Chapter 22
twenty-two
EZRA
There isn’t much to the small town closest to the cliffside house.
It would make more sense to drive the extra hour into the city so I could do one big shopping trip instead of the multiple small ones I’ll have to do here.
It would attract too much attention if I bought a month’s worth of supplies from a small-town grocer, and staying as under the radar as possible is the goal.
The problem with chain stores in big towns is that they have cameras, and my dad and I have been running off the theory that Patrick, or at least Eva, has access to facial recognition software.
How the hell either of them got that is anyone’s guess.
I suppose having a high-ranking government official as a husband has its benefits. Or it did while he was alive, anyway.
I picked the house for how isolated it was, but a small town with basic technology and no cameras was an added bonus.
I even introduced myself to most of the town when I came up to buy the place.
The designer I hired is also the owner of the only restaurant in town.
When I told her that I was buying the house as a vacation home for me and my boyfriend, she seemed thrilled.
She said gay men spend the most on takeout.
Which cannot be correct if the amount of takeout Willa ordered growing up is anything to go off of.
I was laying the foundation for coming here with Maverick.
I don’t know how I’m going to explain Jo.
We look nothing alike, so claiming her as a relative would probably raise a few brows.
Saying she’s a friend might work if we can keep from fighting while in town.
And I know they’re going to ask. This isn’t the first small town I’ve lived in, and they’re all populated by nosy people.
Pulling into the parking lot of the family-owned grocery store, I turn to Jo. “Hey, we need to—”
“Is that you, Ben?” The screech comes with an accompanying knock on my window. Jo jumps and bangs her head on her window. This is all going to shit, and I haven’t even stepped out of the truck yet.
“Hi Martha,” I say when I put down my window.
Martha’s orange hair is in her usual bun at the base of her neck.
Today she’s wearing a pink flannel. The color varies, but it seems like the woman is always in a flannel no matter the time of year.
“It’s nice to see you again.” As much as I really enjoy the restaurant owner/interior designer, now is not a great time for a chat.
“I knew that was you. I told my Darren. I told him there’s no one else who would have hair like that in a place like this.” Martha laughs to herself and rubs my head like a dog.
“What is happening?” Jo asks. I turn to her and see she’s rubbing a spot on the side of her head. Unfortunately, this also gets Martha’s attention.
“And who are you?” she asks Jo, while shooting a disapproving look my way. She definitely thinks I’m cheating on the boyfriend I told her about.
Jo leans over and sticks her hand out to Martha. “I’m Connie, it’s nice to meet you.”
Martha takes her hand even though it looks like the last thing she wants to do, but no one will ever accuse the woman of not having manners. “And who are you to our Ben here?”
“We’re just friends, Martha.”
“Now now, Ben. I’m talking to Miss Connie,” Martha says, patting my hand like I don’t understand what’s going on.
I know what it looks like. Jo changed into the extra clothes I brought before we left the house.
My clothes. It’s very obvious they’re my clothes with the way they hang off her slim frame.
“We really need to get going on our errands,” I attempt, but Martha acts like I haven’t spoken.
“He’s right. We’re just friends,” Jo says.
“Mmm.” Martha’s lips press into a thin line, clearly not believing us. I’m about to open my mouth to tell her off because who does she think she is? She’s acting like my mother.
“I swear,” Jo says before I can. “Ben here got me out of a bad situation. He’s letting me stay with him at the house.
His boyfriend will be joining us as soon as he can.
” I did not miss the slight sneer on the word boyfriend, but luckily Martha did.
Jo carefully lifts the leg of her sweatpants to show Martha her swollen ankle and burned skin.
It’s not the move I would have made, but it definitely stops Martha’s line of questioning in its tracks.
“Oh my,” she gasps. “Darren!” I flinch. Martha screamed directly into my ear. “Darren, get over here!”
A small and slightly round man with a shiny bald head and epic white mustache does a half walk, half jog combination up to Martha’s side.
“What is it?” he asks, out of breath after jogging thirty feet.
“This is Ben. You know Ben. He’s the one that bought that house I decorated.”
“Yes, of course. Nice to see ya again, Ben,” Darren says with a nod.
“This isn’t about Ben,” Martha says, sounding frustrated. I glance over at Jo, and she looks just as confused as I do. “That girl there is Connie, and she needs a doctor.”
“Oh, no. I’m fine, really,” Jo says, shaking her head and slowly moving her back against the door like she can get further away from them.
“Nonsense,” Martha says, waving her hand in front of her face like she can physically brush off the idea. “Darren is the town doctor.”
“I can’t see a doctor,” Jo says, looking at me with panic in her eyes. I get it. We can’t have her on record anywhere, and she already gave them a false name. A name that won’t have any identification to back it up.
“Don’t worry,” Martha reassures her. “I understand your situation and nothing is going on file. Darren can look at your injuries right here and get you whatever you need.”
