CHAPTER FOURTEEN—The Fear That Slowed Her Steps
Elena didn't drive to the cabin that night. She told herself she would, that she only needed a few hours to breathe before facing whatever waited for her there. But when she sat alone in her living room, the key resting like a heartbeat against her palm, fear anchored her in place.
Not the kind of fear that sends you running.
The kind that holds you still.
The kind that knows the truth can break you all over again.
She placed the key on the coffee table, its faint shine catching the lamp's glow. Her chest tightened. That cabin represented a future Daniel had been building for her, one he never had the chance to show. It held promises she never received and questions she wasn't sure she had the strength to answer.
A soft knock on the door startled her.
She hesitated, then opened it.
Caleb stood outside, hands tucked in his jacket pockets, concern etched in the lines of his face. He studied her quietly, and that was somehow worse than words.
"You didn't go," he said gently. It wasn't a question.
She shook her head, leaning against the doorframe because her legs felt a little unsteady. "I… couldn't. Not yet."
Caleb nodded slowly. "That's okay. You don't have to rush."
His kindness cracked something inside her. "I feel like I should go. Like waiting is wrong."
"That place isn't going anywhere," he said softly. "But you're still healing. Your heart gets to move at its own pace."
He always said things like that, in ways that made her feel seen without feeling exposed. Elena stepped aside, letting him in. Caleb walked into the living room, his eyes falling to the key on the table.
"Do you want me to stay with you tonight?" he asked gently.
Elena hesitated. Not because she didn't want him there, but because she did. Too much. The warmth of his presence scared her sometimes. It reminded her how loneliness had carved deep places inside her, and how easily someone kind could fill them.
"I'm okay," she said softly.
But he didn't move. He just studied her with a quiet intensity. "You don't have to be."
Elena held his gaze, feeling her walls shift, trembling like leaves in a storm. She wanted to lean on him. Wanted to let herself be held together by something steady and real. But doing that felt like stepping onto a fragile line between past and future.
"I'll be fine," she repeated, softer this time. "I just need time."
Caleb finally nodded. "Then I'll give you that." He picked up his jacket, pausing at the door. "But if you feel overwhelmed… Call me. Even if it's late."
She smiled weakly. "I will."
When the door clicked softly behind him, the silence in the room felt heavier. Lonelier. She rested her forehead against the wood for a moment, breathing slowly, wishing she could steady the ache inside her.
Hours passed. She tried reading, then cleaning, then sitting quietly, but her thoughts kept circling back to the cabin. The way Mrs. Whitaker's voice trembled when she talked about it. The way Andrew seemed haunted when he handed her the key. And the way Caleb looked at her like he wanted to shield her from a truth he couldn't see.
By the time midnight came, she was exhausted. Emotionally drained. She curled up on the couch, pulling a blanket over herself, the key still on the table where she could see it.
She thought sleep might bring relief, but it brought memories instead.
Daniel smiled as he picked her up and spun her around after she said yes.
Daniel holding her hand during their walks by the creek.
Daniel whispered promises he never had the chance to fulfill.
Daniel leaves for a trip he never returned from.
She woke with tears drying on her cheeks.
Morning light slipped quietly through the curtains. She sat up slowly, her eyes drawn immediately to the key. It seemed to wait for her. Patient, unchanging, unforgiving.
A quiet scrape outside startled her. She stood quickly, moving to the window. A shadow moved near the old oak tree in her yard, just out of the sun's reach. Her breath caught.
It was Andrew.
He stood still, too still, watching her house with an expression she couldn't read. Part sorrow, part torment, part something else she didn't want to name. His hair was disheveled, his clothes creased, as if he hadn't slept either.
She opened the door before she could talk herself out of it. The cold air rushed against her, raising goosebumps on her arms.
"Andrew," she called softly.
His head snapped toward her.
"Elena," he said, voice raw.
She stepped closer. "What are you doing here?"
He swallowed hard, looking like someone trying to hold back a confession and a breakdown at the same time. "I wanted to make sure you were okay."
Her chest tightened. "You don't look okay."
Andrew gave a small, broken laugh. "I'm not."
He reached up, rubbing his palms against his face. "I keep thinking about the cabin. About everything I didn't say. Everything I still can't say."
Elena felt a tremor of fear—not of him, but of what his words might mean. She had always known Andrew carried grief, but this was something heavier. Something that twisted his soul.
"Andrew…" she whispered, "just tell me."
He shook his head. "Not yet. You're not ready."
Her breath caught. "Then why are you here?"
He looked at her with eyes that seemed to hold too many storms. "Because once you go there, everything changes. And I don't want to lose the chance to explain."
Her pulse quickened. "Explain what?"
Andrew opened his mouth, but a flicker of panic twisted his expression. He stepped back, shaking his head as if pushing away thoughts he wasn't ready to release.
"I'll come back when I can talk," he said suddenly. "Just… be careful, Elena."
And then he left. Quickly. Too quickly.
Elena stood on the porch, heart pounding, the morning air biting at her skin.
She didn't understand everything. But she understood enough to know one thing:
Whatever truth waited at that cabin, Andrew feared it as much as she did.
And maybe more.