It’s been two weeks since I left Rick passed out in his front room, and I’ve finally made it to my destination, Cabin Lake.
Driving up to the front cabin, where the reception area is located, I park the car and make my way to the front entrance. Once inside, I’m surprised by how big it looks. It’s the main cabin on the site, and I can clearly see why they’ve used the spacious area for the reception, but I don’t remember it ever being so large.
There’s a huge seating area, with gorgeous brown leather sofas set in front of a dimly lit fireplace. It looks warm and inviting, especially the chair in the corner by the floor-to-ceiling window looking out into the garden.
When I was little, the Salvatore’s lived in the back portion of the cabin, in an extension they had built over twenty years ago.
I remember coming here every other weekend and for the summer holidays with my mom and dad. They were the best times of my life. Even though we weren’t blood related, we were still a family. Mom and Lily made sure of it since they grew up together as best friends.
Mark’s father passed away years before my parents and left all the land surrounding Cabin Lake to Mark and his wife, Lily. I figured they would expand on the property, but I never expected it to look so different yet somehow still be the same.
Now that I’m standing here, I feel stupid. What if they don’t own it anymore? No! There’s absolutely no way they don’t own it. My mom and dad had their own cabin here for starters, not to mention the land has been in the Salvatore family for generations.
Surely I would know if they sold the place. Plus, my grandpa would have mentioned it to me. He, unlike me, kept in touch with the Salvatore’s and learnt pretty quickly after my parents’ passing not to mention them in front of me. Now I’m beginning to wish I’d asked questions or let him tell me what they were up to. At least then I’d have a clue as to what I’ve just walked in on.
I ring the bell on the front desk, crossing my fingers that it’s Mark who greets me.
After a few seconds a man comes out of the office, grabbing my attention. I watch him walk down the wooden stairs and a memory hits me of all the times Dean, their son, and I would run up and down them or play in the office. We were inseparable, even though he was two years older than me. He was the most handsome boy I’d ever seen. He had an easy charm to him, was funny and caring and had a boy-next-door kind of personality. He’s the main reason I loved coming here. Without him, I think I would’ve gotten bored.
The man walks towards me, keeping his head down. I don’t think he’s noticed me yet because he seems preoccupied and somewhat irritated.
“Hello, miss. Can I help you?” he asks, his face hard, staring at me in apparent frustration.
He may look pissed, but he’s certainly polite and professional. Studying his features closely, I’m surprised at how shockingly handsome he is, and then at the fact that the thought popped into my head at all. The man could easily be a model.
He’s wearing a black T-shirt that stretches tightly over his broad chest and a pair of worn jeans. He looks good; I’d have to be blind not to notice. He has a strong jaw; dark, piercing blue eyes; and short, dark hair. His skin is tanned from the summer sun and he towers over me. I’m only five-foot-four, so he must be going on six-foot-two if I were to take a guess.
Oddly enough, he looks familiar to me. In fact, he looks a lot like Dean. But if so, he would have remembered me, right?
I’m still lost in thought when he clears his throat. I need to talk to Mark, not ogle some stranger who is clearly having a bad day. Snapping out of it, I give him an apologetic smile.
“Hi, I, um… I was wondering if Mark Salvatore were here for me to talk to?” I ask, my voice hoarse from nerves and weeks of having no one to talk to. He looks taken aback for a second by my question and it has me wondering why. Then I see the flick of anger shining in his eyes. I automatically take a step back, my body starting to shake, knowing too well when someone is going to be aggressive.
“Have they sent you? Did those assholes send you? You can go back and tell them that they can stick their offer up their ass!” he roars, banging his fists on the front desk.
I’m ready to run out the door in fear, but then Mark comes storming out of the back room to see what all the commotion is about. Seeing him has me freezing in place, my legs, weighted to the floor.
“What on earth is going on?” he lectures, his jaw dropping when he sees me. He also seems to be frozen, but only for a second before he manages to snap out of it. The frown he wore when he first walked out turns into a huge-ass grin and I begin to relax somewhat. The other man, who I somehow forgot about, is looking at us, confusion written across his face. When he glances back at me, he gives me a sharp look, and I can’t help the smirk that lifts at the corner of my mouth.
Turning my attention back to Mark, I’m shocked that he’s exactly as I remember―built like a giant, eyes soft and warm, with a smile that would make anyone feel relaxed and welcome.
