Chapter 4
Fawnie
I’ve been reading up on golden retriever and black cat energy. I’m not sure I fully understand what makes a person either, unless it’s the moment. You can be a black cat one day, or one hour, or one moment, and be a golden retriever the next. Maybe it’s all bullshit.
It’s possible that I’ve been thinking about this for too long.
It took me a little over a week to convince Loreena to ask Maverick for Shadow’s address.
In the end, he wouldn’t give it to her, but he did drop some hints about the color of the house and what it may or may not look like.
Hart isn’t that big, and with the tools available to even regular people like me, I was able to find it.
It helped that Shadow owns a bike. I had a list of eight houses that matched the color and description, and I drove around for days creeping them, but only one had a bike parked under an overhang carport.
I’m sure I’m at the right place.
I know from my dad that Shadow works nights. I thought the best plan of action, if I can use the word best, would be to head over to his house in the early evening, hide myself by the carport, and wait for him to come out.
It’s not a good plan. It’s intrusive, invasive, and rude. It’s exactly what I promised my dad I wouldn’t do. Sort of.
I’ve made an agreement with myself. I’ve found a good hiding spot where I can observe Shadow when he leaves. If he appears fine, then I’ll leave and never bother him again. If he’s hurt in any way, I need to…
I don’t know.
I guess I need to do something.
A crow swoops down from the trees lining the cracked concrete driveway to land on the metal roof of the carport.
It makes little clanging noises as it jumps about.
The sun set hours ago, but this isn’t the first time the bird has done this.
It’s been with me this whole time. At least when it was still evening and the sun glinted off the metal roof, I could understand the bird’s fascination.
Having it come back at night feels a little bit ominous.
It could be that Shadow feeds the birds in his yard and they like being around. I could imagine him doing it, bringing out seed at night to fill the bird feeders, and probably the squirrel feeders too. Maybe he makes those fun puzzle feeders for smart birds like crows and ravens.
I’m way overthinking all of this and shouldn’t be here.
At all.
The crow gives a squawk and flies off in a woosh of flapping wings, right before the side door of the house opens.
Darned birds are smart.
I’ve been crouched in this position for hours. My legs are numb and the rest of me is past uncomfortable, but all of that is forgotten as an instant adrenaline rush spikes through my blood.
A dark clad figure steps outside.
Holy shit, he’s tall. Taller than I remember. Broader too. Shadow was twenty-one when he saved me from the fire, I guess in the five years that passed he’s filled out.
He turns around to lock the door, giving me a full view of the bowed angel on the back of his vest. My gaze quickly travels down to his rock hard ass in worn jeans.
He’s wearing heavy biker boots like my dad does.
Nothing is weird about his appearance except that he already has a black helmet with a full dark visor on, as well as gloves. A black bandana hangs at his neck.
It’s summer. A warm night. Why the gloves? Why come out of the house with the helmet already on? Sure, a bandana is great to cut a cold wind, but is it actually all that cold riding on a night sticky with humidity?
There’s a good chance that I’m way overthinking this.
I promised my dad and I promised myself that I’d leave if there was nothing weird going on. My gut is all cramped up, and that alone feels wrong.
It’s the last thing I should do, but I act on instinct alone.
I get up, ignoring the pain and tingles that spread through my legs as my muscles protest angrily.
I’m also dressed entirely in black, but I put my hair up in a messy bun and I’m wearing sneakers.
I didn’t want my nefarious actions to be obvious if a neighbor saw me.
I look like I’m going out for a run. Or to burglarize a house…
I race around the carport and before Shadow can start the bike, though he is straddling it, I walk over to stand directly behind it. I cross my arms like I mean business, though on the inside, I’m trembling. I can barely breathe.
Five years.
Five years of wondering, of dreaming, of searching, of thinking about this man, and he’s right here. Very real. No longer a shadow at all.
His head turns, catching the flash of my movement. His hand shoots to the small round mirror on the bike and he adjusts it, tilting it so he can see me.
He gets off the bike so fast that it’s like watching a cat turn around. All lithe agility. He plants his feet wide and stares me down, hands balled into fists at his side. He doesn’t take the helmet off or lift the visor.
He stares me down, silently. Ominously.
