Chapter 6
Sadie
“Your damn dog has lost its mind,” Clayton bellows from the kitchen, his voice carrying through the house. “Been outside pacing the goddamn fence since last night.”
I pad quietly down the hallway, emerging at the doorway. “He probably just heard something, like a raccoon or—”
“You need to get him under control or I will,” he cuts me off, his dark eyes boring into mine. “You try to play rescue with these rejects, and it never works out. Hate to break it to you, but it’s not your talent, honey.”
“Okay.” I slip past him, heading for the coffee pot. My eyes dart toward the kitchen window as I pass, spotting Flint, sure enough, running the fence line of the backyard, his attention in the direction of the old barn.
Dammit, Flint.
I chew the inside of my cheek, and focus my attention on pouring coffee, rather than the dog or Clayton, whose eyes are still scrutinizing my every move.
“I’ll be back to check on you this afternoon.”
“I know.” I don’t meet his eye, filling the mug with coffee. “You always come and check on me.”
“Consider it me showing you that I care,” he scoffs, and then swipes the mug from in front of me. I jump backward, slamming my lower back into the back of the sink. He lifts a brow at me, takes a sip of the coffee, and then heads out of the kitchen.
I breathe out a sigh of relief, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.
“I need to get going,” Clayton calls out from the mudroom. “Don’t do anything stupid today, Sadie.”
“Have a good day,” I call after him, but the door is already slamming shut.
I pour a second cup of coffee, mix my creamer into it, and then lean against the kitchen sink, watching Flint continue to pace the edge of the yard. Clayton’s truck fires up from the front, and then finally, it leaves the ranch.
I wait until I’m certain it’s gone before I head out the back, my boots thudding against the back porch steps. I cross the yard, open the gate, and let Flint follow me out to the barn.
He could try and attack me, I prep myself, trying to keep a hold on my fear. He could also be dead. My stomach flips at that one. I don’t really want him to die.
I don’t think I do, anyway. Maybe I should be indifferent.
“I am totally indifferent,” I say to Flint, just as we reach the sliding door.
With a grunt, I push it open, bracing as the early morning sun fills the barn. I scan the front area, where the feed sacks were stacked.
And he’s exactly where I left him.
That’s probably not good.
“Morning sunshine,” Cade’s voice drawls, and I catch the subtle Texas accent peeking through. “You were right one time.” He knocks the empty plastic jug in my direction. “I’m fucking parched.”
I glance down as the jug knocks into the toe of my boot, disgust hitting me squarely in the chest. “You can ask nicer than that.” The sharpness in my voice startles me.
He cocks his head in my direction, a sick grin sliding over his face. “No wonder you get finger necklaces.”
My hand immediately flies up to my neck, my face growing hot. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Yeah, you do.” Cade rakes his fingers through his greasy blond hair. “And don’t you dare tell me you liked it, because the pressure to bruise ain’t the kind that gives you ecstasy.”
I glare at him, my skin feeling prickly and cold even in the summer sun. My mouth opens to say something, but I can’t utter the words, Fuck you. I sweep up the jug, spin on my heel and head right back to the house, leaving the door wide open for Cade to bake.
“Good girl,” he calls after me, his voice mocking.
I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to shake it off. The walk from the barn to the back porch is a blinding stretch of cracked earth and dry, yellowed grass. My boots kick up small clouds of fine, powdery dust with every step.
Stupid fucking men. They’re all the same.
I reach the wooden steps of the back porch, my hand gripping the splintered railing as I thunder up them and yank the screen door open.
The rusted spring whines before the door slaps shut behind me, the wood rattling in its frame.
Inside the mudroom, the sudden rush of cold air conditioning hits my flushed skin, raising immediate goosebumps on my arms and neck.
Why am I helping this guy? Maybe I should turn him in when Clayton gets here.
But what if Cade tells him I helped him?
I shudder at the consequence of that as I cross into the kitchen.
I go straight for the pantry, my fingers finding the plastic handle of a large, empty pitcher.
I set it on the counter with a clatter and grab a plastic container of lemon-lime powder.
Twisting the lid off, I take a measuring cup and dump two scoops of the dust into the bottom.
A cloud of artificial citrus scent rises into the stagnant air of the kitchen.
Yet, here you are, just doing whatever they tell you to.
I turn on the sink, fill the pitcher, and then finish making the new batch, pouring it into the plastic jug I brought back from the barn.
