adam: Jk
Adam: Or am I…?
Adam: Wait
Adam: Isn’t your bday July 18?
I sit in my car, staring at Adam’s last text.
He’s got a good memory.
Why would Dom use my birthday as the combination to his safe?
During the trip through the canyon, I’d pushed this to the back of my mind. But now, with the proof from Adam, I can’t ignore it anymore.
But what does this mean?
It makes no sense.
Maybe…maybe it was for the same reason I wanted the combination. In case something happened to him.
But if Dom disappeared and I had to open the safe without his guidance, I never would have guessed my birthday as the combo. I would have tried Dom’s. Then the twins’. Rosaline’s, because he might have set it before their divorce. His parents’.
Josh’s would’ve made sense.
Mine…doesn’t.
A tap on my window makes me jump, and I glance through the glass to see the confusing, infuriating man frown at me.
“What?” I shout, not ready to open my door, and not wanting to turn my car on in order to roll down the window.
Dom steps back, crosses his arms over his chest, and tilts his head toward the house. He should look like a dork, wearing the Dismals Canyon baseball hat he bought to match mine and fulfill Josh’s letter request. But he still looks hot, fuck him very much.
Come inside, his body says.
The silent command brings out my petty bitch. I shoo him with my hand, then turn back to my phone and bring up my Redford email. I can’t keep spiraling over the safe-combination mystery when he’s staring at me. Might as well catch up on some work until he leaves me be.
A moment later, my car gives a slight rock. I glance up to spy the side of his torso out of the corner of my eye. Dom leans his broad body against the passenger door of my car.
Waiting for me.
Muttering a string of curses, I shut my phone off, unbuckle my seat belt, and fling the door open.
“What are you doing?” I snap.
“It’s dark.”
“Your observation skills astound me. Truly. I thought it was a sunny afternoon.”
Dom watches me with an unreadable face. “You should come inside.”
“Inside is literally thirty feet from my car.” I snatch my pack—lighter now that Josh is gone—and the plastic bag of souvenirs for Jeremy and Tula from the passenger seat before climbing out and slamming the door shut. “What part of this trek did you think I’d struggle with, even in the dark?”
Dom doesn’t answer, only pushes himself off my car and strides toward the door.
He’s the one in danger. He’ll be lucky if I don’t sneak into his room in the middle of the night and smother him.
Once we’re inside the cabin, Dom doesn’t try to dictate any more of my actions. Maybe he does have some sense of preservation.
If I were even slightly tired, I’d lock myself in my bedroom and try to sleep. But it’s like the glow of the worms was pure electricity, and now I’m supercharged. If I shut myself in my room, I’ll just pace and overanalyze the birthday combination mystery. I need to reconnect with my comfort zone.
Luckily, a cozy cabin is the perfect place to do that. Ducking into my bedroom, I shut the door to gain brief privacy while I change out of my hiking clothes and into well-worn flannel pants and the massive hoodie Josh sent me from Florida a few years ago because he thought the crocodile and alligator high-fiving on the front of it was funny. The hoodie is so baggy, and the material so thick, and my boobs so small, that I don’t see the point of a bra. After rifling through my bag, I find my noise-canceling headphones. I slip them on before leaving my room.
Easier to ignore Dom this way.
With my latest audiobook playing, I let my mind sink into the soothing story of a princess in a fantasy kingdom taking bloody revenge on her enemies while trying not to fall for the ruthless vampire warlord who rules the neighboring kingdom as I wander around the living area, searching for what I know in my bones must exist in this cabin. I discover my treasure in the cabinet under the TV.
A puzzle.
Most rentals tend to have one. And I love seeking them out.
Despite my largely hermitic lifestyle, I have gone on a few trips over the years. Josh could usually convince me to meet him somewhere, most often by sending me descriptions of a cool coffee shop or weird attraction. But my brother knew I could only handle so much high-energy fun, so at some point during an excursion he would go off on his own to explore while I would stay back, recharge my introvert batteries, and work on the random puzzle at the rental.
This one is promising. A collage of classic national park posters. I glance at the top of the box once, then flip it over, not to be referenced again. I’ll complete the puzzle if I want to earn the picture.
A large coffee table made of worn wood provides the perfect surface to work on. I can tell in a glance that the dimensions are large enough to fit the puzzle. With one of the throw pillows from the couch, I settle in a cross-legged seat on the floor and rifle through the soft cardboard pieces, searching for the edges and setting them out one by one.
