Chapter 27
“That’s far enough. You stop right there.”
I follow orders, putting my hands up at the sight of the second shotgun in two weeks that’s come far closer to me than I would prefer. Although, even as close as we are standing, I have my suspicions that the person holding the gun can’t actually see us.
“Ma’am,” I say to the woman who makes old friend seem like a vast understatement.
She stands in the front doorway of her two-story farmhouse in the early evening light, a floor-length blue dress on beneath her apron and her gray hair in long braids that shift over her shoulder as she adjusts her ancient grip on the gun that’s nearly as big as she is.
“If you would be kind enough to put that down, I think we—”
“Afraid this is not a kind house for trespassers.” Her dark brown eyes narrow as she tries to peer past me. “Who is that you have with you?”
“Told you I should have gone first,” Cypress mutters, and I sigh as he sidesteps out from where I’d put him behind me. “How you been keeping, Dolly?”
Had I not seen the transformation myself, I would never have believed the woman threatening to gun me down a moment ago was the same one that smiles radiantly as soon as Cypress makes his appearance and starts confidently walking up to the house.
Nor would I have believed she could move as fast as she does, exchanging the shotgun for a cane before hustling to the weathered porch railing.
“Cypress, as I live and breathe,” she says, pulling him in for a hug when he meets her at the bottom of the stairs.
“How have you been keeping? That’s the real question.
” She frowns, studying his face, including the faintly visible bruising still around his eyes.
“You look like you got caught up in something.”
“Might be putting it lightly,” he replies. “I want you to meet Aiden.”
He pivots to the side so that I’m in her view again, though as soon as he does, her happy expression fades to something far more critical. “Aiden, hm?” she asks, still eyeing me warily even after I’ve stepped forward and given her hand what I hope is a gentle squeeze.
“Handshake needs work,” she says in return, refusing to let go of as she uses the end of the cane in her other one to push up the brim of my hat and get a better look. “You know, your face is liable to get stuck in that scowl if you aren’t careful.”
Beside me, Cypress snickers, and I shoot a glare his way, wondering if we’re going to break what has been our longest stretch to date without some sort of dispute.
Only because this is also the longest stretch of time where he hasn’t insisted on talking my ear off, since I had insisted he keep his mouth shut while we approached the house, unsure what he was getting us into this time.
Otherwise, he never stops talking. From the moment he gets up in the morning to the moment he finally falls asleep on the other side of the campfire, his mouth is runnin’.
Half the time, I’m not even sure what he’s going on about.
Books he’s read, songs he likes…which fuckin’ stars are his favorite.
And then after every time, he looks at me like he wants me to tell him the same, and the truth is, I don’t have a single fuckin’ clue.
Never really thought to read for leisure.
Never really thought to look at the stars except to use them to find my way.
And as for the songs…there’s one in particular he keeps humming, one I feel like I know but can’t place.
Rational thing would be to simply ask him what it is, but then he might take that as encouragement, and God knows that is the last thing he needs.
“Wondering if you might have room for us for a bit, Dolly?” Cypress is asking, leaning against the porch as if he doesn’t have a care in the world. “Found ourselves in a bit of trouble over in Soldana.”
“Should’ve known that was you,” she says, and I detect more amusement in her tone than disapproval. “Was sure it was, but then the rumors said there were two involved.” She glances back at me, openly taking me in from head to foot. “Where’d you find him?”
“He robbed my employer,” I say, past done with being talked about like I’m not here.
“I see.” One of her thin eyebrows rises. “With your help?”
“No,” I snap. “Wasn’t part of that. I only—”
“You only came here with him,” she counters. “Rather than staying with your—I would assume now—former employer.”
“He saved my life,” Cypress explains before I can, a touch of something in his voice that makes me shift my weight from foot to foot. “Was all very heroic.”
I roll my eyes, but the corner of the old woman’s mouth is tipping up now. “So to be sure I understand, he robbed your employer, and rather than prevent it from happening, you helped him get away? Likely putting your own life on the line in the process? That about cover it?”
“Feels like we’re leaving out a few details there,” I mutter, grinding a pebble beneath the toe of my boot into the dirt. “Important ones.”
“Undoubtedly,” she says, and I catch her eyes flicking back and forth between Cypress and me, and… Christ. Not again.
“Ma’am,” I start to say, “whatever it is you’re thinking—”
“Right now, I’m thinking you boys could use a warm meal. And a bed,” she says, turning away and walking back up the stairs with her cane thudding along on each step. “I’ll let you pick which one. Cypress, you remember where everything is.”
“I’ll take my usual,” he replies, jogging up the stairs so he can open the door for her.
“Aiden will want to sleep on the ground floor. Back bedroom will do. We’ll go get the horses settled and then we’ll be in.
” The old woman nods and disappears into the house before he looks back at me, finding me staring while frozen at the bottom of the stairs. “What? No good?”