God, I’ve missed them. And up until now, I didn’t realise quite how much. My eyes begin to water as a pang of regret and sadness hits me.
“Well, look who we have here. Damn, Lola, you look so much like your mother,” Mark says, making me blush.
Coming around the reception desk, he walks over to me, pulling me in for a hug. I tense in his embrace, not used to the gentle affection he’s showing. He must sense my unease because he steps back, keeping his hands on my shoulders as he studies me from head to toe. I know he can see the slight bruising that I couldn’t manage to cover on my eye and cheek. It’s another reason why it took me so long to get here; I didn’t want to answer all their questions, so I waited it out until the visible bruises faded a little. Apart from the split lip and a slightly bruised eye, everything else is hidden by clothes and make-up. The gash on the top of my head needed stitches, but thankfully my hair covers the majority of it.
“Doll, have you been eating? Is everything okay? Oh God, it’s so good to see you. It’s been too long. We tried to get in touch, you know. We wrote to you so many times, but in the end, we agreed you would come back to us when you were ready,” he rushes out, still flabbergasted at my arrival.
He doesn’t mention the marks on my face but I know he’s noticed them. The emotions are clear in his eyes, going from concern, to anger and then back to curious and confused. Before I can answer him, the handsome, muscled man interrupts me.
“Dad? Care to explain?” he questions, and I store that bit of information away for later. His eyes never leave mine, making me fidget back and forth on the balls of my feet.
He’s looking at me like he’s trying to figure out who I am, just like I’ve been doing with him.
“This is Lola Lawson. How the hell didn’t you recognise her, son?”
I gasp, my eyes going back to the man. It is Dean! I haven’t seen him since I was twelve years old.
Now that it’s confirmed, I can’t keep my eyes off him.
He sure has grown into his body. He is definitely all man.
He turns back to me, his expression softening, and my heart starts to beat erratically. His eyes change to a lighter blue somehow, making him look more approachable and a lot like the Dean I remember. It’s not until Mark speaks that I finally tear my gaze away from Dean and his captivating eyes.
“Lola, this is my son, Dean. I thought I’d introduce you just in case you hit your head and forgot who he is too. Jesus! You two used to be attached at the hip. I guess time really has changed you kids,” he says sarcastically, his smile never wavering.
I smile, feeling lighter than I did when I first arrived. “Mr Salvatore, we haven’t seen each other in sixteen years. I didn’t exactly recognize him either,” I admit, forcing a giggle.
I can feel Dean’s gaze on me. Shivers run down my spine and my face flushes red for reasons I can’t explain.
I’m going to be honest. When I was younger, I had a major crush on Dean. My mom would always tease me and say, “One day, you two will get married and have children of your own.”
“To what do we owe the pleasure, my dear? I really am glad to see you. We’ve all missed you, doll,” he says, emotion filling his voice.
This is what I didn’t want. The sadness in his eyes as I look up at him is clear as day. I force a smile, trying to ease his worries. I wish I could explain why I did what I did, but after all this time, there is really no excuse.
I was twelve when I lost my mother and father in a car accident, and moving in with my grandma and grandpa had been an adjustment in itself. They lived farther away from my childhood home, so not only did I have to leave all my friends but the life I had with my parents as well. Losing both of them was so hard, and I found that once I moved into my grandparents’ house it was easier to block out my old life and the pain caused by bringing it up. Still, I should’ve been in contact before now, keeping them in my life like my mother and father would have wanted for me,
“I was wondering if our cabin was free to stay in,” I tell him sheepishly before just going for it, blurting out what I want to say before I chicken out. “I’m so sorry for not replying to any of your calls or your letters. With everything that happened with my parents’ passing, it was too hard. I should never have ignored you though, and for that, I am truly sorry.” Tears stream down my cheeks.
“Hey, it’s okay, doll,” he says soothingly. “Your cabin is always free. I’ve never allowed it to be rented out like it had been before. Aside from the cleaners I have in there on the odd occasion, nothing has changed from the last time you and your parents were here. Apart from the bed, anyway. We thought we should change it for when you came home.” A smile lights up his face. “You know, Cece and Owen wanted to give it to you when you finished university. I swear those two had everything planned out. Your mother was the worst. She even had your wedding organised, and you were only ten at the time.” He laughs and my heart swells with love.
