[Each chapter of Octagon corresponds to a song that inspired the shape of the character arc and/or story arc. You can listen to each chapter's "song" to gain further insight into the world-building of Gossamer Loom and the people who live there. I definitely had fun listening to these songs while I was writing the novel. Chapter 4's "Formation Song" is "I Will Always Love You" by Dolly Parton.]

Cooper Reynolds just loved the woods. He always had. The world just made sense when you had an axe in your hand and a job to do.

There was a simplicity in this forest, with this job; a predictable rhythm that calmed him down when life got too freaky. He raised his axe and brought it down hard, and the log split in two, sending a satisfying crack through the crisp night air. His thick flannel shirt was damp with sweat, but the cool fall breeze made his efforts feel good.

The trees stretched out around him, an eternity of towering pines and oaks. This was his home, the edge of Gossamer Loom, the place where he'd spent his whole life. People always asked him if he was planning on leaving—as if it was something everyone had to do eventually. But Coop couldn't imagine being anywhere else.

He grunted as he lifted another log onto the chopping block, his arms burning from hours of work. But the ache kept his mind from meandering, from thinking about things he didn't want to think about. Like how Ivy used to come here sometimes, back when they were kids, just to sit and talk while he swung the axe.

He, Ivy, Caroline, Willy—they had been inseparable once. Best friends, thicker than thieves. Now Willy was gone, Caroline was locked away, and Ivy... well, he wasn't sure if they'd ever speak again. And, seeing as how this was the worst thought imaginable, he decided it'd be best not to think it anymore.

Gossamer Loom had given him that quiet life he thought he wanted. And he couldn't let thoughts of you-know-who mess that up.

For many years, he'd done his best to get over her. After all, they hadn't been together since high school... ten years ago, now. And he had tried move on. But ever since he woke up from that weird ass dream... he couldn't ignore how much his heart ached to see her again.

Ivy.

He saw her in flashes—horrifying visions that came out of nowhere. Her neck was on the chopping block. Her dark skin glistening in the moonlight—her face twisted in anguish as if she knew the axe was coming down any second now. In his intrusive, waking nightmares he was always the one holding the axe, hovering over her... ready to bring it down. The dream never went further—never showed the axe come down... but the terror lingered—like a pit in his stomach, a reminder of what they'd done to each other's hearts years ago.

Coop gritted his teeth, trying to shake the images. They weren't real. It was just his fear. He would never hurt Ivy like that. But he knew the truth: their relationship had already left its mark on both of them, one that would never fade.

The sound of footsteps broke through his thoughts—crunching through the leaves behind him. He didn't need to turn to know who it was.

Ivy.

Somehow, he had known deep down she'd come to see him tonight.

Ivy stood at the edge of the clearing, her figure barely visible in the fading light. Her hair was longer now, even messier, and her posture was more guarded, but she was still Ivy. The Ivy that had been his high school sweetheart once. His first love. She had that same sharpness in her eyes, that same spirit that pulled him in years ago.

She'd always made him feel whole, even when they were tearing each other apart.

"What are you doing here?" Coop asked, his voice low and rough.

Ivy shrugged, stepping closer, her boots leaving prints in the forest dirt. "Didn't plan on coming here tonight."

He knew she was lying. She wasn't wearing hiking boots for nothing.

She stopped a few feet away, close enough for him to see the way her arms were wrapped around herself, like she was holding something back.

"You shouldn't have come," he muttered.

"I know." Her voice was softer than he remembered, like the years had worn down some of the sharp edges.

But not all of them.

"I know we agreed... but here I am," she continued. "I always was pretty lousy at following the rules..."

They stood in the clearing, the silence between them heavy.

"What do you want, Ivy?" Coop asked, though he wasn't sure he wanted to hear the answer.

"I don't know," she said, her gaze dropping to the ground. "I just... I... you... have... been on my mind. A lot."

Coop let out a snort laugh. "Yeah, well. I know the feeling."

Ivy looked up at him.

"I keep thinking about us," she said, her voice steady now. "About what happened. About why we ended it."

"We both know why," Coop said with a cold chuckle, his tone harsher than he meant. "We were no good for each other, Ivy. We were toxic."

"I know that." She uncrossed her arms, letting them fall to her sides. "But..."

Coop sighed, running a hand through his hair.

"I don't want to hurt you again," Coop said, softer this time. "And I don't want you to hurt me."

"I don't want that either," she said. There was a pause, and when she looked back up at him, there was something pleading in her eyes. "But I can't help thinking... maybe..."

Coop felt that familiar tug in his chest, the one that always pulled toward Ivy, no matter how hard he tried to resist. "Maybe... huh-what?" he mumbled.

"Maybe we should fuck."

Coop almost dropped the axe.

He considered her offer. An interesting proposition, Ivy, he thought to himself. And given how hot she looked tonight, maybe she was right... he stared at her for a long moment.

He knew where that path led. He knew what happened when they gave in.

Ivy scanned his eyes, then let out a sigh, like she knew she wasn't gonna get any. "I just miss you."

"I miss you too," he admitted, and the truth of it felt like a kick in the balls. "But we can't go back. Not to that."

"Ugh. I know that..." Ivy took a step closer, the tension between them thick and electric. "We don't have to go back. We don't have to be anything. But maybe we don't have to be nothing, either."

Coop swallowed hard. He could feel the warmth, he could smell the faint scent of her perfume. Everything about her was familiar.

But that was dangerous.

"Maybe," he said, his voice low. "But not tonight."

Ivy's lips twitched into a half-smile, the kind that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Not tonight," she agreed, stepping back slightly to break the tension.

The silence settled again, but it wasn't as heavy this time. 

Coop reached into his pocket and pulled out a flask.

"Drink?"

Ivy took it, unscrewing the cap and taking a swig. The whiskey burned, but it was the kind of burn that felt good, the kind that reminded them they were alive. She handed it back to him, and they stood there, drinking in silence as a cloud blocked the moonlight, the sky darkened, and the forest wrapped around them like a raven's wings.

The flask passed between them in slow, quiet motions, each swig of whiskey warming Coop's chest, but doing little to soften the anxiety coiled in his gut. For a while, neither of them spoke. The silence between them wasn't uncomfortable, but it wasn't easy either.

Coop glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. Ivy's face was still, her expression unreadable. She had always been hard to figure out. Even after ten years, he couldn't read her.

The forest creaked and groaned around them, the branches swaying softly in the night breeze. It was quiet here, but not dead. Gossamer Loom was never completely still. There was always something watching, something just out of sight.

A rustling in the trees caught his ear, faint but sharp enough to cut through the silence. Coop froze, his body going rigid, his hand tightening around the flask. Ivy turned her head toward the sound, her eyes narrowing into the darkness.

"What the fucking titty-shit was that shit?!" she whispered reflexively.

Coop strained to see through the darkening woods. The shadows between the trees were thick like charcoal. He spotted it then—a figure, moving in the distance. A shadow slipping between the trunks, just on the edge of his vision. 

Is it Old Sam? Or something else? Read part two to find out...