Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 56278 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 281(@200wpm)___ 225(@250wpm)___ 188(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56278 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 281(@200wpm)___ 225(@250wpm)___ 188(@300wpm)
He could sleep on the couch.
I brought my toiletry kit to the bathroom, only to come to a full stop.
That wasn’t a fucking toilet. Not a normal one, anyway. I lifted the lid and huffed. It was one of those composting toilets, wasn’t it? Fucking great. Wade could forget about me emptying the tank. It was a miracle it didn’t already reek in here.
Annoyed, I took a quick tour of the cabin, and I wasn’t getting any happier. No power, no heat, no running water. A water tank sat on the floor under the kitchen counter, which needed to be refilled manually, and all the heat and light came from the fireplaces and battery-operated lanterns.
Wait. There was no shower.
How was I gonna wash up in the morning?
Oh God, what kind of hellhole was this?
No TV, of course. No music.
I was gonna die here.
One day in Alaska, and I was ready to sell the state to Canada.
The porch was frigid, but the winds didn’t reach the area. That was something. The cabin was sturdy as fuck, and the ceiling extended across the whole porch.
They’d built this place. As if they didn’t have enough skills.
I’d never make it out in the field. My “honorary” brothers and my dad all had their impressive pasts in the military, in one way or another. Me, on the other hand? I hadn’t even made it through boot camp.
I wasn’t like them. I’d be useless in a war, and I couldn’t build anything.
My dream job had been in logistics, preferably in the Army, but since I’d failed basic training, I’d floundered. I’d become a jack-of-all-boring-trades instead. Waste management, maintenance, delivery services, retail, security guard at a fuckin’ mall…
I swallowed hard and peered around for any glimpse of Wade, but no such luck.
I was so mortified.
And they wondered why I’d moved? How fun was it to show up to dinners and be the only one who couldn’t hold a job?
When I turned toward the door, I idly wondered what was under that tarp. One side of the porch was occupied by a table and four chairs, and then there was the other side. It was too large to be a grill.
I lifted the tarp, and my eyebrows, and uncovered a fucking bathtub. Was Wade serious? I pulled the cover away completely and stared at it. It was a big bathtub with one of those wood burners attached to the side.
This was how Wade got clean? By heating up water for hours and taking a bath outside?
Yup, I was gonna die here.
It was almost dark by the time I heard an engine running outside.
I’d gotten as comfortable as I could on the big couch, with four blankets, and my phone was running out of juice. I had a power bank for one full charge, and then I’d have nothing.
I’d scrolled through photos and played games…
I’d deleted some apps too.
The joys of not having a signal.
The dogs greeted Wade by barking up a storm, and I heard him talking to them.
I’d actually missed him, but it felt like a bad time to admit that.
I’d always liked him. Sometimes a little too much. Or way too much.
It was harmless.
He was the one who’d made me accept I was gay. And I’d been so relieved whenever he’d broken up with a boyfriend. They hadn’t been good enough for Wade anyway.
Last but not least, we were both involved in kink. Not the same communities, of course. That would’ve been awkward. I didn’t know if he was even part of a community.
On second thought, I wasn’t either. Not anymore. Everyone I knew in Dallas had witnessed my arrest, and I hadn’t heard from them since.
Wade climbed the steps outside and soon entered the cabin, and he glanced around before his gaze landed on me.
“We have no food,” I said.
“We have plenty of food,” he replied. His feet remained on the doormat as he reached over and set a container of something on the kitchen counter.
I scrunched my nose. Um, where was this food? Because I’d rummaged through the cupboards above the sink and counter, and I’d only found some dry goods. We couldn’t live off that every single day.
After taking off his boots and parka, he went over to the nearest window where he had a big wooden chest. He gestured for me to join him, so I pushed off all the blankets.
As I walked closer, I saw the chest was packed with more dry goods. More flour and pasta and rice and cans.
“The shed is its own freezer,” he went on. “It’ll be even colder soon. We’ve got a storm system comin’ in.”
Just great.
He closed the chest again, then pulled his hoodie over his head and walked over to the basic kitchen. “Whatever you do, don’t leave food outside,” he told me. “We have quite the population of predators, and they don’t all hibernate.”