Chapter 2 – Silent Roads
The night stretched on endlessly. The only source of illumination came from the narrow beams of David's car headlights cutting through the inky darkness as they wound their way along a nearly deserted highway. The distant city lights had faded hours ago, and now there was only the low hum of the car's engine and the rhythmic whisper of the tires against the road.
David's hands gripped the steering wheel tightly. He hadn't said a word since they left Maddie's house. And she, in the passenger seat, hadn't given him much of a chance. Staring out the window, her face turned away from him, her silence palpable.
She hadn't wanted to come. Even now, as they drove further and further from the city, from the life that was tearing her apart, David could feel her resistance in the air between them. She was rigid, holding herself together with that same fierce determination she always had. But tonight, something was different. He could feel it.
He stole a glance at her as they rounded another curve in the road. Her profile was illuminated by the passing glow of the occasional streetlight—her face pale, her blonde hair pulled back but slightly messy, as though she hadn't bothered to fix it after the long day. Her eyes were fixed on the passing darkness outside the window, but David noticed the telltale shimmer on her cheek. A single tear.
He looked away quickly, focusing back on the road, his chest tightening. She didn't wipe it away. She just let it fall, her expression unreadable.
They had been driving in silence for a couple of hours now, neither of them willing to break the fragile peace that the quiet road offered. David knew Maddie wasn't ready to talk. Maybe she wouldn't be ready for a long time. But every time he glanced at her, that tear was there—an unspoken admission that maybe, just maybe, the cracks in her armour were starting to show.
He didn't know what to say to her or what to do. They had hurt each other, pushed each other away, only to come back, as if they couldn't bear to be apart for too long. And now, after everything—the loss, the heartbreak, the grief—he just didn't know how to reach her anymore.
Did she even wanted him to?
The moon had risen by the time they turned off the highway, the car bumping gently as the road shifted from asphalt to gravel. Tall trees lined the narrow mountain road, their branches casting eerie shadows across the path. A stark contrast to the smog and noise of the city.
David tightened his grip on the wheel as they climbed higher into the mountains. The wood cabin wasn't much farther now. He wasn't even sure why he had brought her here, except that he knew she couldn't stay at that house. His place wasn't an option either, not really. It would probably make things worse. Would a hotel somewhere have been a better choice? Too late now, anyway.
The road narrowed again and David slowed the car, guiding it down the last stretch toward the cabin. It was nestled deep in the woods, hidden away from the world. A small, simple place—nothing fancy. Just enough to be quiet. Enough to be alone.
The car finally came to a stop in front of the cabin, the headlights casting long shadows against the wooden exterior. For a moment, neither of them moved. The silence felt heavier now, pressing in on them as they sat in the car, the engine ticking softly as it cooled.
David turned the key, and the engine died, plunging them into an even deeper silence.
Maddie was the first to speak, her voice low. "What is this place? Where are we?" And then edged with mild sarcasm, the only armour she had left. "Heaven's Gate?"
David leaned back in his seat, exhaling softly. "My secret love shack in the mountains. Real classy, huh?"
Maddie finally turned to look at him, her eyes narrowing, but there was a faint glimmer of something behind them. Maybe amusement. Maybe something else. "I've gotta say, Addison, I expected more. Maybe some velvet couches, a disco ball..."
He chuckled dryly; the sound strained but familiar. "Sorry to disappoint. Only thing I've got here is a fireplace and some old blankets. A few eight-legged Rockettes to entertain. Real five-star deal."
Maddie rolled her eyes, but her lips twitched slightly, as if she couldn't quite help herself. "Oh, just great. Can't wait for the meet-and-greet."
David shrugged, undoing his seatbelt and opening his door. He stepped out of the car and walked around to her side, opening the door for her. She looked up at him, the moonlight casting a soft glow on her face, making her look more vulnerable than he had ever seen her.
Maddie's jaw clenched, her fingers tightening on the door handle as if she were contemplating slamming it shut and locking herself away again. But instead, she stepped out, her heels crunching on the gravel beneath her feet.
She crossed her arms over her chest, "So". Turning to face him fully now. "What's the plan here? Are we going to play therapists? Let The Sunshine In, get stoned in the wilderness, and suddenly I'm supposed to open up and have some big emotional breakthrough?"
David rubbed the back of his neck. "Nope". A tired smile playing on his lips. "No plan. No breakthroughs. No shrooms and doobies. Just thought you needed a place to breathe for a while."
Maddie scoffed. "Breathe?"
"Breathe. Keeps the blood pumping, endorphins flowing… it's a start."
They stood there for a moment, staring at each other in the cool mountain air.
Finally, Maddie sighed, rolling her eyes. She turned her back to him and walked toward the cabin. "Fine. Good! Let's just get this Hotel California thing over with."
David watched her go. He had no idea what the hell he was doing, bringing her up here. Maybe it had been a mistake. Maybe Maddie was right—nothing would change. But something deep inside him refused to let her drown in the grief she kept locked away.
He followed her inside, the cabin door creaking as they stepped into the small, dimly lit space. The air smelled faintly of pine and smoke, and the wooden floors creaked under their feet. There wasn't much—just a couple of worn couches, a fireplace, and a few dusty lamps. It was far from luxurious, but it was quiet.
Maddie stood in the centre of the room, her arms still crossed, looking around with an air of disinterest. "Cozy," she remarked, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
David dropped his keys onto a nearby table and shrugged out of his jacket. "It's not the Ritz, but it'll do."
She wandered over to the fireplace, her fingers trailing over the cold stone mantel. For a moment, she said nothing, her eyes distant, her thoughts elsewhere. Then, softly, she asked, "Why did you bring me here, David? Really?"
David paused, unsure of how to answer. He leaned against the wall, his hands in his pockets. "Because I didn't know what else to do. You are shutting everyone out. Shutting me out. And I figured if I could just get you away from everything for a while... maybe you'd at least talk to me."
Maddie didn't turn around. She stared into the empty fireplace, her shoulders tense. "And what if I don't want to talk to you?"
David's throat tightened. "Then I'll wait."
She exhaled slowly, finally turning to face him. "Why? Why are you doing this? Why can't you just let me be?"
David stepped toward her, closing the distance between them, his eyes searching hers. "Because neither of us are fine, Maddie."
She stared at him, her defences crumbling, the mask she had been wearing for so long finally slipping. For the first time, she didn't have a witty retort, didn't have a sarcastic quip to throw back at him. She was just... tired. Tired of pretending. Tired of fighting.
David took her hand gently, his voice soft but filled with the weight of everything he had been holding back. "Let me… let me just try. Just this once."
Maddie didn't pull away. She didn't argue. She just stood there, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. She blinked quickly, looking away, her arms tightening around herself like a shield.
David stood still, fighting the urge to reach out and hold her. But he knew Maddie. She wasn't ready. "You don't have to say anything. You don't have to explain. Just… let me be here." If she needed space, he'd give it. But if she needed him to stay, he'd be there—quietly, without fanfare, without demands.
Maddie's eyes lifted to his again, and for a second, something passed between them—a silent understanding, a shared sadness.
"Maddie…" he whispered.
Maddie let out a shaky breath, trying to regain some sense of control. But the fight was slipping away, and for once, David saw her let it go. Just a little.
She opened her mouth to speak, but the words wouldn't come. The moment stretched on, until finally Maddie broke the silence, her voice barely a whisper. "I'm… I'm just… I… I don't…—"
"I know," David said quietly. "I know." He gave her a small, almost imperceptible nod. It's okay, his eyes said. I'm here.
And for Maddie, that was enough.