Leaving that on the counter, I turn and walk down the narrow hallway toward the laundry room. The house is completely still, the silence heavy and suffocating. From a folded stack on top of the dryer, I grab a faded, oversized gray T-shirt and a pair of worn denim jeans.
Flint scratches at the back door, and I let him in, meeting his big, soppy brown eyes.
“I don’t know why I’m doing this,” I tell the dog, and he tilts his head at me. “I’m just trading one evil for another.”
Flint’s tail slaps the floor of the mudroom.
Still, I get the jug. The clothes. Tylenol. And head right back out into the blazing morning sun.
Cade’s eyes widen as I step back into the barn and then dump it all at his side.
“Here,” I mumble. “More Gatorade, fresh clothes, and Tylenol for the pain. Best of luck.” I turn on my heel, fighting the burning urge to burst into a pathetic fit of tears.
“What’d you do?” His voice stops me.
I freeze, glancing over my shoulder. “What do you mean?”
“To end up like this?”
“It’s none of your business,” I snap, shaking my head. Every ounce of my body wants to make a dash for the door and leave, but I can’t bring myself to move.
His eyes sweep over me. “You’re in trouble.”
My throat knots up. “You’re lucky you’re not dead in a ditch somewhere.”
Cade’s brows knit together, amusement dancing in his eyes. “You know, I wouldn’t have been mad to end up dead in a ditch. Natural selection. Play stupid games, win stupid prizes.”
I hold his gaze, fighting the urge not to wrap my arms around myself. “Are you trying to make a point about me?”
He shrugs, tipping his head to the side and popping his neck. “I don’t know, am I?” Cade reaches out and grabs the jug, lifting it up and taking a long sip through the plastic straw.
My heart skips a beat. He’s getting stronger.
He swallows, and then gestures to his leg. “I don’t think it’s going to rot and fall off.” He reaches forward and pokes the swollen flesh, wincing slightly. “I think I’ll be able to get around soon.”
I swallow hard. “I wouldn’t push it.”
His gaze snaps to me, darkening. “You think you’re gonna keep me locked up here?”
A brief surge of fear hits me in the chest, but I just shrug. “I think you should make sure you’re recovered fully before you keep running.” I open my mouth to add to it, but then press my lips together. I want to ask where it was he was trying to go, but I doubt he’d tell me.
And I don’t trust him. He’s not like Clay or the men around here. The way he glares at me is the same way Flint used to look at me when I first got him—right before he’d bite.
“You gonna just stare at me?”
I blink, clearing my thoughts. “You need to change clothes. I’ll burn the ones you got on.” I gesture to his bloody T-shirt and jeans. “They’re useless now.”
“Because you cut the leg,” Cade points to my shitty scissor work, opening up the leg of his jeans. “These would’ve been fine had you not mutilated them.”
“You’re the one who got bitten by a snake,” I shoot back, folding my arms across my chest. “I was helping you. All I’ve done is help you.”
“Because you’re lonely and you wanna play rescue,” Cade scoffs, his words unwantedly stinging.
“Just… change your clothes.” I spin around this time, and don’t stop, walking through the open barn door.
“Can I have food?” Cade calls out from behind me, his tone of voice lighter.
I roll my eyes and slide the barn door closed.
I stand outside, sweating in the heat, and shame rises in my throat. It’s stupid to let him get to me. He’s nothing, a no-one, and a failure by all counts. He’s a dying animal with blood on his hands and probably a head full of demons.
Still, I find myself wanting him to just… like me. Even just a little.
I stalk back toward the house, refusing to look back at the barn. There’s something… wrong about him—about the way he laughs, the way he knows exactly what to say to make me feel raw and exposed. It’s that familiar meanness but sharpened to a point I’ve never seen before.
And as I climb the porch steps, the back door swings open, Clay stepping out.
“What the hell were you doing in the barn?”
My lips part, then close. Then open. “Um… I… Well… Flint…”
He narrows his eyes at me. “What the fuck is in the barn, Sadie?”
“Nothing. Flint just kept barking at it, and so I went out to look, and I just felt so stupid for even going inside the old thing—it’s going to collapse at any minute…” The lies come out in a ramble.
“I see,” Clayton hums, looking past me toward the barn. “I think I’ll go take a look.”
Oh shit. Oh shit, shit, shit.