I lean over to Jo. “You tell me no, and I’ll drive right out of this parking lot,” I whisper to her. I might not be Jo’s biggest fan, but like hell will I let anyone touch her without her permission.
“It’s okay.” Jo unlocks her door and turns to face Darren, who is patiently waiting for her.
“That poor girl. You’re such a good boy to help her out.”
I force a smile. I’m not a good guy. I would’ve left her there in a heartbeat if it meant getting Maverick out. Hell, I’d swap her out for him right now if I didn’t know it would mean Maverick would never speak to me again.
“Those burns are second-degree. I have an antibiotic cream at the clinic that you should put on them twice a day. Martha has an aloe plant she can give you some cuttings from. That should really help. As for your ankle, I believe it’s just a bad sprain.
I’ll grab a set of crutches and a brace for you.
Make sure to ice it periodically, and you can take some over-the-counter pain meds as needed. ”
“Thank you, Dr. Darren,” Jo says politely.
“It’s no problem, my dear. I’m just glad you’re away from whatever situation you were in.” Darren pats Jo gently on the arm. “I’ll head over to the clinic now while you do your shopping. Although, you really should keep the weight off that ankle.”
“I’m staying in the truck.”
“I appreciate your help,” I say, before they ask more questions. “I can meet you at the clinic after I get groceries and more clothes for Connie.”
“Actually, the pants she’s wearing are perfect. Nothing tight around those burns until they fully heal. They may scar, but you can get some scar cream if it comes to that.”
“Meet us at the clinic in, say . . . two hours?” Martha looks at Darren, who nods. “Two hours. That gives me time to run home and get that aloe for you.”
I watch them both race off toward a bright yellow SUV. My shoulders relax with each step they take away from my truck.
“The lack of color in your house doesn’t make any sense if it came from that woman,” Jo says, making me bark out a laugh. Silence follows. Neither of us is used to that sound. There isn’t exactly a lot to laugh about right now.
Clearing my throat, I say, “I’ll head inside.
Make a list of clothes and sizes. I got blood on the list you made at the house.
I’ll grab those next.” I hand her an old receipt and a pen.
“It’s still warm enough in the house to wear shorts if you want to keep fabric off your burns.
” Jo nods, staring out at the store, probably avoiding looking at me.
I get out of the truck, and the only reason I don’t slam the door behind me is to avoid any more attention.
By the time I have the groceries unpacked and Jo set up on the couch with an ice pack on her ankle, it’s already getting dark. We spent more time at the clinic than I had expected. I’m just glad the fall weather made it cool enough to keep the groceries from spoiling in the truck.
Jo forced Darren to look at where she had stabbed me. Now I have six stitches and a headache from Martha lecturing me on good communication skills as her husband sewed my skin back together.
“Did you have to give Martha every detail about what happened this morning?” I ask Jo.
She looks up from the book she’s reading.
We had to stop at the bookstore when she spotted it.
Which is another reason we’re back so late.
I offered to try to get her an e-reader, but she said she prefers the smell of real books. Whatever the fuck that means.
Jo glares at me and swipes my beer from my hand, downing half of it in one go. “Yes.”
I glare at her before pulling the second bottle out of my back pocket. The side of her mouth twitches as she tries to suppress a smile. We’ve come to some weird silent truce today. I guess all it took was letting her stab me. We’ll see how long this lasts before I need medical attention again.
“I’m not an idiot,” she says, picking at the label on the beer bottle.
“Never said you were.”
“Martha and Darren seem like the people in town that everyone else turns to. Is that correct?”
I think for a moment. I spent enough time here when I was buying the house and during the renovations to get to know the town and the people. Not well, but well enough.
“I’d agree with that.”
“So it makes sense to endear them to you so that if or when someone from out-of-town comes asking questions, they won’t give you up.”
I stare at her in shock. “I honestly thought you told Martha you stabbed me just to get some sick pleasure out of her laying into me.”
Jo throws her head back and laughs. The sound is almost musical and in such contradiction to her rough exterior. “It was a lovely bonus. I won’t deny it.”
“It’s why you implied you’re running from an abusive relationship,” I say, just now realizing how smart and clever this woman really is.
“It’s a gamble, but I’m hoping that if Patrick comes looking for us, Martha will make sure no one gives us up.
What monsters give a victim up to their abuser?
” Jo just shrugs like it’s normal to have thought that far ahead after being startled by a stranger knocking on the window of your car.
Most people barely think past what pair of pants they’re going to put on when they get dressed in the morning.
No wonder Maverick fell for her.
Nope.
Don’t go there, Ezra. You’re getting along for once.
“Smart gamble,” I admit, begrudgingly.
Jo laughs again, then turns back to her book, effectively ending the conversation.
It’s been one day with this woman, and I’m more confused about her than ever. It would be so much easier to just hate her. Except I’m starting to think that’s not possible.