My heart races so fast that I feel half-sick with it. It leaps right into my throat, choking me. I figure I have two minutes before Shadow disappears back into the house, locks me out, and calls my dad.
This is a mess. I’ve made it. I need to clean it up. It’s pointless starting with a friendly greeting. I’ve gone too far for that. I’ve got one chance to make him listen. One chance, and that’s it.
Shadow crosses his arms. His leather jacket parts, revealing a black t-shirt that rides up just a little over hard abs. A golden sliver of skin is illuminated by the carport’s lights and the security light mounted further back, on the corner of the house.
“I’ve had this hole,” I blurt stupidly, tearing my eyes away from that tiny bit of exposed skin that feels so vulnerable.
Nice. Great way to introduce yourself. “It’s a you sized hole,” I quickly correct.
“It’s been there since the night of the fire.
I don’t know why you won’t see me, but I want you to know I’m not here for pity or gratitude.
” I stupidly hold out a hand, like I want him to step forward and grasp it. “How about friendship?”
In one swift movement. Shadow tears off his helmet.
His shoulders heave as the light shines right on his face, revealing dark, closely cropped hair.
The scars run down the side of his face, disappearing into his collar.
His face is a masterpiece, even though his jaw is clenched so tightly that the shiny skin on the scarred side locks up, giving his face an uneven tilt.
He has a strong nose, a deep brow, long, thick lashes, and the darkest eyes.
I don’t remember the golden specks from the night of the fire, but it could be the way the light is shining on him.
He stabs one gloved hand up to the scarred side of his face. “You’ve come,” he growls. “You’ve seen me. You’ve sated your curiosity. I don’t want friendship.”
He slams his helmet onto the seat of his bike, turns, and walks to the door. He jams the key so roughly into the lock that I’m shocked it doesn’t snap off. He bangs noisily into the house, pulling the door shut so hard behind him that the whole building rattles.
I’m frozen. Stupidly.
What have I done? Is Shadow calling my dad right now? Why is that the first thing that keeps coming to mind? This isn’t about my dad. Not at heart. It’s about what I owe this man. I was right. I sensed he was hurt, and I was correct, but what have I done to him coming here like this?
I’m doing my frantic panic breathing when the door opens so swiftly that it bangs against the side of the house with nothing to catch it.
Shadow steps out, a black duffel bag looped over his shoulder.
He’s no longer wearing his leather vest. He has a plain black hoodie on.
An old ballcap hides his face, and he’s left the leather gloves and biker boots on.
He walks right past the bike.
Strides past me as if I’m not standing here. He doesn’t turn his head or spare a look for me or anything. I might as well not exist.
He storms down the driveway, making quick work of it with his long legs, veers right at the end of it, and starts down the sidewalk.
I have no idea what’s happening, but saying that I don’t have a good feeling about this is the understatement of understatements since the word understatement was invented.
I swallow thickly, trying to push the gut wrenching anxiety back down. My pulse still beats so wildly at my throat that it practically smothers me.
I only hesitate long enough to tell myself that this isn’t a situation that I can fix. I should accept that and go home, call my dad, confess what I’ve done, and—
What?
Call it a day? A night? A life?
I can’t fix this, but I can’t do that either.
By the time I get to the end of the driveway, Shadow is halfway down the block. I run after him, fully expecting him to break into a run and keep running until he loses me.
Surprisingly, he doesn’t. I fall in beside him, panting from the short run. It’s not that I’m out of shape, but I was having trouble catching my breath since I saw him come out of the house. And for the past week before that.
“What are you doing?” I gasp out.
I’m sure he’s not going to answer me. He’ll keep his face turned to the front and pretend I’m not here, or he’ll look right through me like he did earlier.
Maybe he thinks that answering me will make me go away faster. Whatever his thoughts, he answers me with one word spat through clenched teeth. “Leaving.”
“What?” I gasp, and not solely because I’m out of breath. “Like for good? Why?”
“Because I liked my life the way it was,” he snaps. “About as uncomplicated as it got. I told your dad this would happen.”
“What would happen? That I’d try and meet you?” My eyes shoot straight to the duffel. I have no right to anger. It’s mostly shock that heats my blood up. “You’re bugging out like it’s the end of the world or the zombie apocalypse because of me?”
“I’d be right at home with the zombies,” he sneers.