Page 16 of DFF: Delicate Freakin' Flower

“What,” he said, voice like gravel and death threats.

“There’s something in here. It fell. From theceiling.It’s gotknees,Webb.”

He blinked.

I pointed frantically. “It’s planning something.”

He sighed the deepest, most put-upon sigh I’d ever heard and grabbed a boot from the corner of the room. He didn’t even ask where it was, he just followed the faint scuttling sound, wound up like a man who’d done this fifty times before. The heavy bang, which I swear had a squishing noise due to the size of the rodent spider, signaled that my problems were over.

“God,” I breathed, hand to my chest. “Thank you. You have no idea how close I was to setting the whole cabin on fire just to be safe.”

He tossed the boot back in the corner. “Then I’m glad I got here first.”

I stood there awkwardly for a second, suddenly very aware that I was wearing a long t-shirt, aloe-slicked skin, and the aura of someone who’d just lost a war.

“Okay,” I waved toward my bedroom. “Back to pretending I’m brave.”

He started to close the door to his room, but I heard a muffled, “Goodnight, you little menace.”

I climbed back into bed, pulled the quilt up to my chin, and whispered into the dark, “Goodnight, Spider Slayer.”

And for the first time since this nightmare started, I actually fell asleep.

Chapter Seven

Webb

Iwas already outside, chopping wood like it owed me money, when I heard the cabin door slam open behind me.

It was early, just past sunrise, and the air still had that hint of coolness to it that would be gone by the time the sun reached full strength. I liked mornings out here. They were quiet and simple. Then again, everything made sense when you were swinging an axe.

Or at least ithad been quiet. Just then, Gabby exploded out the front door like she’d just realized she was late for a meeting — barefoot, hair everywhere, wearing a t-shirt two sizes too big, and moving with the frantic energy of someone who’d just remembered she hadn’t peed in eight hours.

She spotted me near the woodpile, eyes wide and wild.

“Where’s the—” she gasped, waving one hand in a panicked circle.

I pointed with the axe toward the trees. “Back that way. It's the little stall with a half-moon on the door. Can’t miss it because it's the only one here.”

She didn’t wait for more detail, just took off like a shot, her arms pumping as she muttered something about organs shutting down and bladders not being loyal.

I went back to chopping, trying not to laugh, until I heard the wooden door creak open and then slam shut behind her.

I raised my voice, calling out just loud enough for it to carry. “Watch out for the spiders!” I left it a beat, then added, “And toilet snakes.”

A muffled shriek came from the stall.

I couldn’t help it, it was just too amusing a situation not to wind her up, especially after last night. I let the axe rest and leaned on the handle, chuckling like a damn idiot.

It wasn’t that I enjoyed scaring her. Okay, maybe it was alittle that. I had brothers, it was what we did best. But mostly, it was the fact that she kept surprising me in all the best, worst, and most—what I'd come to learn—Gabby ways.

Last night, she’d marched through heatstroke and lies and spider-induced panic like a disaster magnet in lipstick and borrowed boots. And now she was facing her greatest enemy: the rustic toilet.

“Welcome to the cabin, you little menace.”

I’d already checked the outhouse for anything beasty, so I knew she was okay. I was going to have to remind her not to walk around barefoot outside, though.

The stall door slammed open with enough force to scare off half the local wildlife. A beat later, Gabby stormed back into view, barefoot, wild-haired, and visibly rethinking every decision that had led her to this moment. The red wig was thankfully gone, and her real hair was sticking to her face in sweat-damp strands. She looked half-feral and entirely offended by life.

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