Page 83 of Into the Dark, We Go
Nick and I spent hours in the house, poring over articles and old forums on our laptops. The legend, however, seemed frustratingly local. Neither of us could find anything even remotely similar to it.
"It’s like it was made up," I said, exasperated.
"Most stuff is," Nick replied.
When we worked,Nick remained focused and composed, fully absorbed in whatever he was reading. But when we could, we would sneak out to fool around.
"Seriously, guys, no more going out after dark," Mitchell admonished, his tone that of a scolding father. "I thought we agreed you’d be doing the research."
"We were just driving around," I said. Being trapped in the cabin had begun to feel oppressive, even with our separate spaces to escape to.
"Find anything?" Mitch asked.
"Nope," Nick said, offering nothing more.
What we eventually found was a good spot to park the car, though maneuvering in the front seats proved tricky. But we managed.
I felt infinitely guilty about our hidden rendezvous with Nick, yet I couldn’t bring myself to end it. It had become my little refuge of intimacy.
And to be fair, I was enjoying it way too much—not just the sex, but being with him. Nick would drop random biology facts into conversation, always in some quirky context, and somehow he made even the dorkiest comments seem hot. And most importantly, he made me feel seen, like I mattered—the first time in years.
But was I losing myself in this hookup? Was it even a hookup anymore?
Whatever it was between Nick and me, it was gentle. There was something about his presence that calmed me, quieted all the voices in my head—Lucas’s, my mother’s, my own. At times, the experience felt almost spiritual. It gave me, more than anything else, peace.
But I didn’t let myself think too far in that direction. This wasn’t the time or place.
I shut down all the "what ifs" and "what happens after," because no matter how strong our connection felt, our lives were miles apart, literally and figuratively. The age gap was only four or five years, but at this stage, it felt like a canyon. He seemed grounded and established,like a real adult. I was still stumbling through the dark, trying to figure out who I was.
Meanwhile, June had grown bored and irritable. She gave me grief for not spending enough time with her and was tired of her brother’s constant supervision.
"Weren’t we supposed to be buddies?" she’d whine whenever Nick and I slipped away.
The guilt hit hard. My mother was right. I was selfish.
When June asked why we couldn’t hang out, just the two of us, I’d say, "You know why. It’s safer with Mitchell or Nick. And you don’t want to go with Nick."
It was true. But the excuse still made me feel awful.
"Yeah, well, it sucks," June retorted, arms crossed. "You’re always with Nick."
All she wanted was a friend. And I was a bad one.
The past coupleof days had been dry and warm, and my body was craving physical activity. I also yearned for some alone time, which seemed impossible in the bustling house.
The contrast between my pre-trip solitude and my current social whirlwind was jarring. I loved being around people, but it also drained me.
"Where you headed?" Mitch asked.
"Just for a jog. I won’t go far." I waved him off.
A short, mile-long trail behind the house beckoned. It had been ages since I’d last run, and my muscles ached for the release.
"Where’s Nick?" Mitch asked, scanning the living room, where June sat on the couch, glued to her phone.
"I didn’t see him."
"He went out," June said.