“Fine,” I say, frowning. “How did you know I’d want to sleep on the ground floor?”
“Closest to an exit,” he says with a shrug. “Easiest escape.”
“Right,” I say, folding my arms across my chest. “But wouldn’t you prefer the same?”
The corner of his mouth twitches. “Are you suggesting we share?”
“No.” I take my hat off to run a hand through my hair. “I’m suggesting that it might also be the room you’d prefer, and I don’t want to impose. You’re clearly more familiar here and—fuck’s sake, I’m trying to have…some fucking manners. You familiar with the idea?”
“Why?” He saunters to the edge of the porch, looking down at me with that fucking smirk. “Would it help if I said please?”
I could kill him. I really could. After two weeks in constant close proximity, it would be so goddamn easy to charge up these stairs, get my hands on him, push him up against the side of the house, and…and…
I clear my throat, taking a few cautious steps back while grasping my hat in front of me with both hands, and I’d swear he almost looks disappointed again. Like when he’d come to stand at Maddock’s table and I hadn’t gone after him, knowing it wouldn’t end well if I did.
This wouldn’t either. And all his teasing aside, he must realize how bad of an idea it would be to let this veer off course any more than it has already—not that there’s anything to veer into. At least not on my side. Probably not on his either. Not really.
It’d be dangerous to blur lines with each other—to allow something that could end up being a distraction. We can’t afford that. Not now. Not ever.
“Listen,” I say at last, letting out a sigh. “You want that room for yourself or not?”
He frowns, shaking his head. “It’s not my preference.”
“What is?” I ask, certain that I should know this detail about him if he knows it about me. “Where you prefer to sleep?”
“Outside,” he says as he comes down the stairs. “When the sky is clear.”
“Then why the fuck are we here?” I ask, gesturing toward the house. “This was your idea. We could have kept moving.”
I still could…if I decide I’m better off on my own, which is indisputably the case.
“Didn’t come for the bed,” Cypress explains, calm as can be, which somehow irritates me further. “As I said, we’re here to see my friend.”
“I thought you meant someone who could actually be of…” I start to say, then pause, taking a deep breath before continuing. “Please tell me that we did not ride for two weeks for a damn social call.”
“We didn’t,” he says quickly, but then glances away. “Not entirely.”
I take a step toward him, still expecting for some reason that he will take a step back when I do. Like anyone else would. But of course, he doesn’t. Never does. So instead, all we end up doing is standing far too close as I ask, “Cypress, what are we doing here?”
“Seeking counsel,” he says simply, as if that’s all the explanation needed.
“On what?”
“Our next move,” he replies, though his gaze drops to my mouth as he says it. Something I choose to ignore for the sake of my own fucking sanity. “I have a few…in mind.”
I grab the front of his shirt, yanking him closer and erasing what little space there was between us. “Speak. Plainly.”
He gives me a look, both of his hands gripping my forearms, and the touch shouldn’t feel as familiar as it does. “Well, we are currently fugitives.”
“I’m aware,” I bite out. “Which is why we need to put as much distance as possible between us and them.”
“Running is not a strategy.”
I roll my eyes. “And playing house is?”
“Depends on the house.”
“Christ.” I let go of him, turning away in an attempt to get some air. Doesn’t work, though, since he stays right by me, hovering near my elbow. “How the fuck did I get myself into this?”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see him frown. “I said I’d fix it. I’ll get it straightened out.”
“How?” I ask him, not really expecting him to have a response even when I expand on the question. “How exactly do you plan to fix this?”
“The usual way.”
“The usual way,” I repeat, closing my eyes and hanging my head as I take another breath that doesn’t do a goddamn thing for me. “The fact that you even have a usual way…” I turn, angling my body toward his again as I inform him, “I told you I’m not killing, just because you got us into this mess.”
“And I told you I wouldn’t ask you to.” He frowns, eyes searching mine. “If you would just give me a fraction of your trust—”
“Why would I—”
“If you two are going to argue in my front yard, can you at least speak up?” interrupts a voice from the front doorway. “I can’t hear you from the kitchen.”
I bite my tongue, glancing between the old woman and the man in front of me. “Are you kin?” I ask him. “Related?”
Cypress shakes his head, about to speak before she replies for him. “We’re not blood, but I do consider him one of mine.” She arches an eyebrow at me. “You’ll remember that if you have any sense.”
“Not sure I do,” I mutter, turning my attention back to the man in question, who is now trying hard to suppress another grin despite our most recent disagreement. “I’ll take care of the horses. You go inside and catch up.”
“No, I’ll come,” he continues to argue as I whistle for them and start heading toward the barn. “I should at least show you—”
“I can figure it out,” I say confidently when he starts to follow. “Might figure out I prefer to sleep out here, too, while I’m at it.”
I hear his footsteps falter, the frown in his voice when he asks after me, “Why?”
“Closest to an exit,” I repeat back to him without turning around. “Easiest escape.”