Chapter 4
4
Declan
T he snow is falling lightly as I step outside the hardware store. I adjust the collar of my coat and make a dash to my waiting truck. The groceries are inside a weatherproof bag, and it’s too cold for anything to go bad. I quickly load the generator into the back of the truck, satisfied that I finally have everything I need. With one slight complication.
I go back into the store to make firm plans with this woman I’ve ridiculously agreed to help. I don’t know why I did it. Usually, I try to avoid people as much as I can. My trips into town are short and infrequent, not long enough for anyone to get a foothold in my life. It’s easier that way.
It wasn’t that she seemed helpless or incapable, either. Her ramrod straight posture and guarded expression told me more than words ever could. She’s been through something, but she isn’t weak. Though I’ve seen her around before, today was the first time I really took notice of her, and suddenly I found myself wanting to know her more. The words were out of my mouth before I’d even registered I was saying them.
Inside the store, I find the two women again. One of them I know by name, but only from her diner nametag. Tawny. She’s hard to miss, always chatting up customers, always laughing. The other woman has dark hair, sharp eyes, a small yet curvy frame bundled in a coat that looks just a little too big for her.
She hesitates when she sees me approaching, her conversation trailing off. Her eyes dart to Tawny, then back to me, a flicker of recognition passing across her face.
“Hey,” Tawny greets me, her tone friendly, though I can see the curiosity in her eyes. “You’re not a serial killer, right?”
It’s all I can do not to burst out laughing, but I simply nod, meeting her gaze evenly.
“Right,” I confirm, trying to sound as sincere as possible.
Tawny elbows her friend lightly. “See, Jade? He’s not a serial killer. Just a Good Samaritan.”
Jade. So that’s her name. She still looks a bit wary and embarrassed from her friend’s brazenness, but she smiles weakly at me, a gesture of good faith.
“It’s very kind of you to offer,” she tells me. “But really, I can manage myself.”
“Your car is on the fritz,” Tawny butts in, clearly to Jade’s annoyance. The woman huffs and shoots her friend a significant look I can’t miss.
“It’s her first winter in her new place up on the mountain,” Tawny tells me, implicitly trusting me though she’s just met me. “We’re just making sure she has everything she needs to stay warm.”
“I can relate,” I answer, directing my remark toward Jade. We haven’t even officially been introduced, but I feel the need to put her at ease. I want her to know my intentions are completely pure.
She’s beautiful, anyone can see that, but I’m not doing this for any other reason than… well, come to think of it, I don’t know why I’m doing it. But I’ve already given my word and I’m not backing down now.
“Jade,” Ron says, meeting us at the counter as she begins to unload her things, “you’ve met Declan before, right? He’s our local hermit. He comes down off the mountain every few months to get some supplies and then scampers back up the way he came.”
I grimace slightly at this. Do they really think of me as a hermit? That’s not going to inspire much confidence in her.
“Of course,” Jade finally says, her apprehension shifting to slight recognition. “I knew you looked familiar. It’s nice to officially meet you, Declan, and thank you again for your offer. I’ll only accept it because I don’t think these two will let me rest until they’re sure I’m ready for this storm.”
“That’s right,” Ron confirms. “The wood will be here by seven a.m. sharp tomorrow. You both meet me here and I’ll get you loaded up.”
“I could help split the wood, if you need,” I offer, again realizing my mouth has run away from my brain. Suddenly I’ve turn into Santa’s little helper. I’ve been in this town for years and never offered anyone anything before. Maybe this was my brain’s way of saying I needed to socialize more. “No sense waiting ’til morning if the storm’s coming.”
Ron shakes his head, already waving me off. “The storm’s not supposed to hit for two days,” he says confidently, and I decide to trust him. He’s probably been through dozens of storms like this. “Plenty of time to get it sorted. Besides, my neighbor’s handling it for now.”
“I don’t mind,” I insist. “It’s not like I’ve got anything pressing to do.”
“I appreciate the offer,” Ron says, his voice carrying that same steady certainty it always does, “but it’s under control. You don’t need to put yourself out.”
I bite back the urge to argue further. Ron’s the kind of man who doesn’t budge once he’s made up his mind, and I know better than to waste my breath. Instead, I nod, letting the matter drop. “All right. Seven it is.”
“Good,” he says, his tone final. He glances at Jade, his expression softening. “You’ll have more than enough to get through the storm, don’t worry.”
