The Cabin

🎬 Prologue

I sit in my car and wait.

Owen said he'd be back in ten minutes. It's been thirty-seven. I know because I've been staring at the digital clock the entire damn time, watching the minutes tick by like a slow, painful death.

He's not any of the people walking out of the Home Depot, and he's not anywhere near the windows inside.

He's also not answering his phone, and I'm starting to get seriously pissed.

Owen Miller is my new neighbor. He moved back in with his mom after her MS diagnosis to take care of her. I don't know much about MS, but I'm learning, and it sucks. Mrs. Miller is in a wheelchair now, and it feels like her body is betraying her a little more every time I see her.

My mom volunteered me to help, which means for the last few months, I've been over there twice a week, making their house more wheelchair accessible.

We were supposed to swing by here real quick because Owen forgot to get the materials like he was supposed to. We needed them today to finish building the ramps.

Something about picking up a double shift at the hospital where he works as a nursing assistant.

I don't really get what a double shift is, but apparently, hospital workers do this thing where they work two shifts back-to-back from morning to night. Owen worked twelve hours yesterday—from ten in the morning to ten at night.

He never complains about it.

I think that's weird.

Because, personally, working that much sounds like a special level of hell.

I'd never do it. I don't care how sick people are or how badly the hospital needs me. Maybe that's why I'd make a terrible nurse.

I work in cybersecurity for a digital bank. Half the week, I work from my bedroom, and that's intentional. I don't have to deal with people, and I get paid really well for it. It's the perfect job for me. I love it, and I'm good at it.

So anyway, that's why Owen had to go inside alone while I waited in the car—partly because he was supposed to have gotten the materials already, and partly because I don't do well in crowded stores with fluorescent lighting and unnecessary small talk.

Owen's been bothering me since we met a few months ago, showing up at my door for every little reason.

I have never been friendly, inviting, sweet, or anything that should make him think I'm someone worth hanging out with.

I'm not exaggerating. I'm not being dramatic. I am an asshole.

After the breakup with my ex, Ethan, and losing all my friends in the process, all I wanted was to push people away.

So why the hell won't Owen leave me alone?

Another five minutes pass before I finally see him. He walks out through the automated double doors, pushing a cart full of wood, drinking a Mountain Dew, and smiling like he doesn't have a single regret.

He definitely got distracted in there.

I already know that's why he took so long.

I wonder what it was this time. Owen is going to be the death of me.

"Ten minutes?" I ask, still sitting in the driver's seat with the window down as he walks up.

"It wasn't that much longer," he says, like I'm the one being unreasonable. "And you didn't come in to help me, so I struggled. Hope you feel good about that. Almost crushed my damn foot trying to get the last piece of wood onto the cart. Some hot, tatted-up guy in a tank top saw me struggling and just walked away. No chivalry left in the world. Then the cashier straight-up rolled his eyes at me when I smiled and asked for help getting this stuff outside. Like, excuse me? I am a customer in distress. And I am cute. Where is the hospitality?"