“Really? I didn’t know that.” My chest tightens. “Is it… um…. Would you mind if I go on out there? I need to have a lie down. I drove down here and I haven’t been sleeping well,” I rush out, not having the heart to tell them I need some space, some time to process everything. Talking about my parents is causing old emotions to stir, and I don’t want to lose it in front of Dean and Mark.
Dean is the one to answer, startling me. “You drove down here, all the way from your grandpa’s? Why would you drive for that long?” he asks me. I don’t tell him I drove from Kent and now Carlisle; it would raise too many questions.
After driving for hours, I had to admit that Rick did more damage than I could handle on my own. I’d been self-medicating on pain pills and changing bandages. I knew Rick couldn’t have followed me because one, he was out cold when I left, and two, the doorman, Gavin, said he would tell Rick I left with a woman for a spa weekend. I completely trusted Gavin, as he’d worked in that building over forty years and knew everything that went on, including what Rick did to me. But even with his promise, I made sure to keep an eye out. So I went to the hospital, giving the name of a girl I once knew at uni.
It should only have been a day trip down here from Carlisle, a six-hour drive max. However, I made stops at Norwich, Herefordshire and then the detour I took going to my parents’ old house in Kent, staying there for a few days to recover alone. The whole house was void of furniture when I arrived, although that didn’t bother me so much. I was just grateful not having so many reminders of what I lost surrounding me.
When I arrived, I went out and purchased a sleeping bag and camped out in my old room. I don’t bother telling Mark or Dean any of that though; like I said, it would raise too many questions.
For a minute there, Dean seemed to be worried about me. I push it aside, not deserving any of their concern. He probably doesn’t even remember me―or hell, even care about me anymore. Why would he? It’s been sixteen years; he’s moved on.
“Yes, it was a long drive. I had a few things that I needed to do and a few other stops to make before I came here,” I tell them while shrugging. It technically isn’t a lie. I don’t want to have to lie about too much though. Knowing me, I’ll end up forgetting what I’ve told them and get myself caught up in one.
Lies always have a way of revealing themselves.
“It’s dangerous. You should have called one of us. We would’ve happily come and got you,” Mark says, looking a little hurt that I didn’t.
Dean turns to face me again. This time his irritation is written all over his face, but I just don’t know why. What the fuck is his problem? What did I ever do to deserve his hostility?
Snorting, Dean turns to his father.
“Dad, just let her go and rest. The poor girl looks like she just crawled out of a car crash,” he mutters, wincing when he realises his choice of words have hit a sore spot.
Just remembering the way my parents died brings a whole new level of sadness over me, tiring me out completely. I don’t even have the energy to flinch at his harsh words; instead, I just stare at him, showing him no emotion.
“Son, enough,” Mark snaps, glaring at his son.
“Okay, maybe I should just go,” I mumble, not wanting them to argue over me. I’m not worth it.
I hear Mark and Dean call my name as I rush out of the room but I ignore them, carrying on to my car, needing some fresh air.
I have no idea what to do now. Should I stay or should I go? I don’t want to cause arguments between them; they’re family, and I out of all people know just how precious family is. I never want to be the person who comes between that.
Letting out a deep breath, I notice my hands are shaking uncontrollably. Trying to calm myself, I sit in the front seat of my crappy car, taking in deep breaths, but it doesn’t work.
A loud knock on the window has me jumping and screaming in fear. I bang my head on the roof of the car and wince, gasping in pain.
A noise to my right has another sharp squeal escaping me, and I turn just in time for the door to open. My heart beats wildly in my chest and I swear I could see it beating through my tank top.
I’m surprised that it’s Dean opening the door and not his dad. I flinch when he bends down, kneeling in front of me as he pushes his head into the car and invades my personal space. I jump, trying to move back, but it’s no use; there’s nowhere to go. A sharp gasp escapes when Dean takes a loose strand of my wavy golden blonde hair, and tucks it behind my ear. He leans back once he’s satisfied that it’s not going to fall free again, giving me back some of my personal space, and I start to breathe evenly once more.
Curiosity, sympathy and concern reflect back at me when I look into his eyes, but the worst one, the one I hate, is the pity that’s written all over his face.
I narrow my eyes at him. I don’t want or need his pity.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you,” he says softly, like he thinks if he talks any louder he might startle me or bring on a panic attack.
I raise my eyebrows with more confidence than I feel. Yes, I’m being rude, for no reason whatsoever. He grins at my expression, which only infuriates me more.
