Lake Hollow

Chapter One: The Road Out

The road narrowed to a ribbon between pines, the mountains rising like dark shoulders on either side. Sierra drove with the window cracked and the cold air cutting through the hum of the tires. Jaxon sat beside her, tapping a rhythm on his knee with a half-empty coffee cup. In the back, Riley had one hiking boot on and one off, laughing at a story Theo was telling about getting lost at a county fair when he was eight and ending up feeding goats until his mom found him.

“No service,” Jaxon announced, holding his phone up to the window like it could catch a signal from the passing clouds.

“That’s the point,” Riley said, shoving her second boot on. She had bright eyes and a habit of grinning at bad ideas. “A weekend off-grid. We need it.”

Theo leaned forward between the seats. “Also, I brought a deck of cards. And instant noodles. And a knife in case we have to fight a bear.”

“You and a bear are evenly matched in diet,” Sierra said, smiling.

The GPS had cut out twenty minutes back, but the printed directions sat folded on Sierra’s thigh. Follow the dirt road past mile marker 23. Turn left at the fallen split-rail fence. Look for the hand-painted sign: Lake Hollow. Jaxon had found the spot online: secluded, cheap, near water, no crowds.

The dirt road jolted them. Sun broke over the tree line and ran across the windshield, making Sierra squint. She loved driving into a place that felt like the world had forgotten it. It quieted the buzz in her chest that even coffee could not tame.

They rounded a bend, and the trees opened to a glimmer of water. Lake Hollow stretched out like a patch of sky fallen between the peaks, a wind brushing the surface so the light trembled. An old dock jutted into the shallows, sun-faded and crooked, one corner listing toward the reeds. Beyond it, the forest stood dense and still.

“Home,” Riley said, rolling down her window to breathe in the resin-sweet air.

Sierra pulled the car off into a clearing that looked like it had been scuffed out by many tires over the years. She turned off the engine, and in the sudden quiet, the lake whispered to the shore. They got out and stretched, then started unloading tents, coolers, and the stack of mismatched mugs Riley insisted on bringing because “hot chocolate tastes better this way.”

“Don’t forget the first rule,” Jaxon said as he wrestled a tent pole out of a bag. “No phones. No social. If somebody starts twitching, we confiscate.”

Theo raised both hands. “I solemnly swear to be boring and present.”

For a moment, Sierra let her gaze sweep the water and the trees beyond. The feeling that the forest watched them wasn’t fear exactly, more like attention. As if they were the unexpected ones here. The air was colder than the city, thinner. She took it in, let it settle.

“You’re smiling,” Jaxon said, bumping his shoulder against hers.

“I like the quiet,” Sierra said. “Feels like you can hear your own thoughts.”

“Dangerous,” Riley said, grinning. “I only brought one deck of cards.”

They set up camp while the sun slid along the ridge, the day easing into itself like a promise.