Authors: Mandy Hubbard
I’m so caught up in my own thoughts that before I know it, we’re at the winding road to Logan’s house. I sit up as we pass the familiar, overgrown hedges.
Adam turns through the rusty iron gates, and we glide down the cracked concrete driveway, pulling up in front of Logan’s gothic house.
“That is seriously the coolest place I’ve ever seen,” Allie says, awed as she stares up at the three-story behemoth.
“I think it’s kind of creepy,” I say. My vision of the house will forever be tied to Daemon’s dark sneer, to the image of the little twin girls with a tragic fate. I can’t view it as just a house anymore.
Then again, Daemon’s been on my mind a lot lately. Luckily, tomorrow is Sunday. The day of our sit-down with him. I’m dreading it, but I want answers. I can’t stop wondering if he’s responsible for the red handprints…and other things as well. Things like Bick’s accident.
We
have
to confront him.
Adam jumps out and pushes his seat forward, and I climb out, happy I’ll be sitting in the front seat of Logan’s Jeep and not the sardine can known as the backseat of a Samurai. I stand in the driveway and look up at the mansion, shielding my eyes from the glare of the autumn sun.
An upstairs window is ajar, gray curtains flapping through the opening. I see a tall figure flash by and then there’s Logan, popping out the front door, impossibly fast. I glance back up at the window to see if someone else is up there, but there’s nothing but shadows.
“Hey,” he says, leaning in to kiss me.
“Hey,” I say. “Is that your uncle upstairs?”
Logan turns and looks up at the curtain as it flutters in the breeze. “No, he’s away on business for a while. That’s Daemon’s room.”
“Oh,” I say. So Daemon showed me his own room, not Logan’s, on the tour?
“So, you ready for this?”
I take in a ragged breath of air. “Sure. Number six. Four-by-fouring. I can totally do this.”
He grins. “You’re riding with me, right?”
I nod and follow him to his shiny red Jeep, glancing back to wave at Adam, who is supposed to lead us up some old backroads to Evans Creek ORV Park, since Logan and I have never been up there. He climbs into his Samuari, taps his horn once, and turns his car around as I climb into Logan’s Jeep.
We leave the creepy mansion behind and follow Adam down some back roads, across a bridge or two, up a winding,
narrow road on the side of a mountain. Overgrown branches scrape at the vinyl windows as we snake between trees, around curves.
We stop at a tall, narrow bridge, waiting for a 1950s Chevy truck with rusty fenders to pass by. The bridge is hundreds of feet tall and only wide enough for one vehicle. Once we have the bridge to ourselves, we cross, sailing impossibly high over the Carbon River.
Somewhere along the way, while I’m staring up at the canopy of Evergreen trees, Logan’s fingers find mine. I’ve craved his touch all week long, and finally, here we are.
“You never told me why Daemon got expelled from Cedar Cove,” I say.
His warm touch turns awkward when he stares back out the windshield. When he slows for a curve, he has to untangle his fingers from mine and shift. “It’s a long story,” he says.
“It’s a long drive,” I say.
He purses his lips. “I know you want to know, but…I’ve spent the last year feeling like everyone looks at me differently just because of him—Daemon. And I can’t take it anymore. I just don’t want to talk about it right now,” he says.
I look down, twisting my hands in my lap. “When will you?”
“I promise I’ll tell you eventually. But can you please just trust me?”
“I already do, Logan. It’s Daemon I don’t trust. I want to know what he did.”
“Can we talk about it after we’re done Jeeping? We’ll go get dinner or something.”
“I guess. Yeah. Sure.” I sigh, barely holding onto my patience.
“Good,” he says, brightening. “Now, tell me: What’s number four?”
I turn to him, and despite my earlier annoyance, find my lips curling into a smile. “Driving on the freeway.”
“Seriously? You’ve never driven on the freeway?”
I shake my head. “I made my dad take me to Puyallup for my driver’s test because I heard they only make you go on local roads.”
“And?”
“And the rumors were true,” I say, staring down the steep, jagged angles of the mountain. Maybe driving up a crazy, rutted backroad should have been on my list too. I feel like we could slide right down the hill, and we’re not even to the off-road park yet.
“You’ve really never driven on the freeway? Ever?”
“Not once.”
“Wow. I have to admire your persistence, at least,” he says, grinning at me in a way that makes me forget that we’re hundreds of feet up in the air, twisting and turning on a perilous mountain.
And that we’re about to careen down it…intentionally.
We pull into the gravel lot by Evan’s Creek, and Adam stops, gets out of his SUV, and then jogs back to Logan’s window. Logan rolls it down, and Adam rests his forearms on the sill as he leans down. “We can go easy or challenging.”
“Easy,” I say, just as Logan says, “Challenging.”
I turn and glare at him—only sort of kidding—and then look at Adam. “Come on, guys, I have a broken collarbone. Can’t we just take some nice, leisurely trails?”
Logan and Adam share a look and I can’t tell what it means, but before I can protest, Adam nods and heads back to his Samurai.
I swallow. “So you’re doing easy, right?”
“You’ll be fine, Harper. I promise. I won’t let anything happen, okay?”
I take in another ragged breath of air and nod, willing myself to believe that even though this all feels really similar to the quad-riding episode, at least this time Logan will be with me til the very end. “Okay. Yeah. Let’s just get this over with.” I tighten my own seatbelt. Allie goes off-roading with Adam all the time and says it’s a blast. If she can handle it, I can too.
Logan shifts into gear as Adam pulls out, heads between two fir trees, and disappears into the shadows.
We follow, splashing through a few puddles, the mud-brown water spraying out around us. Adam’s black Samurai pulls away as Logan slows. The monstrous climb looms in front of us.
“We have to give him a little space on hill climbs,” Logan explains. “If he gets in a tough spot, we don’t want to be too close.”