“Honestly, I don’t bite.” He smirks, holding his hands up in surrender. “The reason I snapped at you earlier is because my dad is having some trouble with some folks who moved in across the lake. They’ve been trying to get us shut down for a while now and want us to sell them a piece of our land. As you can tell, we don’t want to sell, and they don’t like that. Still, I apologise for my behaviour. I was being rude and inconsiderate,” he admits before shaking his head. “I still can’t believe it’s you. I didn’t even recognise you. You’re more beautiful than I remember. Your hair is longer, the blonde a lot lighter.” He’s using that soft, dreamy voice of his again, a small smile playing on his lips.
As he takes in a long breath, I take a minute to go over everything he’s just said. Yes, I may have been naive when it came to Rick and his apologies, but with Dean his expression shows me how truly sorry he is. It’s either that or his dad threatened to kick his ass. Then again, even as a kid Dean had this way about him, and he always had a kind heart.
I wish he’d piss off.
The second the thought hits me I sigh, knowing I’m being irrational and bitchy because of my lack of sleep.
Dean would pick on me as a kid, but in a teasing kind of way. He was never hurtful, which is the only reason I’m still here, giving him a chance.
We were always together, so we never really fell out over anything―not over something serious, anyway. Plus, I secretly liked his teasing and the attention he paid me. It felt like we had this strong connection and bond between the two of us, much like the one I felt back in the reception area.
As a young girl with a crush, I always found myself telling him all of my secrets, no matter how embarrassing they were.
Knowing I’m doing my spaced-out thing, I shake my head, turning to answer him. “Honestly, it’s long forgotten, so you don’t need to be sorry. I really just want to get to the cabin and crash, if you don’t mind.”
He looks surprised by my admission and maybe even a little curious, most likely wondering if I’m being sincere or not.
“Yes, sorry to keep you. Are you sure you’re okay? Your lip and head, they don’t look so good,” he mentions sheepishly, looking wary about how I’ll react.
“Yeah, it was just a minor accident. Still clumsy Lola,” I lie dryly, forcing a chuckle and trying to make light of my injuries.
“So, before you go,” he starts, looking nervous. I inwardly groan, just wanting to go to bed. “I know you probably have one of those dongles, but Dad said to take you out to apologise for the way I reacted and well, it made me wonder if you minded catching up tomorrow and going to the local bookshop? Maybe grab some breakfast beforehand?
“Mom isn’t going to be back until the day after tomorrow. She went to some wine tasting event this morning, so it’s only me and Dad here and he’s busy. So, I, um… do you? I mean, you can say no, but the boat trip over there is amazing and you’ll love the bookshop they have. What am I saying? You probably hate reading now,” he finally finishes, looking flustered.
As much as I think he’s cute when he’s nervous, I can’t help but start getting impatient with him. It’s the cranky bitch I mentioned earlier coming out. It’s the first time I’ve felt safe enough to even want to sleep and I’m not going to pass up the chance, knowing I need it. The energy I did have left just seems to be pouring out of me; it’s why I’m so desperate to get out of here, not wanting to pass out in front of him.
I have to admit though, the fact he still reads intrigues me. I honestly believed he’d grow out of that once he hit puberty. I guess it’s hard for me to picture him reading, especially someone as good-looking as he is. It seems unfair that he has both qualities to him.
Needing to wrap this up, I sigh, knowing I don’t have a choice. Plus, I still haven’t started reading Fifty Shades Freed yet, so a trip to the book store is tempting. I also have a feeling he won’t stop until I relent.
“Dongle, Dean? Really? It’s called a Kindle.” A smile crosses my face and I chuckle when he blushes. He’s such a goof. “I would love to come. Sorry for snapping at you. I’m just really tired and want to get some sleep. How about I meet you down at the dock around, say… nine o’clock?”
He gives me the biggest smile I have ever seen, like I just gave him the secret to world peace and my breath hitches. His smile makes my heart beat faster, and I know I’m the one who’s blushing now. The feeling is so foreign to me that it has me pausing for a moment. A part of me wants to just push him away and speed off; the foreign feeling scares me that much.
“See, I’m thirty years old, and I have no idea what the thing is called. What I know is it puts bookshops out of business,” he rants, looking like he’s about to continue.
I nod, agreeing. “Goodbye, old man.” I force him away with my hand, a grin on my face.
