Chapter 4: The Trail Back to Black Ridge

The other diners glanced our way, some with pity, some with curiosity. I leaned in, trying to shield her from their stares.

People were staring, so I leaned in and asked, “Natalie, what do you want me to do?”

I reached across the table, my hand hovering just above hers. I wanted to comfort her, but I didn’t know how.

She pulled out a tissue, dabbed her eyes, then looked at me.

Her mascara had smudged, but she didn’t seem to care. She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself.

Her lips trembled, and after a long pause, she finally said, “Evan, would you be willing to stay with me tonight?”

The words caught me off guard. My mind raced, trying to make sense of what she was asking.

When she said this, I nearly spat out my water, staring at her in disbelief.

I stammered, searching for the right thing to say. The silence between us stretched on.

Natalie quickly explained, “Evan, don’t get the wrong idea. You can sleep in the guest room, or you take the master bedroom and I’ll sleep in the guest room.”

She rushed the words out, cheeks flushed. I could tell she’d thought this through, worried how it would sound.

I said, “Natalie, it’s not about who sleeps where, it’s just…”

My voice trailed off. I didn’t have a good excuse. The truth was, I was scared too—of what might happen, of what I might feel.

I didn’t even know what my problem was. Maybe it was guilt.

Aaron’s shadow hung over everything. I wondered what he’d say if he could see us now.

A man and a woman, alone together at her place—how could that look right?

It felt like crossing a line, even if nothing happened. But maybe that was just my own guilt talking.

Natalie paused, then went on:

“If it really is him coming back, whether as a person or a ghost, I want to see him one more time.”

She looked away, voice barely above a whisper. I could see the hope and fear warring in her eyes.

“But this Aaron who came back… he feels like him, but also not. There’s something off. I can’t describe it, but it’s really strange.”

She shivered, wrapping her arms around herself. The hairs on my arms stood up.

“Evan, I’m… a little scared.”

She looked at me, her vulnerability laid bare. I couldn’t say no—not to her, not to Aaron’s memory.

Seeing her like that, I gave in.

I nodded, squeezing her hand. “Okay. I’ll stay.”

I didn’t believe Aaron could really come back from the dead, but Natalie didn’t seem to be lying.

Something was going on, and I needed to be there for her. Maybe for myself, too.

Screw it, I’ll go. What’s the worst that could happen?

I tried to joke, but my heart wasn’t in it. Still, I forced a smile and tried to lighten the mood.

That afternoon, Natalie drove her SUV to pick me up from work.

She pulled up outside the building, and I could see my coworkers peeking through the blinds, making faces. I shot them a look that said, "Drop it."

Of course, her showing up got me even more teasing from the guys.

They made kissy noises as I walked out, but I ignored them. Some things just aren’t funny.

But seeing the SUV, I couldn’t help thinking of Aaron.

He used to brag about how it could handle anything—mud, snow, even the apocalypse. The passenger seat still had his old baseball cap wedged in the door pocket.

Aaron and Natalie rented a two-bedroom place on the first floor.

It was cozy, with mismatched furniture and a pile of hiking boots by the door. The kind of place you could tell was lived in, loved.

The last time I’d been there was right after I heard Aaron had died.

The air still smelled faintly of his cologne and campfire smoke. The memory hit me like a punch to the gut.

Natalie said she’d seen Aaron in the bedroom last night.

She led me down the hall, pointing out where she’d stood, where he’d been. Her hands shook as she spoke.

She opened the window and pointed to the greenbelt outside, saying that’s where Aaron had been standing.

The grass was still damp from last night’s rain. I tried to imagine seeing a familiar face out there in the dark, staring back at you.

Following her finger, I saw the bushes were thick. In daylight, they looked lush, but at night, they’d be dark and creepy.

The wind rustled the leaves, making them whisper secrets I couldn’t quite hear. I shivered, suddenly cold.

Seeing someone standing there in the middle of the night would be terrifying—especially if that person might have come back from the dead.

My mind flashed to horror movies, to ghost stories told around campfires. But this was real life, and real life doesn’t have easy answers.

I asked, “Did you check the security cameras?”

She shook her head, biting her lip. I could tell she hadn’t thought of it, or maybe she was afraid of what she’d find.

Natalie said the complex only had cameras at the entrance, but we could check them together tomorrow to see if anyone like Aaron had come or gone.

It was a plan, at least. Something concrete to do, instead of just waiting for the next scare.

I nodded and asked, “Did Aaron ever mention anything besides filming in the Black Ridge?”

She furrowed her brow, thinking hard. I could see her replaying old conversations in her head.

She thought for a moment, then shook her head.

I let it drop. Maybe Aaron had wanted to protect her, keep her out of whatever he was planning.

I figured Aaron probably didn’t tell her so she wouldn’t worry.

That was just like him—keeping secrets, thinking he could handle everything on his own.

Natalie went on, “But before Aaron left, he suddenly transferred me $15,000.”

The number hit me like a slap. That was way more than he’d ever made from YouTube.

Fifteen grand?

I tried to keep my voice steady, but I could feel my pulse quicken. That kind of money doesn’t just show up out of nowhere.

I asked if Aaron had said where the money came from.

She hesitated, then nodded. “He said it was from a YouTube ad deal.”

He also said that when he came back, there’d be even more money, enough for a down payment on a house.

I did the math in my head. Even with viral videos, that kind of payout was a stretch. Something didn’t add up.

An ad? More money?

I tried to hide my skepticism, but she saw right through me. She shrugged, helpless.

Aaron only had 300,000 subscribers on YouTube. There’s no way he’d get a $15,000 ad deal with those numbers.

I knew the industry. Unless you’re pulling millions of views, you’re lucky to get a free backpack, let alone a five-figure check.

Given what Aaron told me before, that $15,000 seemed more like a deposit than ad money.

I started to get a bad feeling in my gut. People don’t just hand out that kind of cash without expecting something big in return.

Could someone have hired Aaron and his friends to go to Black Ridge to find something?