All the while, I ignore the man coexisting in this space with me. If I’m lucky, he’ll go to bed soon, and I can puzzle in peace.
Apparently, my luck is still at zero because Dom decides to linger.
No. “Linger” isn’t the right word. If he simply lingered, I might be able to ignore him.
But Dom, always in need of a purpose, fills the periphery of my vision with his room-circling. As I try to focus on my audio story and colorful pieces, he stops every few feet to pick up objects, fiddle with them, and put them back down.
The air of determination surrounding him bothers my brain like pollen irritates my airways.
When he fully pulls a large clock off the wall, I can’t handle his self-important fidgeting anymore.
“What the hell are you doing?” I snap, tapping the side of my headphones to pause my book before pushing them off so I can hear myself berate my unwanted roommate. “Searching for recording devices? Casing the place? Stop touching all the stuff!”
Dom doesn’t look at me as he turns a knob on the back of the clock.
“There are more than ten clocks in this place,” he says. “And they’re all set to the incorrect time.”
I snort, then scan the room, realizing every item he’s messed with is a time-telling device of some kind. Of course that would frustrate Mr. I’m Never Late If I Aim to Be Ten Minutes Early.
“They’re just decoration.” Most of the old-fashioned-looking devices fit the lived-in vibe of the cabin. Not that Dom would care. His place is probably all chrome and straight edges and fit for a robot. Ugh, I bet he’s a minimalist. “Knickknacks can be aesthetically pleasing.”
“Clocks serve a purpose,” he mutters. “Wrong clocks are aesthetically aggravating.”
His agitated movements are making it impossible to focus on my puzzle.
“Can’t you use your phone to check the time like a normal person? Or, I don’t know, my brother’s watch?”
Damn. I was trying to be aloof, but resentment creeps into my tone on that last bit.
Every time I see Dom wearing the watch, it’s a reminder that Josh isn’t.
Because he’s gone.
Dom pauses in the act of hanging the clock back on the wall, glancing my way. I weld my eyes to the jumble of pieces on the coffee table, ignoring the glimpse of vulnerability I allowed him.
Next I know, he’s crouched at my side, clock abandoned as his fingers fiddle with the leather strap around his wrist. My breath catches when Dom slips the timepiece off and holds it out to me.
“If you want it, it’s yours.”
I stare at the familiar accessory. Josh only took the watch off at night to sleep. I can’t remember a time when he didn’t have it with him. One day the watch appeared on his wrist, and it became a part of him like the calluses on his fingers and the scar on his forehead from the time he fell out of the apple tree in the Perrys’ backyard.
For a moment, I imagine accepting the offer, slipping this piece of my brother on and holding him with me forever.
But I know myself. Know that I can’t stand bracelets or even hairbands around my wrists. As much as I’d love and cherish the device, I’d eventually take the watch off. Then I would put it down somewhere, and it would disappear one day, mixed in with my clutter.
Another piece of Josh would vanish.
I grit my teeth and close my eyes.
Dom would never be so careless. He probably has a custom-made watch stand by his bedside and cleaning supplies to make sure the glass face doesn’t smudge.
“Keep it,” I grind out. “He left it to you.”
“Maddie—”
“Leave me alone. I’m puzzling.” I put my headphones back on, restart my book, and command my eyes to only look at the pieces in front of me.
Still, I can sense when Dom stands and moves away. He stays in the main area for a stretch, moving around the kitchen. Probably correcting the microwave and oven clocks. Eventually, he disappears down the short hallway to the bedrooms.
I think I hear his voice attempting to penetrate the noise cancellation of my headphones, but I can’t be sure, and I don’t bother to check.
The puzzle lulls me into a meditative state. When I finally press the last piece into place, I realize a good amount of time must have gone by, because my shoulders and back ache and my headphones feel welded to my skin. When I peel them off, the quiet cabin seems loud, but it’s just my ears readjusting to the fresh airflow. Glancing at the wall clock, I find it’s well past midnight. A fact I can trust because of Dom’s Father Time efforts.
I stand, my joints creaking with the movement, and I bite back a groan as I stretch my arms high over my head. Multiple cracks sound off in my body, and I sigh in relief.
Then I wander around the room, picking up each clock I find, fiddling with the dials at random, and setting them back in place before heading to bed.
Dom needs to learn there’s things in life you can’t control.
And I’m one of them.