The Quite Ridge

Chapter 22- Sadie

Here’s that last section fixed that way:

I stared at my phone longer than I needed to. His name was already open, the message box empty. All I had to do was type my address. Simple. That’s all it was. Still, my fingers didn’t move right away. The cabin felt too quiet again, the same silence from last night, heavier now that I knew what it could turn into. It pressed in from every direction, like the walls had moved closer without actually shifting.

I moved toward the window without thinking, pulling the curtain back just enough to look out. Nothing. Just trees. Dark shapes against darker sky. Still. Unmoving. Too still. I let the curtain fall back into place and turned away, forcing myself to breathe evenly. This was stupid. It was just a ride. Just a bonfire. Just people. Not a big deal. Still, my chest didn’t feel convinced.

I walked back toward the counter, picking up my phone again, my thumb hovering over the screen. If I waited any longer, I wasn’t going to do it. I knew that. So before I could talk myself out of it again, I typed:

214 Pine Hollow Road.

I stared at it for half a second, then hit send.

The reply came back almost immediately:

Be there in ten.

My breath shifted slightly. No hesitation. No questions. Just decided. Something about that settled and unsettled me at the same time, like he didn’t need anything else, like it was already handled. I set my phone down for a second, pressing my palm against the counter, grounding myself again.

Then it buzzed.

Unknown number.

Everything in me tightened instantly. The shift was immediate. Cold. Sharp. Familiar in a way I hated. I didn’t open it. I didn’t want to. But I didn’t move either.

Another message came through:

You always disappear like this.

My stomach dropped. My grip tightened around the phone as I picked it up anyway.

Another one:

Run first. Think later.

My breathing slowed in that wrong way, too controlled, too aware of every inhale, every exhale, like my body was bracing for something I couldn’t see.

Then—

You’re not as far as you think you are.

My chest tightened hard, because that felt too close. Not exact. Not certain. But close enough.

Another message:

I’ll find you.

My heart kicked hard in my chest, sharp and fast, my pulse echoing in my ears. I stepped back without meaning to, my eyes moving through the room again, toward the corners, the door, the windows. Nothing had changed. Everything looked the same. But it didn’t feel the same. It felt watched. It felt close. It felt like he didn’t need to know where I was to still be there somehow.

Then headlights cut across the window. Bright. Sudden. Real. I froze. The light moved across the wall, across the floor, breaking the darkness in a way nothing else had all night. My breath caught as it shifted, then faded as the engine outside cut off. Silence again, but different now. Grounded. Real.

Rhett.

A second later, a knock hit the door. Firm. Certain. Not rushed. Not hesitant. The sound cut through everything else. I moved toward it faster than I meant to, my hand tightening around the handle before I unlocked it. For a second, I just stood there. Then I opened it.

And there he was.

Closer than before. Real in a way the messages weren’t. The night air moved past him, cool and steady, carrying the faint smell of smoke and something clean, something grounded. It hit me immediately. Something in my chest shifted. His eyes went straight to mine. Steady. Focused. Not distracted. Like nothing else existed for that second.

“You ready?” he asked.

Simple. But softer this time. Not just a question. A check.

I nodded. “Yeah.”

My voice came out quieter than I meant it to. He didn’t move right away. His gaze held mine for a second longer, like he was reading something without asking for it, like he already knew enough not to push. Then he stepped back, giving me space.

“After you,” he said.

Gentle. Easy. Like it wasn’t a big deal. But it was.

I stepped past him, close enough to feel it again—that shift in the air between us. Stronger now. Harder to ignore. My shoulder brushed the space just near his, not quite touching, but close enough to notice. I locked the door behind me, my fingers moving automatically, my mind still catching up to everything happening too fast and too slow at the same time. He waited. Didn’t rush. Didn’t say anything else. Just walked beside me toward the truck.

And for the first time since the messages started, I didn’t feel like I was walking into the dark alone.