The minute I see the house, my stomach sinks and I instantly regret taking Rowan here. Out of all the places I could have come up with, I pick the shack in the woods that no one of Rowan’s class should ever step foot in. The sun is rising, so it’s very clear to see that the house has seen better days.
“There?” Rowans asks. “That’s where we’ll be staying?”
“For a short time,” I reassure. “Dex and I are still formulating a plan.”
Rowan doesn’t complain or say another word. I steal glances at her as I pull the Jeep to the front of the house, but it’s impossible to read her. Rather than overthinking and knowing there is nothing I can do about our situation right now, I turn off the Jeep and hop out.
I walk to the back of the Jeep and begin pulling out our supplies. I scan the area and see nothing but woods and hear nothing but the occasional call of a bird and the faint ticking of the Jeep’s engine as it cools.
“Come on, I’ll give you the grand tour,” I say to Rowan as she gets out of the Jeep and joins me.
“Can’t wait,” she says, giving me a grin, but it doesn’t appear as if she’s angry.
The house blends extremely well with its surroundings. Dark wood and shingles are covered with growth, moss, and rot, testifying to the fact that man might build upon the land, but nature is quick to reclaim what is left unattended.
“Careful, that board is a bit soft,” I caution as we step up onto the porch.
Taking it slow, I avoid the second step altogether, testing the next board’s strength before settling my entire weight on the step. As we enter the dark interior, I find the air far less stale than I expected. The reasoning becomes clear when I see that windowpanes are broken, and the door doesn’t completely close behind me. Harsh weather from winters past has evidently warped the wood, and invading plant life has pushed up between floorboards and slithered through windows alike.
“I’m afraid it doesn’t look much like it did when I was last here,” I say, moving across the room to place the box of supplies on a counter.
Rowan blinks against the darkened interior. “It reminds me of a treehouse resort I stayed at in Costa Rica once. Rustic and yet sort of… cool. We can be comfortable here.”
Her positive outlook on our dump has me chuckling. “You’re a bad liar,” I say, beginning to empty the box’s contents, placing items on shelves hanging on the wall. “There’s an outhouse on the south side of the house you can use.”
“I haven’t always stayed in five-star resorts, you know,” she says, moving toward the door to leave. “I’ll have you know, I’ve even camped a few times in my life.”
While Rowan is gone, I bend down and lift up one of the floorboards, hoping that the guns my father and I stored hidden beneath the house are still there. Seeing them looking up at me as in a greeting, gives me a nostalgic warmth knowing my father’s guns are here to protect us if need be.
Rowan returns with another box of supplies in arm. She places it down on the counter, reaches into the box, and helps me pull out the cans of food and bags of rice.
“How bad was the outhouse?”
“I can make the best of any situation.” Her simple answer tells me all I need to know. It’s bad. Really bad. But Rowan is trying her damnedest to be tough and I admire her for it.
Seeing something in the corner of my eye, I grab one of the cans and slam it against the countertop.
Rowan screams and jumps at least a foot as the loud crack resonates in the room.
“What the hell!” she says, her chest heaving as she stares at me, her eyes big as saucers.
I lift the can to reveal the squashed carcass of a spider, hairy legs still twitching in its death throes. “Dinner?”
“Oh, God, that’s… that’s just gross!”
I laugh as she shudders and tosses me a roll of paper towels. “I thought you could make the best of any situation?”
“Except with spiders. I don’t do spiders.”
I laugh again, cleaning up the mess as her eyes dart around the room as if waiting for the spider’s friends to come calling. “We’ve entered their domain,” I tease with a grin.
Rowan returns her attention to me. “I assumed you were a city boy. I can’t imagine you and your father spending time out here. I mean, rustic is one thing, but this is just the bare basics.”
“It was nice to get away from the city once in a while. It wasn’t often, but sometimes my dad seemed to need a break from it all. Roughing it helped keep us humble in all the glitz and glamor of The Whitney.”