Chapter 14 #2
Soon, steam escaped from the spout, a sign that the coffee was brewing and rising to the top. The air filled with its rich aroma, and I felt a shiver of anticipation. The Beaumonts, myself included, were obsessed with coffee in any form.
“I wouldn’t know what ‘gym bros’ call it,” he disparaged. “But sure, cold plunge and bath. That’s how I clean up out here.”
I grumbled, recalling our conversation last night and how there wouldn’t be warm showers in my future. “So you said yesterday. Does this mean I’ll be stuck sponge-bathing forever, like some old lady in a nursing home?” I asked.
His grin returned, and I wasn’t against it; his face had this special way of lighting up the entire space with that smile. “Unless you want to try a cold plunge, then yeah, sponge bath it is.” He shrugged. “You should try the river, though. Who knows, you might like it.”
I scoffed hard and loud. “No way. A sponge bath is fine, thank you. But… I’m making you wash my hair. You said you would, after all.”
Another grin graced his lips before he turned to the refrigerator and took out a pitcher. “Milk?”
I tilted my head in question. “Don’t tell me you have a cow somewhere.”
He laughed. “No cow. Powdered milk, I’m afraid. It’s actually pretty good. The farm supply store back in town stocks a decent local brand.”
My eyebrows shot up. I never imagined I’d be stirring reconstituted powdered milk into coffee and brewing it off-grid in the Canadian wilderness. Yet, here I was; new experiences were abounding.
I was Wilderness Betty Beaumont now, and this was a whole new frontier.
He tilted the pitcher of milk from side to side in question.
“Um… sure?” I agreed.
He grabbed a mug, poured the coffee from the Moka pot, and added the milk. He strode across the expanse between us and handed it to me, and I brought it to my lips, taking a sip without a second thought.
I moaned instantly, without meaning to.
My body was deprived of caffeine after being drugged and kidnapped for two days. And damn… that powdered milk was good. I already knew this would be the first of many cups today. I needed to refuel.
“Breakfast?” he asked.
With the cup glued to my lips like a lifeline, I nodded. My stomach felt insatiable after having gone without food for so long, too. I was a literal glutton and needed to make up for lost time.
Standing from the bed, I shifted into the kitchen and leaned against the counter, putting myself in the center of his workspace as he moved back and forth between the kitchen and the stove.
He retrieved more eggs, like we had last night, and some of the leftover pan-fried potato wedges we didn’t finish from the fridge.
“Bacon?” he added.
I nodded big.
I could tell he enjoyed feeding me, just like my older brother did. Nash loved to spoil me with home-cooked food, never letting me go hungry if he could help it. It would be foolish of me to deny a man the chance to feed his people.
Unbidden, a glimpse of the future flashed before my eyes: him making piles of bacon and pancakes for a crowd of kids. I couldn’t shake the image, especially since all the children looked so much like him and me.
Warmth pooled in my gut at the thought. It felt so cozy and right that it should have scared the pants off me, but I felt my lips curl into a smile instead.
I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to shake the daydream.
Gray was quiet for a bit, lining up his ingredients on the kitchen counter. His expression soon changed into one of contemplation before he finally spoke again, “Would you like to talk about it?”
‘It’ being the attack and the subsequent aftermath. I hardened my expression. “No,” I grumbled into my mug.
Gray pressed his lips together and nodded.
I sighed, dropping the mug onto the counter. “I’m still mad, Gray. Just because I seem pleasant right now doesn’t mean I’ve forgiven you or processed any of it. I’m just trying to survive, one minute at a time here, okay?”
“Clearly,” he murmured.
I felt my anger sharpen at that. “You kidnapped me, asshole. And I don’t trust you, and won’t trust you ever again.
I get you had righteous intentions, but you could have done a better job warning me before barging in at the last possible minute and stealing me away.
How the hell did you get into my townhome so fast, anyway? ”
He didn’t look at me as he said, “I was on your roof.”
My mouth fell open. “On the roof?!” I wanted to pace, but there wasn’t room. “Why?!”
I could tell he was getting frustrated. “Look, my family is a dangerous bunch, Betty.” He was brandishing a knife, slicing the bacon in half.
“They’ve got a lot of enemies, and plenty of people are keeping tabs on them—including me.
When I heard you were being followed, I didn’t put a whole lot of thought into it before leaping to your aid. ”
I probably shouldn’t be picking a fight with a morally gray man alone in the woods while he held a knife, yet here I was, doing just that.
There was a hint of guilt swirling in my gut. I was berating him when he was trying to help. Even so, he could have done a better job with the entire thing.
“I get you wanted to keep me safe, I do,” I said. “But I would have preferred we’d approached this as a team.”
I could tell that only frustrated him further. “I’m not really accustomed to doing things as a team, Betty,” he gestured around the cabin. “I’m not perfect.”
