Page 41 of Screwed

I didn’t know what she was running from or what ghosts were chasing her, especially with the whole drone thing. I knew Deacon knew more than I did. Maybe even Nate. But until she trusted me with that truth herself, I was going to dedicate myself to protecting her, no matter what. Ava softened, her body visibly relaxing.

“I know,” she said quietly. “I know I’m safe with you, Ethan. It’s the thing I appreciate about you the most.”

Her words struck me like a blow. My chest puffed up with pride, but I simply gave her another reassuring smile and went back to what I was doing, my senses still primed to pick up on any potential threats in the vicinity. We were busy for maybe half an hour when the weather changed.

The shift didn’t happen gradually, as was expected around these parts. No, it just slammed into us. The blue sky vanished in what felt like an instant and turned black in even less time. The wind tore through the canopy above, making the trees groan and snap.

I jumped into action, knowing we had no time to waste. “We have to go. Now!” I yelled over the quickly growing roar of the wind.

We scrambled out of the lookout, Ava clutching the brass hinges to her chest as we sprinted down the slick, muddy trail. Rain began pelting us in freezing sheets. By the time we burst through the tree line onto the shore, the lake was unrecognizable. Whitecap waves were slamming against the bank. And we got there just in time to watch as a massive swell lifted our small skiff and hurled it sideways, smashing the fiberglass hull into a half-submerged rock with a sickening crash.

I felt my breath get sucked out of my lungs as my brain recalibrated.

I pulled my phone out of my pocket, and Ava did the same. She stared at her own screen, shivering and fingers tapping frantically on the glass as we both came to the same awful conclusion: there was no signal out here.

I cursed, shoving my phone back into my pocket.

“Nothing,” Ava gasped against the cold, the wind whipping her wet hair across her face. “I’m not getting emergency broadcasting, let alone a signal.”

My jaw tightened. “The storm is blocking the line-of-sight to the highway tower. We’re completely cut off.”

A temporary, painful jolt of failure hit my chest as I watched Ava shiver like that in the cold. I promised I would protect her, and that didn’t just extend to other people. I was going to get us both out of here eventually, but for now, we needed shelter.

I gripped her shoulder, pulling her close to shield her from the worst of the biting spray. I looked over her head at the dark, thrashing treeline of the island.

“We can’t stay on the beach,” I shouted over the squall. “We’ll catch hypothermia in less than an hour.” I pointed through the sheets of rain back to the ridge we had just abandoned.

Through the blurry downpour, the silhouette of the forester’s lookout post loomed against the sky like a lighthouse. I only realized now just how fragile and dilapidated it looked, its weathered wood dark with moisture. But it was our only shot. Ava’s head turned to look at where I was pointing. Her arms hugged her chest tightly, but she gave a frantic nod, clearly deciding for herself that the lookout post was as good a shelter as any we were going to get here.

Together, with our boots slipping on wet rocks and mud, we turned away from the wrecked skiff and began our trek back up the ridge to the isolated, forgotten building.

24

Ava

Well, if this sudden turn of events didn’t perfectly summarize my life, then I didn’t know what would.

Ethan and I were cramped inside the lookout, stuck in the single room with peeling wallpaper, a rotting wood floor and a corrugated tin roof that groaned and rattled under the rain. It suddenly seemed significantly less cozy than it had forty minutes ago. Thin streams of water leaked through the ceiling seams, and I was vaguely aware that the roof could probably cave in at any given moment. But I figured we had enough problems as is.

Ethan started foraging around. I watched in quiet fascination as he smashed an old, dry wooden chair against the floor, then bundled up some yellow forest logs he found in a corner and used his pocketknife to shave off dry splinters. I realized now what he was doing. He was making a fire.

He sparked the pile of makeshift kindling and tinder with his lighter, sheltering the tiny flame with his hands until the dry wood caught. Only once we were huddled together, trying to take advantage of both each other’s body heat and the fire, that he finally spoke again.

“I’m sorry about the storm,” he said, sounding genuinely mad at himself. He was staring into the fire as though the answer to why Washington had such shitty weather patterns could be gleaned from the smoke. “I should’ve paid closer attention to the weather. I should’ve—”

“Ethan,” I said, spluttering with helpless laughter as I took his hands in mine. I forced him to look at me. “You are good at so many different things, but I’m sorry to inform you that controlling the weather isn’t one of them.”

The hint of humor in my voice seemed to put him at ease, and his face softened. He gently squeezed my hand.

“I know, it’s just… this whole trip was supposed to make you feel better, and now I’ve got you trapped in some shitty, poorly insulated lookout post with no signal and a wrecked boat.”

I feigned a few moments of deep thought. “You’re right. This was absolutely the worst idea in the world, and you’re an awful person for dragging me out here. It’s not like I am an adult with agency who made a choice to come with you. It’s not like I enjoyed the entire time we spent here together before the rain started falling. And it’s not like I enjoy just spending time with you now.”

His eyes gleamed.

“Ease up on yourself, Moore,” I said quietly. “I had a great time. And I still don’t think it’s as much of a train wreck as you think. After all, I’m stuck here with you. I can think of worse fates.”

He chuckled, his thumbs stroking the back of my hands. “You’re such a special person, Ava.”