The next couple of days were different. Mid November had always been one of the coldest months, but this year topped every other.

Ethan and Owen spent a lot of their time talking about "guy stuff," easily leaving me out of conversations and unintentionally making me feel like a third wheel. Obviously, they had more things in common, so I tried my best to let it go and not allow my jealousies to get in the way of finally having true company. But the gap between us seemed to widen when they ventured outside to entertain themselves with snowballs fights.

I stood inside the cozy shack at the window and watched as they ran, hid and laughed like elementary kids at the playground. Ethan's softball sized snowball hit Owen smack in the face and they both hunched over in laughter. I chuckled when Ethan collapsed in the snow from sheer bliss, a smile on his face so wide the sun reflected from it.

Deciding to no longer be the third wheel and get involved, I put on my warmest clothes and stepped outside to collect some snow. Just as I was about to stand, a ball of snow hit my shoulder.

"Owen!" I yelled, finding it pointless to suppress my laugh. "Oh, you're gonna get it now." I rushed after him, aiming my misshaped snowball at him. When I threw it, he laughed and shielded himself behind a tree.

The same tree where the dark-haired girl had lay in a pool of her own blood.

"Come on." Owen smacked the tree playfully. "You gonna throw it or what?"

I was no longer in the mood to act like an oblivious, innocent child. I glanced over my shoulder at Ethan who was making his way back to the shack. Owen noticed too, because he ran to catch up with him.

Alone, out in the freezing cold with a snowball melting in my hand, a sense of gloom filled the atmosphere. Curiosity urged me to examine the tree closer. Near the bottom of the trunk, a rusty colored crust coated the bark. Shivers went down my spine.

Was that evidence of blood or am I trying to fulfill my suspicions?

I pivoted and stared at the glistening ice of the frozen lake, my eyes fixed on the spot I'd remembered the girl disappearing into. I saw it clearly, Owen standing on the ice, allowing gravity to suck the girl into her chilly resting place.

Before I knew it, my feet took me over the very spot, looking down at the snow-covered ice. Slush crunched beneath my feet and I paused as I imagined a stiff female hand breaking through the ice as a final attempt to save herself.

But there were too many pieces that didn't fit the puzzle. For instance, when first inspecting the ice with Ethan, there had been no hole and no sign of one either.

And I couldn't forget; It didn't take much effort to make things up for my own entertainment.

The rusty crust on the tree had to be nothing more than tree sap that had frozen and hardened on the bark. Although he had his moments, Owen was much too charismatic and fun to be a murderer. I had to stop letting my imagination get the best of me.

Even seeing Owen a day before the strange event was explainable; he was simply looking for his shack and forgot where it was. Of course, he would be a bit lost and disoriented, he hadn't visited the area in four years! He must have camped in the forest until the morning when we met. Yes, the dark-haired girl is nothing other than a figment of my mind. Romance novels and their scenarios made it easy to place a hero and heroine atop our frozen stage.

I threw the melting snowball at the tree near the frozen sap and walked back toward the shack. My mind was still trying to make sense of the previous events as something occurred to me.

If Owen was coming to stay out here for a while, why didn't he bring anything with him? Where did he camp the night before we met, and how did he keep from freezing without shelter or gear? Most importantly, how did he get to Colorado all the way from Virginia? Did he have a car? If so, where did he leave it?

There were many questions I couldn't wait to ask. However, just as I placed my hand on the shack door to push it open, Ethan and Owen's audible whispers filtered through the thin barrier.

"She doesn't have to know anything." Owen huffed.

Ethan groaned. "I'm just ... unsure, that's all."

"Look, we can make up an excuse."

"But what if she doesn't want to come back with us?"

Owen scoffed. "Come on, I know how to make girls agree to anything." He chuckled but Ethan didn't.

"It doesn't seem like a good idea," Ethan said, sounding uninterested.

"Do you trust me?" Owen's smile was easy to detect in his tone.

Silence stilled the air. Not even the wind blew as I pressed my ear to the door and strained to hear Ethan's response.

"Yes, I trust you," he said convincingly.

"Well, good." Owen's voice lifted with enthusiasm. "We'll do it today."

What were they planning to do? And why couldn't they wait to talk to me about it? I kept my ear to the wood, closing my eyes and steadying my breath in order to hear every sound.

"How did you like that first kiss?" Owen's voice dropped and deepened, and I imagined the sensual look in his eyes.

Ethan words were barely discernable. "It was . . . different."

Owen laughed softly. "How about the second kiss?"

Second kiss? They shared another kiss?

"It was better," Ethan confessed.

"Oh, yeah?" The sound of movement and shuffling filled the space. "I can guess by the way you're looking at me that you're interested in a third."

I pushed the door and it swung on its hinges, creaking and screeching like an amateur's bow on his violin strings. Kneeling before Ethan, who sat on the corner of the bed, Owen snapped his head in my direction.

I glared. "What are you doing?"

"Just talking." Owen stood and dusted off the knees of his pants with his hand. "What are you doing?"

I ignored him and sneered at Ethan instead. It was very unusual to be angry at Ethan, but lately he'd been getting under my skin enough to nearly send me to my boiling point.

I kept my sights on Ethan, refusing to give Owen the satisfaction of influencing my energy. "What's so important that you have to be alone to talk?"

Owen scoffed. "Guy stuff."

Guy stuff was always their excuse. "You leave me out of everything. Why?" I folded my arms over my chest.

"Not everything." Ethan stared at the floor. "Just the guy stuff."

I huffed, trying to control the sense of betrayal racing through me. "Oh, so kissing each other is just 'guy stuff'?"

Owen swiped his hand through his hair and slid his tongue along the smooth skin of his bottom lip, causing it to glisten and blush. "It wasn't guy stuff when I kissed you."

Ethan lifted his head so quickly it got both of our attention. "You kissed her?"

Of course, Ethan was surprised. He didn't know. I never told him. The thought of me and Owen having our own little secret gave me a sense of power that I knew did nothing more than satisfy a bruised ego.

Owen nodded. "Yes. She was angry and wanted to know how it felt. So, I showed her. She felt better. It's not a big deal."

I ignored Owen's nonchalant view of a moment that will stay with me forever, and focused my attention to Ethan instead. The look on Ethan's face changed from shock to disappointment. I already knew he was going to shut down the rest of the day. That's how he usually operated when in his moods.

But what triggered his irritation?

Was it the fact that Owen kissed me? How we had kept that moment to ourselves?

Or maybe Ethan's suppressed anger stemmed from the same source as mine, the pit in the center of our gut that suggested Owen was not only playing with our mind but with our sensitive heart too.

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