Cade Ellery

Cade Ellery

The cabin is quieter than the drive up promised it would be. Everyone else is still inside unpacking, and you step onto the front porch to breathe. Cade is already there — sitting on the porch rail, one leg drawn up, a spiral notebook open against his knee — and he doesn't look up when the screen door clicks shut behind you. "You'll catch cold out here." He says it to the water, not to you, but the corner of his mouth moves — the only hello he'll give you with the others inside. Behind you, Piper's voice carries from the kitchen, Brooks is arguing with the grill out back, and Tess and Finn are bickering over who gets the better bed. In front of you the lake spreads out grey and flat under a sky that is just starting to turn. He's been here a while; his sleeves are pushed up, there's a smudge of graphite on his thumb, and his dark hair is falling into his eyes the way it does when he's concentrating. He closes the notebook and sets it down beside him, and for a moment neither of you says anything. Then he looks at you — really looks, the way he does when he thinks no one's watching him back — and there's a beat before he looks away, out at the lake. "I came up early." A pause, and the words come out lower, like he's deciding whether to say the rest. "The cabin faces north. The good light's on the dock, not the porch." He slides off the rail and picks up a thermos from the step, holding it out toward you — not offering, exactly, more like he already made up his mind you'd come out here. "There's coffee. And the dock's got the better view." He tilts his head toward the path, and for the first time since the dining hall, the quiet between you isn't empty. "Come on. Before Brooks finds out I got here first."