I pass the lodge, the barn, the garage, until I’m edging through dense forest. My heart races when I spy the silvery glint of an old Airstream. Letting my truck idle, I exit and climb the rickety steps to face the door. Around me, the wind howls. I lift my hand. An almost-knock. A goodbye to the blue-eyed devil inside sleeping the sleep of a beautiful idiot. I rest my hand on the door. The icy kiss of metal bites into my palm. I bite my lip. Tonight, I’m young and stupid. Sixteen. I’m that girl with posters of Wyatt Montgomery above her bed. I pull the second envelope from my back pocket.
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