Page 62 of Screwed

I finally dragged my carcass up, pressing the heel of my palm into my eyes. “He told us he’d only be back today. It’s not quite time to panic yet.”

Ava’s body sagged in relief. It was funny how we had to take turns reassuring one another that everything was going to be okay. Last night, it’d been Nate and me who’d been worried, and Ava who was the one to try to make us feel better. And I had to admit, I was a rather big fan of her methods.

My mind went back to what had happened. I probably should’ve been used to sharing her by now, after the shower session, but it was still so new to me. I couldn’t speak for the other guys, but I’d never had it on my radar that I could ever do something like this. And yet, both times we did this, I’d enjoyed it. I liked that her pleasure was amplified threefold. I enjoyed watching her lose her inhibitions and give herself over to everything we were making her feel. And in a weird way, there was something fun about working with my best friends to bring the woman I was obsessed with to a mind-shattering climax.

Ava’s eyes locked on mine, and her face turned red, as if she could see my thoughts. I looked at Nate, and he cleared his throat, climbing out of bed and shoving his boots on. I got up too, packing away the lingering memories of last night and determined to do something productive today that would also get Ava’s mind off her anxiety, just as she’d done for us.

“I have a plan for the day,” I announced, reaching up and stretching. Ava’s eyes cut down to the exposed part of my stomach where my shirt had ridden up, and she quickly flicked her eyes back to mine again. I couldn’t help the smile that crossed my face.

“Please tell me you’re not also planning on making a break for the town,” she said, folding her arms.

“Not exactly,” I said cryptically. “Let’s get some breakfast and coffee into our systems before I tell you guys about it.”

“Usually your offers to make breakfast are endearing. Now it just sounds ominous,” Nate mumbled, shaking his head.

“Hey, give him a break,” Ava said, grabbing a sweater to throw over her nightclothes. “If it was Deacon voluntarily doing the cooking… now that would’ve been the real omen.”

I laughed, enjoying that for even just a few minutes we could have this.

*

We were seated at the kitchen counter, fed and just now starting on our coffee. I fastened my heavy canvas vest, my knuckles brushing against Ava’s forearm as she reached for her mug. The look she gave me was soft and heavy, with a new certainty. Then her eyes drifted to Nate, where he was leaning against the doorframe, his mug gripped in his hand. He looked more centered than he had in a few days, his shoulders relaxed. It seemed as good a time as any to bring up what I had in mind.

“We need a contingency plan,” I said finally, breaking the quiet. Ava and Nate both looked at me, confused. “If Deacon doesn’t get back with whatever he’s heading out to get by nightfall, we’re sitting ducks here. But I think I know where to look.”

Nate raised an eyebrow, his eyes tracking the way Ava stepped closer to my side, her shoulder resting lightly against my arm. “Which is?”

“The old extraction lines,” I nodded, tapping a spot on the hand-drawn grid we moved here from the dining table. “I noticed them when I was first exploring this property, and I didn’t think too much of it at the time. It’s common enough around these parts. The logging company abandoned the upper shafts back in the nineties. There’s a storage shed near the number three portal.”

Ava’s eyes shone with understanding and a burgeoning excitement as my words clicked.

“If the locking mechanism held up against the damp, there’s likely some industrial-grade hardware down there we could use to choke out the main access trail.”

Nate grunted, a tight frown on his mouth. “It’s a risk, Ethan. Those shafts are unstable. And leaving the lake house unguarded—”

“I’m going with him,” Ava cut in, her voice steady as she put her coffee down. She put her hands on her hips, looking from Nate to me and back again. “You need to stay here to keep watch on the lower valley and the house. Two of us can cover the ridge faster.”

“What is it with everyone wanting to go on field trips in the middle of a fucking corporate stalking nightmare,” he said, pinching the bridge of his nose.

But I noticed something. He didn’t say no. In all the years I’ve known Nate, the second he was convinced that a certain plan or line of thinking was the best route, he was impossible to convince otherwise. He ruled the job site with an iron fist, and even though he was open to useful suggestions, he never deviated from a plan unless he had to.

But with Deacon last night and Ava today, he was different.

His rigid posture relaxed a little when Ava looked at him. He didn’t shut the idea down or pull rank. He looked, to my surprise, as if he was actually considering it. I swallowed hard.

He trusted us. All of us, me, Deacon, and Ava. Beyond that, he trusted me with Ava—his little sister’s best friend and one of the people I knew he felt an obligation to protect with his life. And for a man like Nate, that was a huge deal. It was a big deal to me, too.

He looked at her for a long time. Then he gave a single nod. “Keep your eyes on the tree line,” he muttered. “And stay off the ridge peaks.”

*

The path was completely swallowed by massive, old-growth Douglas firs and western red cedars that rose like pillars, blocking out what little remained of the weak morning sun. The damp air smelled of rotting loam and pine, with the sharp, mineral tang of wet stone.

The constant, distant lap of Blackwood Lake faded behind us, replaced by a suffocating mountain silence that was broken only by the occasional squawk of a stellar’s jay or the rhythmic, gritty crunch of our boots digging into the wet shale of the old mining trails.

If it hadn’t been for everything going on right now, I might actually have enjoyed this walk, especially because it was the first time I got to be alone with Ava in a while. But I couldn’t let myself forget I had to be vigilant.

Even during our quietest moments, I never stopped scanning the treeline. My eyes constantly tracked the hard edges of the dense forest—places where a straight line or unnatural shadow might betray a sniper’s nest or hidden spotter. Every few paces, I’d intentionally pause under the thickest canopy of a red cedar, using the low branches as natural defilade to keep us off the skyline and out of sight from any potential drones.