“All right then. You’ll want heavy-duty gloves, thick contractor bags, bleach, maybe a shop mask. Got any ammonia?”
“No.”
“Get some. They hate the smell. Also, if they’ve been nesting, you’re gonna need a good flashlight and nerves of steel. Want me to show you where thetraps are?”
“Traps? I guess so,” I say, trying to sound tougher than I feel.
He pulls items one by one: thick rubber gloves, two kinds of masks, a big jug of industrial cleaner, and a small metal tin. “Put some of this on cotton balls. Under the porch, in the attic—wherever you think they might be sneaking in. Should drive ‘em off.”
“What about this wire cage trap? How should I use it?”
“Put the trap close to the cabin, but outside where you don’t mind a little raccoon feces. Because once the critter gets caged in it, they get scared as hell and shit all over it. Excuse my language. It’s just the truth.”
“Then, what?”
“Well, once you have it trapped, I’d find someone with a truck who can take it for a little ride miles away and let her loose.”
I nod, both grateful and slightly horrified. “Oh boy! The guy next door has atruck. He said he would help, but that feels like a big ask.”
“Good luck, miss,” he adds as I pay. “If you make it through without a hissy fit or a tetanus shot, you’ll be the talk of the town.”
Fantastic.
Back on the road, I drive toward the lake with my car full of supplies and my courage packed somewhere between the gloves and the bleach bottle. The cabin comes into view slowly as I pull into the gravel drive. There it is — a raccoon haven made of weathered wood accented by overgrown weeds baking in the morning sun.
I glance across the way at Liam’s cabin. Looks quiet and his truck is gone. The woods are silent. No sign of movement.
I park and step out, trying not to let my heartbeat echo off the trees.
“Okay,” I mutter. “Round two. Let’s trythis again.”
I grab my duffle, the gloves, a flashlight, and a towel I may or may not have stolen from the lodge. I climb the steps, slower this time, and pause at the door.
“If anyone’s in here, now’s the time to vacate,” I call out. “I’m armed with a flashlight and a very stern tone of voice.”
I open the door.
No sudden movement. No furry cannonballs. Only the stale, sour stink of animal mischief and a cabin long abandoned.
I breathe through my mouth and step inside, clicking on the flashlight even though daylight seeps through the grimy windows.
It’s disgusting. It’s overwhelming.
And it’s mine to fix.
Chapter 5
Liam
Ipull into the drive and cut the engine. The truck creaks as I shift out, my body fatigued from teaching back-to-back PE classes and running plays on the practice field. Football season’s still weeks out, but the boys are eager … or reckless. Sometimes both. I’m halfway to my porch when I spot her SUV parked across the way.
She came back.
There’s a fresh stack of trash bags by the porch rail, a box of cleaning supplies near the steps, and I swear I can smell bleach from here. I glance towardthe cabin. The door’s cracked open. No screaming, no airborne raccoons, no fire. All good signs. Still, something pulls at me to check on her.
“Montgomery?” I call as I approach, not wanting to startle her.
She steps into view, mask hanging around her neck, ponytail slightly lopsided, shirt streaked with something I don’t want to identify. Her cheeks are flushed and she’s holding a roll of heavy-duty garbage bags like a weapon.
