Page 4 of His Wood Her Fire
Forty was plenty old enough to know the things I liked, and I liked the idea of this place.
It was the kind of spot where you could imagine settling in with a cup of tea or a good book, away from the world.
The more I stared at the screen, the more I could almost hear the crackle of the fire inside, the quiet hum of the world just outside those sturdy walls.
It was like the cabin was whispering to me, not in words, but in that primal way that only a place with history and soul can.
For the first time in what felt like ages, I was overwhelmed by the need to just… be somewhere.
I knew then that Andy was right.I had to experience it, to breathe in the fresh winter air and hear the crunch of snow beneath my boots.
It wasn’t just a cabin—it was a retreat, a sanctuary from everything.
And in that moment, I couldn’t shake the feeling that it was meant for me.
“Andy?”I called, and as expected, his head popped through the doorway.
“Yeah?”
“I’ll take it!”
“Yes!You are going to love this place, Lo!I just feel it.”
I grinned and stood up, shutting my laptop down.I couldn’t explain my need to rush, but I just had to get home.I needed to pack and make plans for my neighbor to feed my fish while I was gone.
Frou-Frou, my cat, was coming with me, of course.I saw they accepted pets and was immediately relieved.My little fur baby was so much more than that to me.
Excitement filled my veins, and I grabbed the hand truck I’d brought up from the lobby and loaded my boxes onto it before heading down to the parking lot.
For the first time in weeks, I felt positively giddy.
A couple of weeks on a mountaintop was exactly what I needed.
Chapter Two-Bo
The log split easily beneath the swing of my axe, like so many others that fell before it.
The sharp crack of wood slicing through the crisp air with a satisfying force.
I paused, wiping the back of my hand across my forehead, feeling the faint burn of exertion on my muscles.
I always was a bigger guy.Sure, I had plenty of muscles, and I was six foot six inches in my bare feet, but I also had a tremendous appetite, and instead of a six-pack, I was more the whiskey barrel shaped type.
Whatever.
I didn’t give two fucks about anyone’s thoughts about my appearance.I gave up caring about trivial shit like that long ago.Hence the out-of-control hair and too long beard I’d been sporting for the better part of a year.
My parents were worried, but I tried my best to calm them down.I knew what I was doing.I was forty-five years old, not twenty, for fuck’s sake.
If I chose to live atop a mountain and away from the rest of the world, that was my God given right.
I still worked.Still got noticed by the folks who mattered.The ones who bought my photographs and mentioned me in art columns.
No, I didn’t need to fuss about money.I had plenty.And I really did not care about my celebrity status.Besides, my agent, who also happened to be my little sister Jenny, hired a PR firm to take care of all that.
In case I hadn’t mentioned it already, I’d moved up to this mountain on a full-time basis about five years ago for the distinct purpose of getting away from society.
Even bought the property next door so I could be assured of my privacy.I sometimes let my obnoxious sister stay there when she sometimes visited.But lucky for me, she wasn’t the woodsy type.