“I don’t want you to be perfect, Gray,” I spat back.
No one is perfect.
We were both silent for some time as he chopped up some onions and other vegetables.
A modicum calmer, I eventually tried again, unable to help it. “So you were on my roof… Did you plant new cameras in my house again? Obviously, you were inside,” I pointed to where Villy lay. “Case in point.”
“No,” his reply was sharp.
“Look me in the eye and say that,” I shot back.
He looked up from the cutting board, his expression dead serious. “No, I did not install any new cameras.” He moved around me to the stove and began frying the bacon.
I huffed, still annoyed that he’d been on my roof. I turned on the stool so I could face in his direction. “But you were camping on my roof, Gray. That’s still weird!” I lashed out to slap him on the back, launching off the stool.
He dodged away with a flourish, sensing it coming with greasy tongs at the ready, using them as a shield. “I wanted to protect you,” he justified. “And what better way than on the roof with 360-degree views of any incoming danger.”
“Why, Gray? Why?” I growled.
He looked flustered again, but also amused. “You know why,” he retorted, a typical, cliché response.
My art of avoiding relationships and anything resembling the L-word flared, and I went silent.
I moved to the front of the cabin, Gray circling back to the bacon. Arms crossed against my chest, I peered out the large picture window at the river. One of those weasel-like animals was on a rock, gnawing on something. I found calm as I watched him.
A pine marten, I think Gray called it. He’d named it Larry. Villainy approached beside me and sat, watching Larry as intently as I was, and pressing his nose against the glass.
Bacon sizzled, and I could hear Gray eventually fiddle with the Moka pot again.
It wasn’t long before the rich smell of more coffee reached my nostrils.
Not soon after, a steaming mug appeared before me.
I took it, though begrudgingly. I would not allow him to break me with proffered gifts of caffeine.
“I want to talk to Nash,” I whispered, taking a sip.
Gray’s voice was flat and simple when he said, “No.”
God, was ‘no’ the only word he knew right now? I clenched my teeth. “Please?” I implored.
“He’s safe, Betty. Everyone is safe. I have the best people watching over your family.”
“The best people,” I mocked.
“FBI,” he added. Did he just play his trump card?
I narrowed my eyes and turned my face toward his beside me, “FBI?”
He nodded. “My uncle won’t touch your father as long as he knows the FBI is watching him in New York. Nash and Sybil will be safe, too. Listen, I don’t expect you to trust me, but if you could try to trust me on this one thing, please make that effort.”
My jaw clenched. FBI. It made me feel a little better, but not much. Plenty of mob murders still happened under the protection of the FBI. It was a hard ask to trust him, and not something I felt able to do.
“Worst case, I’ll turn myself in, Betty. If they catch anyone you care about in retaliation, I’ll do whatever it takes to protect you and your family. That is my only goal in all of this, and my chance to make things right.” His expression was so sincere it was almost unsettling.
Searching his eyes, I struggled. This was my family. They were the most important people in the world. How could I just relax right now? What kind of person would do that when so much was at stake?
“Please,” he whispered.
I bit my inner cheek. I had my phone, and hopefully, I could do something with it. Maybe I could get some signal if I moved around the yard a bit. I could be subtle about it and do it before the battery died. The right moment was all I needed.
I changed the subject abruptly, done with this entire conversation. “You have a woodpecker.”
He blinked a few times, not expecting that. “A woodpecker?” He glanced down at his crotch.
I fought back a laugh. “No, Gray. A bird. A woodpecker bird. He’s ruining your work,” I added.
Gray grunted and sighed, dropping his head in defeat. “Thank you, but he’s fine. He’s hammering into a dummy piece of wood I placed there. He’s not hurting anything.”
He strode back to the stove, walking away from any further conversation.
Tongs in hand, he removed the bacon and poured the grease out of the pan and into a container he’d extracted from the fridge that was already half full of bacon grease.
He probably kept it to use for cooking, much like the fat he used last night.
He cracked eggs into the pan and quickly fried them in the remaining grease, then poured himself a second cup of coffee.
I moved back to the kitchen, not wanting to be perceived as a pouting little child in the corner.
When the eggs were done, he handed me a plate of food. “I’ve got you, Betty. Okay? We aren’t losing anyone. I promise.”
His stare flayed me open, leaving me raw and vulnerable to his words. I was used to being in control, knowing all the dangers, and managing them. It was not comfortable having to put that trust and control in the hands of another, especially when it was this important.
I gave him a slight nod, and he let go of the plate. I set it down on the counter, plucking up a piece of bacon and nibbling on it, trying to absorb his words, but they wouldn’t sink in. As much as I wanted to be on the same side, I just couldn’t cross that bridge.
I had to talk to Nash, and I had to leave.