The Cabin

✨ Chapter Five

I don't have any experience with animals, and I'm pretty sure it shows. Owen and I stand in the garage, armed with our brooms like a couple of idiots about to charge into battle. This plan is going to work, right? It has to.

"On the count of three," I say.

"No!" Owen's already freaking out. It's hilarious. "I'm so fucking scared, Julian."

I bite my lip to keep from laughing. "Owen... Just do it."

"...Okay."

"Ready?"

"...No."

I can't help it—I laugh. So does Owen, but his brows stay furrowed in that worried little way they do when he's overthinking something. His soft, light brown hair falls forward slightly over his forehead. His bottom lip is red from where he's been chewing on it, and his cheeks? Still pink. I swear, everything makes him blush. It's like he hasn't stopped blushing since he got here.

He's pretty.

I grin.

"On the count of three..."

Owen grips his broom so hard his knuckles go white. He looks good in my old high school hoodie. Ever since he showed up at the cabin—what, two hours ago?—I don't think I've stopped smiling. Not even once.

He's adorable. The kind of adorable that makes my heart race, the kind that makes everything feel fun again.

The cabin felt completely different when I was here alone. With Owen, it's night and day. He's like a light flickering on in the dark, a sudden unexpected laugh that makes you forget you were crying. He's that bit of reckless curiosity that reminds you how it felt to be a kid before life got complicated.

I want to show him everything I worked on here. I want to show him the whole place, the lake, the roof I need help fixing. I want to do all of it with him.

Shit.

I realize I've been staring into his eyes way too long. How long have we just been standing here like this?! I'm supposed to be leading this entire mission, and instead, I'm getting lost in his face.

"One..."

Owen's eyes widen, still locked onto mine. His eyes are so damn pretty.

"Three."

Owen's mouth drops open.

"Julian! What the fuck! Now you can't count to three?!"

I burst out laughing, charging up the side of the garage with my broom raised like some medieval knight while Owen panics and scrambles to do the same. We bang our brooms against the walls, making as much noise as possible, trying to scare something out through the open side door.

And then—movement.

Something rustles violently under the furniture we pushed aside, bolting toward Owen's side of the garage.

"Oh my God, Julian...! It's coming right for me!"

Owen's bouncing in place, torn between running for his life and standing his ground. The rustling gets closer.

"It's targeting me! Julian! What if it's a goddamn coyote?!"

I double over laughing. My stomach hurts from how much I've already laughed today.

"Relax," I manage to say between wheezes. "Hit your broom against something—scare it."

Owen just stands there, hyperventilating.