Where He Waited

Aimey stepped out into the sunshine and paused.

The morning air was sharp but inviting. The sky, a flawless blue dome, stretched above her as the sun warmed her face. For the first time in weeks, she didn’t feel the weight. Not entirely. Not yet. But she could pretend.

She crossed the cracked asphalt lot behind the diner, boots crunching on loose gravel. The old place buzzed behind her- clinking coffee mugs, murmurs of regulars, the occasional burst of laughter. That was Sara's diner, her refuge since the accident.

She hadn’t planned to stay in this town. She hadn't planned much of anything since Justin died. The map had taken her as far as the highway allowed, but when the old sedan coughed its last breath just outside Fairmont, she surrendered. The town took her in with a kind of quiet indifference, which was exactly what she needed.

Sara gave her a job.

"You got hands, you got a job," Sara had said. "Don’t worry about the rest for now."

And for months, Aimey floated through the routine- coffee, pancakes, dishwater, pie, small talk, sleep. It was enough to keep her from drowning.

But now something was shifting.

The package arrived a week ago. No return address. A simple cardboard box with her name scrawled on it — but the handwriting. That was the thing. It looked like Justin’s. Not exactly. But close enough that her chest tightened.

Inside- one photograph, one key, one note.

The photograph showed a small cabin by a lake she didn’t recognize. The key was unmarked, old brass, cool to the touch. The note was brief-

"Come finish what we started. Trust me."

No signature. No explanation. Just that strange, loaded invitation.

Aimey had turned the note over a dozen times, half-convinced it was some kind of sick prank. She even called the few old friends they still shared. No one knew anything. Or claimed not to.

And yet.

She made the drive anyway.

Two hours north, where paved roads surrendered to dirt tracks, where cell signal bled thin. She parked when the sedan began to groan on the rutted path, walked the last mile with the key clenched in her pocket. The forest swallowed sound. The only noise was her own breath.

The cabin appeared exactly like the photo. Exactly. Too exactly. That detail gnawed at her. Who sent this? How did they know she’d come? Was someone watching her even now?

The door was locked. She hesitated before fitting the key into the old brass lock. Part of her still expecting the whole thing to be a setup — some cruel joke, or worse.

The key turned easily.

Inside, the cabin smelled of old pine and cold air. Dust floated in heavy beams of light. A single envelope waited on the table, this time marked only with her initials.

Aimey,

If you’re reading this, then you made it. Good. I couldn’t risk telling you more before. You deserve to know the truth.

The accident wasn’t an accident. I got in with people I shouldn’t have. They came after me. I tried to protect you, but it backfired. The fire was meant to scare me. It spiraled out of control. I had to disappear. I left this for you, hoping you’d find it when it was finally safe.

I’m nearby. I’ll find you tonight.

— Justin.

She read it twice. Three times. The familiar cadence of his words. But was it his? Was it really? After all this time, how could she be sure?

Her thoughts spiraled- If he’s alive, where has he been? If this is real, why now? If this is a trap, who’s behind it?

And why the elaborate breadcrumb trail? If he wanted to see her — truly — wouldn’t he have just called?

The sun sank lower. The lake grew dark and glassy. The silence pressed in around her. She waited.

When the knock finally came, her whole body jolted. She rose stiffly and opened the door.

He stood there.

Justin. Or someone who looked like him. Thinner. Beard grown. Eyes deeply lined.

They stared. His face broke into a tentative smile.

“Hi, Aimey.”

Her pulse hammered. The relief wasn’t clean. It tangled with doubt. “You son of a bitch.”

He let out a weak chuckle. “Yeah. I probably deserve that.”

She stepped forward, let him hold her. His warmth was real. His scent familiar. But even as her arms wrapped around him, a cold, quiet part of her stayed watchful.

Was he really alone?

"You better explain everything," she whispered into his shoulder.

"I will. I promise. But first, let’s get inside."

They spent the night talking by lamplight. Justin unraveled everything- the debt, the threats, the fire, the years of hiding, the quiet network that had helped him stay invisible until the danger passed.

By dawn, they sat quietly, hands entwined on the rough wooden table.

The first rays of morning lit the room. Aimey rose and stepped out into the sunshine once more, this time with no weight on her shoulders. Only light.

But the morning calm didn’t last.

An engine growled in the distance. Aimey's ears perked. Justin stiffened beside her. She turned and saw dust rising beyond the trees, a black SUV barreling toward the cabin.

"Is it them?" she asked, voice tight.

Justin's jaw clenched. "They shouldn't know I'm here. But just in case — we need to move. Now."

He grabbed the go-bag he had stashed under the cot and pulled Aimey into the trees behind the cabin. They ran, branches slapping at their faces. The SUV screeched to a halt outside the cabin. Doors slammed. Voices barked orders.

"Search it! They can't be far!"

Aimey's pulse pounded. Justin led them down a narrow deer trail toward an old canoe hidden by thick brush. He shoved it into the water, helped Aimey climb in, and pushed off.

They paddled hard, cutting across the mirror-like surface of the lake. Shouts echoed behind them. Gunshots cracked through the morning air, sending splashes nearby.

"Faster!" Justin urged.

By the time they reached the far shore, the forest swallowed them again. Hours later, breathless and dirty, they emerged onto a gravel road where an old pickup waited.

"Friend of mine," Justin said simply.

The driver tipped his cap. "You folks need a ride?"

Aimey slid into the cab, heart still racing. As they drove away, she looked back one last time at the distant shimmer of the lake, the sun climbing higher behind them.

"We're not done running, are we?" she asked.

Justin shook his head. "Not yet. But we're together now. That counts for something."

And as the truck rolled on, Aimey finally allowed herself a small, defiant smile. She had stepped into the sunshine. She wasn’t going back into the dark.