Going Full Throttle

Chapter 2

Three Months Later...

A blaring alarm startled me awake just as my dream was getting good. I blindly smacked around on my bedside table until my hand made contact with the top of the alarm clock.

Sighing back into my pillow, I tried to focus on where my dream had been. Maybe if I fell asleep thinking about it, I'd be able to pick up right where Chris Hemsworth and I left off.

My heavy eyes were just slipping closed as I remembered that I'd set that alarm for a reason. With a pained groan, I sat up and shoved the blankets down to stand up. The chilly hardwood under my feet was like a cold shower for my brain. I shook the last remaining fuzz from the dream out of my mind and went into the hall.

I went into the kitchen and hit the button to start the coffee pot. I'd learned about a month ago to set it up the night before. There had been too many mornings where my water to grounds ratio was way off because I couldn't count properly when I was tired.

Once I was sure that the drip had started, I went back down the hallway to the small bathroom. The green tile that covered the floor and the dark wood of the vanity was a testament to how old this place was. Both were probably brand new somewhere around the 70s.

I got in the shower but turned the head away from me while I fiddled with the taps. The old pipes always shot out ice water for about a minute, and you did not want to find yourself under that stream first thing in the morning.

This cabin was filled with quirks like that. The back door popped open if you didn't drop the latch, the stairs squeaked, the element on the stove shot sparks every once in a while, and the shag carpet was prone to trip you if you didn't lift your feet high enough. Even with all of that, though, it was my happy place.

My family had owned this cabin for two generations now, first, my grandfather's—then my father's. I guess it wasn't technically mine yet, but my dad had gruffly given me the keys once he found out what I'd done. They were too busy travelling across Canada this summer anyway to use it. So at least for now, this was home.

Once the water was finally hot, I jumped under the stream and went through my morning routine quickly. I didn't have much time to bask in the hot water, mostly because I was running late. There was also a very small window of time where I could ensure the water would stay hot. Anything past fifteen minutes, and you were playing with fire—or more accurately, ice.

Within ten minutes, I was out of the shower, dried off, and throwing my hair into a messy bun. I shivered as I crossed the hall in a towel and went back into my bedroom.

I dug around in my dresser in search of my favourite scrubs. The muted navy set was much less embarrassing than the flashy floral pair my mom had bought me as a gift. At first, I hadn't really cared which pair I wore to work, but one ill-fated trip to the grocery store in the flowery pair was enough to scar me. I kept meaning to buy a few more plain sets, but other expenses always seemed to crop up.

Checking the time, I picked up my pace and ran up the stairs to the second bedroom. The cabin wasn't sophisticated enough to have a master bedroom, but this was the larger of the two. When we had moved in I considered taking it, but I couldn't imagine not staying in the same room I'd grown up in. Plus, I had a horrible dream of a bear breaking in through the backdoor and decided I had better be the first line of defence.

"Finn," I said softly as I creaked open the door. "Hey, Kid, it's time to get up." I tiptoed across the room and smiled at him as his eyes blinked open.

"Aunty, I'm tiwed."

"I know, but you aren't going far. You can even stay in your jammies if you want?" I rubbed my hand in his hair, trying to gently keep him awake.