I nod, but I’m not sure whether I should feel relieved by the confidence in his voice or freaked out by the idea of being “in a tough spot.” What does that even mean?
I can just see the flash of brake lights from Adam’s black Samurai at the midway point in the climb, partially obscured by the new orange and yellow foliage on the deciduous trees.
“Logan?” I ask, my voice rising.
“I got it,” he says.
“Oh.” I try to imagine myself at home, relaxing on the couch, watching
Titanic
with Allie.
“Okay. We should be good,” he says a long moment later. I ditch the vision of a comfy couch and grip the handle on the dashboard as Logan shifts into first gear, spinning his tires in the mud as we set off.
We hit the bottom of the hill at what feels like high speed, and I think I might fly right out of my seat. Halfway up, though, I realize he had to do that and that we’re slowing as we climb higher, losing momentum.
I grip the door handle with white knuckles.
We hit a giant hole bordered by two large boulders and I nearly hit the ceiling, my hair flying up around me. I grimace, cradling my arm to protect my collarbone, but a moment later I change my mind and grab the handle again.
Logan hardly moves, and my fear ebbs. He’s got one foot on the clutch and the other on the gas. Meanwhile, one of his hands is on the wheel and the other on the stick as he tries to make it out of the huge hole without hitting the boulder on my side. His face is serious, concentration taking over.
So he’s really not a rookie. I unwind a little and relax my death grip on the handle.
Logan stares forward, tense as he grinds the gear—nearly
missing it all together—and then hits it and we lurch forward.
We get out of the hole and creep forward, and I slide back in my seat as we hit the steepest part of the climb. I hold my breath as Logan eases up the last stretch, ultimately lurching over the edge of the hill, where Adam’s Samurai comes into view.
“Nice job,” I say, punching Logan playfully in the shoulder.
“You say that as if you doubted me,” he says, grinning.
I grin, feeling as if I’m literally on top of the world. “Nah. I knew you could do it.”
He beams. “See? Another fear off the list. That wasn’t so bad, right?”
“Yeah, yeah. It was actually kind of cool,” I say. Adrenaline pumps through me, and I feel like I’m on a sugar high. That was incredible. Scary and boundary-pushing but incredible.
“Let’s jump out and stretch our legs,” Logan suggests, obviously aware that I’m going to need a moment to take it all in.
We climb out and stroll past Adam and Allie, who are still sitting in his Samurai, to a point where the trail curves.
I stop at the edge of the trail, and Logan steps up beside me, so close we’re touching shoulders. Sunset is just beginning, the sky tinged with shades of violet and pink, highlighting the snow-capped peak just across the valley.
True, I can see Mt. Rainier from my own front yard—Enumclaw is the closest real town to Mt. Rainier National Park—but it’s nothing like this. Here, it feels like I could touch it, toss a rock and have it land in the snow on the peak.
It’s enormous, craggy, and rocky, beautiful, the snow reflecting the growing pink sunset.
“Wow,” I say, breathless. “If I had known it was this pretty, I might have let you talk me into this sooner.”
“Are you ready for round two or what?” Adam hollers from twenty feet away. “My spidey sense tells me that it might rain.”
“What are you talking about?” I spin around and glare at Adam for breaking our romantic moment, but then I just roll my eyes when I realize he’s literally hanging out the door of his Samurai. “All right, let’s just get this done.”
We go back to Logan’s Jeep, and Logan seems to be shifting around a bit, uncomfortably. I look out the window and realize that sure enough, Adam was right—there
are
storm clouds building in the distance, just over the mountain peaks.
“Strange that we didn’t notice those before,” Logan says, echoing my thoughts.
“Don’t worry,” I say, hoping my voice comes across with more confidence than I feel. “They might get some lightning back in Enumclaw, but the darkest clouds are so far away, I’m sure the most we’ll get here is a light drizzle.”
Logan nods, but I’m not sure if he really buys my theory. We ride quietly down the flat side of the trail loop, which isn’t nearly as hairy as the hill climb, and the pretty mountain peak disappears behind us.
Just up ahead, Adam taps his brakes, and then turns left, his Samurai disappearing between the trees. Logan turns in the same spot, then hits the brakes.
Below us, Adam’s Samurai lurches down the hill, his brake
lights brightening here and there as he goes around giant holes and craggy rocks. Logan flicks on his wipers as raindrops dot the windshield, just as Adam predicted.
They squeak and whine across the glass as the Samurai disappears from view.
“Wow. That looks…” My voice trails off, and I wait for Logan to comfort me, talk me out of being freaked out, but he doesn’t say anything.
Instead, he reaches for the stick.
“Don’t you think you should give Adam more—”
But Logan’s tires are already rolling over the ledge.
“Stop!” I say, stamping my foot down as if I have a brake on my side. I don’t know anything about this stupid sport but this doesn’t seem right. If Logan had to give Adam space going up a hill, wouldn’t he need to going down too, especially now that it’s raining?
I think I hear thunder, but I can’t tell because the engine is too loud.
Logan doesn’t speak, just shifts into
second.
Second gear? Down a hill this steep? Instinct tells me second gear is too fast. Fear streaks up my limbs, intertwines with my heart in a way that makes it hard to speak. “Slow down,” I grind out through gritted teeth.
The Jeep glides faster and my heart climbs up my throat, as if it wants out of my body.
“Slow down!”
Logan doesn’t acknowledge me. His dark eyes are unreadable, staring straight ahead. He’s not even blinking.
He can’t go down a hill like this in
second gear.
Is he freakin’ suicidal? We’re picking up speed, hitting rocks with such a hard jarring motion it sends waves of pain up my spine, and the ache in my shoulder spreads. The key ring jingles hard with each bump and I hang on so tightly my fingers ache.