Jade nods, though I can see the tension still lingering in her posture. “Thanks, Ron. I really appreciate it.”
“Anytime,” he says with a small smile before heading back inside.
The three of us linger there for a moment, the silence stretching out between us. Tawny shifts her weight, her hands buried in her coat pockets, and I can feel Jade’s gaze flicking toward me again, cautious and calculating.
“Well,” Tawny says finally, breaking the silence. “Guess that’s that. We’ll see you tomorrow morning, Declan.”
“Looking forward to it,” I tell her awkwardly, though my focus is still on Jade. There’s something about her, something beneath the surface that I can’t quite put my finger on. She’s not just cautious; she’s on edge, like she’s waiting for something bad to happen. I know that feeling all too well, and I can’t help but be curious about her. Is she running from something too? If so, what is it?
Tawny nudges her friend gently. “Come on, Jade. I’ll get you a coffee and a piece of pie at the diner.”
Jade hesitates for a moment before nodding, her eyes lingering on me for just a second longer. Then she turns, following Tawny toward her car. I watch as they climb inside, the engine sputtering to life before they pull out of the lot and disappear down the road.
For a moment, I just stand there, the cold seeping through my gloves. My breath fogs in the air as I glance toward the tree line, the mountains rising like silent sentinels in the distance. I should probably head back to the cabin, but something about this whole exchange sticks with me.
I don’t know Jade. I don’t know her story or why she looks at people like she’s expecting them to turn on her. But I know what it’s like to carry a weight you can’t put down, to live with the kind of scars you can’t show anyone. And part of me wonders if that’s what I saw in her eyes.
Shaking off the thought, I climb into my truck and start the engine. The rumble fills the cab, a low, steady hum that drowns out the silence. As I pull out onto the road, I glance in the rearview mirror, half expecting to see her car still lingering in the distance. But the road behind me is empty, the snow-covered asphalt stretching out like a blank slate.
Tomorrow, I tell myself. Tomorrow, I’ll bring the wood and make sure she’s set for the storm and then I’ll let it go. Whatever her story is, it’s not my place to pry.
The drive back feels even longer than the drive down, the stillness of the snow-covered landscape pressing in around me. My mind keeps drifting back to Jade, her guarded expression, the way she looked at me like she was trying to decide whether I was friend or foe. She’s cautious, but not in the way most people are. Nowadays, more than ever, things are dangerous but with her, it’s deeper than that, more ingrained. Like she’s spent a long time learning how to survive by herself.
I pull into my driveway and cut the engine, letting the quiet settle around me. The cabin is just as I left it, a solitary structure tucked into the woods, the snow piling up around its edges. I grab the supplies from the bed of the truck and head inside, the warmth of the fireplace greeting me as I kick the door shut behind me.
The cabin is small but comfortable, everything I need and nothing I don’t. It’s a far cry from the life I used to live, but it suits me. Here, I’m just another guy in the mountains, a face no one remembers and a name no one asks about. It’s better that way.
I set the supplies on the kitchen counter and start unpacking, my movements automatic as my mind drifts. Ron’s voice echoes in my head. Seven sharp.
Why did I offer to help? I didn’t need to, and it’s not like I’m hurting for things to do. I’ve kept myself busy with remote programming work for all these years, and I like staying off the grid. A small part of me always worries that somehow one of these small-town folk will say something to the wrong person and Patrick will find me here.
It’s ridiculous, I know, but staying off of his radar has been my main goal these last few years, and I’m not in any hurry to change that. But there was something in Jade’s voice when she asked about the firewood, something vulnerable and unsure. Something that made me want to step in and rescue her.
Maybe it’s because I’ve been there. I know what it’s like to feel out of your depth, to wonder if you’re doing enough to keep the world from caving in around you. And if someone had offered to help me back then, maybe things would’ve turned out differently.
I must have run into her a handful of times before, must have seen her on one of my many stops through town in the past, and only noticed her today. The only thing remarkable about today was deciding that it was time to let the ghost of Cassidy move on. Does that mean I’m finally ready to notice someone else?
I push the thought aside and grab a beer from the fridge, the cold glass damp against my palm. I crack it open and take a long sip, letting the bitterness wash away the edge of my thoughts. The snow outside is falling heavier now, the flakes swirling in the wind as the storm starts to make its presence known.
Tomorrow. I’ll help with the firewood, make sure she’s set for the storm, and then go back to keeping my head down. It’s better that way. For both of us.