Page 18 of Playing Dirty
Callie finally stretched out, blanket pulled up to her shoulders. Her eyes fluttered closed—lashes casting shadows on her cheeks.
I stayed up a while longer. Listening to the wind batter the windows and the fire settle into a slow rhythm. Finally, I pulled the spare quilt over my legs and leaned back in the chair, but sleep didn’t come easily.
Because she was five feet away.
And every part of me wanted to be closer, but I wouldn’t allow myself to cross that line.
Not tonight.
Chapter Six
Girl in The Mirror
Callie
Iwoke stiff and cold, the couch unforgiving beneath me. My neck ached, my spine protested, and the only warmth came from the dwindling fire sputtering low in the hearth.
Rhett was already up.
He moved quietly in the dim light, coaxing the fire back to life with the same quiet focus he’d had as a teenager fixing busted dirt bikes behind his uncle’s shed. No words, no need for fanfare—just a man doing what needed to be done.
Across the room, Pixie had curled into a tight little ball on the extra blanket I’d tossed into the corner last night. She glared at Rhett every so often but didn’t budge an inch. The message was clear:This interloper better know I’m not impressed.
Rhett noticed. His eyes flicked toward the cat with a small shake of his head. “Figures. Even the cat’s got opinions.”
“I don’t think she trusts you,” I muttered as I slipped off the blanket and made my way to the kitchen, the chill still settled deeply in my chest. My fingers were clumsy as I lit the campstove and started fixing oatmeal. My hands still shook from the cold, but at least I was doing something.
Rhett hadn’t said a word, but I felt him watching me. I didn’t dare meet his eyes.
“You okay?” he finally asked.
“Peachy,” I muttered.
He didn’t push. Just turned back to the fire, adding another log.
“This place should’ve been winterized,” Rhett said after a while, his voice even but edged. “Propane tanks checked. Generator tested. Hell, the heater shouldn't’ve even had a chance to fail.”
I stared into the oatmeal, slowly stirring. “I didn’t think to check. I thought he had. I thought the gas company worked on a schedule.”
“He should’ve checked before he left,” Rhett said simply.
I handed him a steaming mug of the stuff and sat down with mine, careful to avoid his gaze. “He was in a hurry when he left. Probably forgot.”
Rhett’s jaw flexed, but he didn’t answer.
I rubbed at a stain on the rim of the mug. “I figured he’d be back before the storm hit.”
“Well,” Rhett said, low and firm, “he wasn’t.”
It landed like a slap, not because it was cruel, but because it was true. The kind of truth you try not to say out loud.
The kind that made me wonder what the hell I was still doing in this cabin.
Finally, the bars blinked back onto my phone like a lifeline I wasn’t sure I wanted. I held my breath as I tapped Matt’s name.
It rang. And rang. No answer. No voicemail. Just a hollow little nothing that landed harder than I wanted it to.
I lowered the phone slowly, its weight sinking into my palm. Rhett’s voice broke the quiet.