I laugh whilst driving off, my eyes focused in the rear-view mirror, watching as Dean’s face lights up with a shit-eating grin.
I feel the tension coming off me the closer I get to the cabin. I didn’t even realise just how much I missed him or this place until coming here. It feels like I’m back with my parents and telling him I can meet him after I unpack, like old times. A sad smile reaches my lips at all the memories swimming in my mind as everything passes me by.
Finally, I pull up outside my parents’ cabin. Mark was right; the place hasn’t changed. It’s still the same as it was when I left all those years ago. Even the same flowers are growing in the pots my mom kept outside the cabin doors.
Leaving the safety of the car, I make my way inside. Tears sting my eyes when I notice my dad’s slippers and boots by the front door, my mom's coat still hanging up on the coat rack. I lean in, breathing in her scent. God, I miss her smell. Even though it’s faint, my mom’s scent is there.
I never had the heart to come down here to sort through their personal belongings. Grandpa offered to do it himself after I refused to talk to Lily and Mark, but I declined on his offer, wanting this place to remain the same. I guess in a way I knew I’d be coming back.
Speaking of that, I never even went through our family home in Kent. I left my grandpa to sort through it all and left my grandma to box all my stuff up for me, so I didn’t need to return here. I know my grandpa has kept some personal items that belonged to my parents in a storage unit, which I am truly grateful for. When I’m ready to, I’ll ask him to take me so I can go through it myself.
Moving farther into the cabin, I remember how Dad loved coming here. I was an only child, so I think that played a big part in the reason he would regularly bring us down for mini vacations. I think he wanted to give me a bigger family, someone to grow up with, and the Salvatores gave me that.
Mom couldn’t have any more children after complications whilst giving birth to me. It’s why I inherited everything when they passed away. Bu none of the money meant anything to me when I couldn’t have them. I miss them so much; every single day is a struggle, more so when I was a teenager, a young woman needing her mom.
Exhausted, I quickly run back out to the car, grabbing the first bag I can reach out of the boot. I drag it in, not even caring if it has anything I need in it. I’m too tired to go back out and grab the other case.
Walking towards the master bedroom, I stop at the door, not knowing whether to sleep in there or not.
Fighting back the tears, I take in a much-needed breath before pushing the door open. When it’s open, my earlier question about sleeping in here or not is answered. The bed is brand spanking new and is freaking huge. It’s bigger than any bed I have ever seen. Plus, I feel somewhat closer to my parents being in here, in a non-creepy way.
When I was ill, I would always sleep in my parents’ bed. There was something about being surrounded by their scent that relaxed and calmed me, always making me feel somewhat better. And although the bed is new, that scent still lingers in the cabin. It makes no sense, since they’ve been gone years, yet part of me feels like they’re here.
Losing them when I did broke me in a way that made me believe I would never recover. When people came to the funeral and hugged me, telling me they were sorry for my loss, I just wanted to scream, “If they were lost, I would go and find them” at them.
But they were gone, and they were never coming back.
I would hate it more when people would sit me down, telling me it would get easier in time, when they all knew it wouldn’t, not really. You just find a better way of masking the pain that consumes you.
I remember the day they died like it was yesterday; after all, it’s one of my worst nightmares.
Grandpa had turned up in the middle of a dance class and pulled me out, taking me to the hospital. He tried to explain, but nothing reached my ears after he told me they were in an accident.
The minute a doctor reached us at the hospital, they told us that my dad had died on impact and my mom passed away during surgery.
They were sorry for our loss.
I didn’t believe the doctor and I started hitting him, demanding he took me to them. I remember not being able to see through my tears and that my throat felt so raw, like a ball was stuck in my throat. I even told my grandpa that I hated him for believing them but after that, everything went black.
I was told later from Grandma that because I was so out of control, demanding they take me to my parents and fighting anyone who tried to stop me from searching for them, they had to heavily sedate me. It was probably for the best, but at the time I couldn’t forgive them for letting the doctors do that to me.
The funeral was just as bad. Seeing their coffins, knowing they were there, made me want to jump down, scream at them to wake up, to stop playing games so we could go home, beg them to come back to me. But I didn’t do any of that. I just sat there feeling numb.
My silent pleas went unanswered.
I close my eyes, letting my tears fall freely as I think about my parents, about Rick and about how my life used to be so normal.
I wish I could have that again.