Page 94 of Drowning in Darkness

“I believe the saying is elephant.”

“Irrelevant. The giraffe is just as hard to ignore, and I’ve always preferred them.”

Fair point. “Okay, what is this giraffe representing? You have until we reach the lodge to get your questions in.”

“Or what?”

Brat. Fuck me. “Stephanie,” I drawl.

“Fine. You just kissed me.”

“That’s a statement of fact, not a question.”

“Why?”

“Because I needed him not to entertain the notion that you might be available.”

“Aren’t I? Because if that’s not the case, then I seem to have fallen into a situationship without my knowledge, and I need you to back up a second so I can catch up.”

I side-eye her for a moment, finding her smirking in victory as she runs circles around me without thought. “You need to not attract attention.”

“A quiet rejection was the best way. Kissing your supposed sister against the side of your truck like you were staking your claim had the exact opposite effect.”

“I disagree. He knows not to come near you.”

“You’ve made us the talk of the town. We’re siblings who make out in the middle of the day for everyone to see.”

“Everyone needs to get a life.”

“Small town gossip is dangerous. You need to undo whatever mess you made by removing me as your sister.”

“I couldn’t give a shit what people think.”

She sighs. “Neither could I, but I’m going crazy trapped on this mountain.”

“You aren’t trapped.”

“No, just signed, sealed, and delivered for my own protection. And where has that gotten us so far?”

“You’re acting like it’s been months instead of days.”

“It feels that way.”

We fall silent as I roll up to the lodge. The snow is falling a little heavier than before. I glance at the sky. I need to check the forecast again. Things can shift so fast up here. You have to be prepared for anything, including getting trapped for weeks. I’m not sure how I feel about that with Stephanie being here, since it normally doesn’t bother me. I get why she is averse to the containment, but she has to recognize it’s for her own good. Christopher isn’t your run-of-the-mill stalker obsessed with an off-limits woman. He’s a predator, a man with deep pockets and a sick appetite for pain.

I grip the steering wheel so hard my shoulders ache. How can I explain it to her? Get her to fully understand?

“Don’t do that,” she whispers, breaking me out of my tumbling thoughts.

My head snaps to her. “Do what?”

“Don’t treat me like a stupid little girl who’s trying to get her own way.”

I frown. “When did I treat you like a little girl?”

She laughs, but it’s cold. “I note you didn’t address the stupid.” I open my mouth to argue, and she holds her hand up, silencing me. “You kiss me like a woman, then make plans in your head like I have no say, no choices, no freedom. I’m not the woman who dies in the first ten minutes of the movie. I might have a heart, and I may carry my emotions more clearly than others, but I’m not running off into the woods. I’m not doing stupid shit on social media. Hell, I haven’t even looked at any of those apps since we arrived. But it doesn’t mean I’m not frustrated, and I should be allowed to show that without you starting to plot how to proverbially tie me to the bed.”

I blink, not sure what to say, especially to that last part.