Two Weeks of Sin

“Don’t you dare,” I say. Something about my tone sinks in, because Lacey lets it go.

“So when do I get to see the famous hermit cabin?” she says. “Hugh, I’m assuming you’re the fighter that she came out here looking for. What does that make you, Sam? Like, a treasure hunter?”

“It makes me bored with this conversation. Hugh, let’s get out of here. We’ve got to work on the story.”

Lacey wipes her mouth daintily with a napkin. “I can’t wait. I’ll ride with you two.”

“That’s fine,” says Hugh, and I can’t help but wonder what he’s thinking. Is he into her? Is everything we’ve done just a fling for him? I mean, I knew--we both knew--that it wouldn’t last forever, I think, but is he discarding me in front of me?

Soon we’re headed back to the cabin with Lacey chattering a mile a minute. She thinks there are too many trees. She’s worried about mosquitos. Does Hugh have any sunscreen? How does he make sure he never gets lost? How often does he take women back to his “lair?” What’s the tallest tree in the world? She has also recently heard on a podcast that trees can talk to each other and she seems legitimately anxious that they might all be gossiping about her.

Hugh takes this all in stride. He doesn’t say much, but he responds when she talks to him, gives me nudges with his elbow when she really gets going, and it all seems fine. Normal enough. But I can’t shake the feeling that something is wrong.

When we get to the cabin she screams her head off and races around, saying it’s the most perfect place she has ever seen.

By the time Hugh locks the door behind us she has already found the wine and poured three glasses. “Don’t worry,” she says, “I’ll be entertaining enough to pay you back for the wine.”

I bet you’d like that I think, feeling petty and jealous, though nothing has really happened yet.

I take Lacey up to my room--I’m already thinking of it as my room--when she says she has to pee. As soon as we’re up there she closes the door and locks it. “So what’s going on?” she hisses. “Are you two fucking? Oh my God, he’s so hot, and I think he looks really familiar? Who do you think he reminds me of? I can’t figure it out. He’s so hot! You’re so lucky!”

I’m obviously not responding the way she thinks I should, because she suddenly sits back, crosses her arms, and says, “Do I smell bad or something? Why are you making that face? You are totally weirding me out, are you mad I came?”

“No, it’s just...we’ve been doing so well that I--”

“And now what? It’s all ruined because I’m here? I just wanted a little break. I mean, it’s not like I expected you to get me a trophy for flying out to surprise you, but I thought you might enjoy it. I didn’t know I was getting between you and the love of your life!”

“He’s not the love of my life.”

“Why can’t you just be happy? You said you wanted a guy. You needed a new boyfriend after Owen. At least you got to come out here and bang this hottie. Are you saying it might turn into more?”

I’m not sure where the anger comes from, but I want to say whatever I can to shut her up right now.

“I’m just here to do a story and that’s that! You think some lumberjack can turn my head just because some fucking coin collector cheated on me? I’m finishing the story and I’m out of here. Case closed!”

My voice has gotten so much louder than I meant it too. That’s when I notice the shadow under the door. Two shadows, cast by Hugh’s feet. Now they’re moving away slowly.

He obviously heard everything I just said. Fuck.

CHAPTER TWENTY : HUGH MADDOX

Lacey is a fucking trip. Gorgeous, probably fun for a night or two, but a fucking trip and a headcase. I would be bored with her within a week. Sam was so much more my speed. And I thought I was hers.

Then I decided to take coffee up to surprise them and I find myself eavesdropping on a conversation that I never should have heard.

But this is my fucking house. I have told Sam things about myself that I barely even admit to myself. And she tells her friend that I’m basically nothing to her? That I’m just some story?

My first inclination is to knock the door down, kick them both out, and tell Sam that if she ever prints one word about me or my whereabouts that I will sue her ass for slander.

I feel more let down than I do angry, though. I can’t believe my ears. Maybe I’m being overly sensitive. Maybe she’s having a bad day or Lacey is bringing out the worst in her. I don’t know. But I do know that I wasn’t going to stick around for the rest of the conversation. I went out b

ack and started hitting the bag.

Eventually, maybe five rounds in, Sam stepped out onto the deck.

“Are you okay?” she says.

Wham. “Why shouldn’t I be?”