The Shuddering

whim, called up the Realtor because I was feeling nostalgic. Someone’s already bought it.”
    Sawyer stopped where he was, blinking at his best friend. “So, what, is it empty inside?”
    “Everything’s still there. They’re waiting to close the deal—but once they do…”
    “So, wait a minute…we’re, like, staying in somebody’s house right now?”
    “Technically, no.”
    “ Technically? Dude.”
    “Don’t say anything,” Ryan warned. “If Jane finds out…”
    “If Jane finds out she’ll fucking flip. Maybe this isn’t a good idea. What if someone shows up to look at the place? Maybe we should get a hotel or something, play it safe.”
    “A hotel? You mean a motel —one of those roach-infested ones. You don’t think Jane will flip out there ?”
    “Maybe, but imagine her in a jail cell.”
    “Nobody’s going to jail,” Ryan assured him. “Besides, it’s an honest misunderstanding. The dick didn’t bother to tell me, and I still have a set of keys. How was I supposed to know?”
    Sawyer considered the plausibility of Ryan’s story, then raised his shoulders in a shrug. “It’s your ass, not mine.”
    “We’re a million miles from anywhere,” Ryan said. “It’s just us and the trees. Nobody will know, because nobody knows we’re here.”



CHAPTER THREE
    T he guy working the ski lift held up his hands.
    “Sorry, folks.” He tried on his best look of sympathy. “No more going up today.”
    “Oh, come on!” Jake shoved the sleeve of his jacket up his forearm, checking the time. “It’s two minutes till four, man. We’ve got sixty seconds until the cutoff.”
    Tara stood uncomfortably next to Jake, rubbing the back of her neck with a gloved hand, her eyes fixed on the board strapped to one of her feet. They were coming up on their two-year anniversary, but she still hadn’t gathered the nerve to tell him she hated snowboarding—hated everything about it, from the bitter cold to getting off and on the lift. Every minute spent standing in line to get on that confounded thing gave her an anxiety attack, because getting on the lift meant getting off, and getting off meant eating it at the top of the hill. This was only her second season, and she already knew boarding wasn’t for her. But there was something to be said for keeping up appearances, especially for a guy who was as fanatical about winter sports as Jake.
    “Hey, let’s just go to the lodge,” she suggested. “Get something to drink; I want cocoa.”
    But he wasn’t satisfied with her suggestion. They’d paid good money for their lift tickets and he was determined. “I have a better idea,” he said, pulling the glove off his right hand and shoving it into the pocket of his waterproof pants. “Here.” He held outa crumpled twenty-dollar bill. “Get yourself a beer, huh? Let us on.”
    The operator frowned at the money, hesitating, and eventually gave in with a sigh. “Fine,” he said. “But up and down, all right?”
    Jake held up his hands, as if to say the operator had his word. Tara shut her eyes, trying not to groan. She’d have done anything to get that snowboard off her feet. Her pinkie toes had gone numb inside her boots hours ago. Jake grabbed her by the elbow and slid into place, both of them craning their necks backward, waiting for the chairlift to scoop them up.
    Tara winced as the chair slammed against the backs of her thighs. The safety bar came down across their laps and she ducked into the scarf wrapped around her neck. It was cold, the sun having dipped just beyond the crest of the mountain, leaving the entire ski area in frigid shadow. And to make things worse, the slush of the day was starting to freeze into a slick of ice. She could hardly maneuver on fresh powder, let alone on hard-packed permafrost. The idea of catching the edge of her board and flying headfirst down the hill twisted her stomach into knots—but an injury wouldn’t have been so bad. It would have put her out for the rest of the season. A broken wrist almost seemed worth it.
    Jake was the first to launch off the lift. Tara always hesitated, calculating the least terrifying, least treacherous trajectory to take. But no matter how much she steeled her nerves or planned her dismount, she always ended up on her back, and this time was no different. She crashed a few seconds after shoving herself off the chairlift, clenching her teeth behind the woven wool of her scarf. At least there wasn’t another group of