Chapter 4
ABIGAIL
My things were secured in the pickup bed. Elias packed a small cooler with water, healthy snacks, and a giant pickle. Last night was something to behold. He drove us to his home two miles from his shop and showed me around like a drill sergeant indoctrinating his new cadets.
”Here is the bathroom. You”ll sleep here. Breakfast at seven. We”re out the door by seven-thirty. Any questions?”
Yeah. l had a few. He marched himself into his bedroom and shut the door. No ”need anything?” or ”help yourself to whatever you want.” Nope, none of the above. I”ve made it my life”s work to blend into any surroundings, and this won”t be any different. I had already grabbed my backpack filled with what I needed for the night. I stayed in my clothes, brushed my teeth and hair, and rebraided it for the night. The dark blue leather recliner sat across from a sixty-inch television mounted above a rustic wood mantel. That would be my resting spot for the night. I would stay alert, mostly, and not give him the option to join me on his couch. It did look comfy, though. A wide cushion covered in an equally wide blue plaid with giant tufted pillows lined up along the back would be enough room for me to sprawl out on. The rest of the room was between Early American and Bachelor Hand-Me-Down decor. It fit Elias. Big, soft, rugged, and thoughtful.
I grabbed a hand-knitted afghan and threw it over my small frame as I pushed back into the recliner, grateful for a safe place to sleep tonight. At least, I hoped it would be safe. It”s much safer than sleeping in my car, for sure. I played on my phone and scanned my emails, hoping to find a message from Seneca or my aunt. Both needed my attention once I got settled. The only exciting information was from that attorney informing me of my inheritance.
I hope you have arrived safely in Mystic, Abigail. This is a reminder that you have until five tomorrow night to claim your property. Should you have any difficulties or need anything explained, please call my direct number below, and I”ll get it straightened out immediately. I should have mentioned earlier that twenty thousand dollars is in your trust to help you get on your feet. Please spend it wisely.
Best wishes. Henry Brickner, Esq.
”Holy shit!” I screamed, smacking a hand over my mouth—finally, a port in an ocean of shit. I suppose Elias, too, was a port. I laughed out loud, more like a hyena. I was in shock, wrapping my head around this new information. I closed out of my email and started to get up to do a happy dance.
”What”s wrong?”
I jumped out of the chair like it was on fire.
”Jesus Christ, Elias! You can”t sneak up behind me like that. You scared me to death!” I struggled to control my breathing while he laughed through his big chest.
”You didn”t hear my door opening or the floorboards creaking as I walked across the room? Or the light being turned on? You do get engrossed in your thoughts and tune everything out, don”t you?” He said it in the most lighthearted way I almost missed his sarcasm. I was warming up to his soft-spoken speech, and it was unsettling. My aunt started speaking to me sweetly when I went to live with her at four. By eight, her tone held annoyance, and, by twelve, it became accusing, like I was trying to be an asshole. High school was a disaster, and, quite frankly, I was happy to move out two weeks after graduation just to be rid of the anxiety she caused in me.
I paced the floor, pondering how much of my condition and situation I should share with him. It had to be something substantial, or he”d think I was a Looney tune.
”I suppose I should mention that I have ADHD, and that has something to do with my responses.” I slid back onto the chair, curling my legs underneath me. He walked around to the couch I coveted and squatted deeply until he was low enough to rest his ass.
After leaning back, with his arms crossed—yet relaxed—he reached up and stroked his beard again. ”Yeah, that would explain a few things. My cousin has ADD. He takes medication. Better living through chemistry, I say. He would have been miserable and friendless for the rest of his life if it weren”t for his meds.”
I burst into tears, hanging my head in shame. Streams of water left my eyes, and all I could think of was how pathetic I was. ”I-I”m miserable and friendless!” I screamed. My logical self needed to sleep—like the dead kind of sleep. I couldn”t think clearly, and everything Elias said seemed like a minefield of emotions going off like fireworks, except his face stayed unaffected.
”I”m sorry. I shouldn”t have yelled. I need some sleep.” I reached under myself, pulled the blanket around me, and closed my eyes. I decided that keeping my new fortune to myself would be smarter. I didn”t know this man and didn”t want to be taken advantage of if he knew. Maybe if I kept my eyes closed, he would turn off the lights and disappear. Instead, I felt him lean over me, kiss my forehead, and whisper encouragement.
”You”ve been under a lot of stress. Everything will work out; just be patient.”
His footsteps made a significant noise as he crossed the room and turned off the lights. The sound carried down a short hallway toward the kitchen, where I heard the pipes lightly bang and water fall into a glass. Moments later, through my slitted eyes, I saw him carrying two glasses of water. He set one on a coaster for me while taking the other back to his room.
Who was this guy? Something about him felt so familiar. His mannerisms were comforting and gentle, like those of a grandfather or dear uncle. The way he moved and shood affection made my heart flutter. Was it affection, though? You would think he knew me, too, the way he kissed my head, held my wrists, and looked at me. He looked at me, not through me. So strange. I must have passed out because I was on the couch covered in a thick fleece blanket when I woke up. He didn”t . . . he couldn”t have . . . I shook my head, waking up to the sun peeking through the curtain and over some trees. I was too consumed with the smell of coffee. The mystery of how I got on the couch was forgotten.
ELIAS
This girl slept like the dead. An hour after she tripped out about not having friends and being miserable, I walked out to check on her before crashing for the night myself. I carefully scooped her into my arms and settled her onto the sofa that would allow her to be more comfortable all night. I fetched a pillow from the hall closet and a heavier blanket to help her sleep deeper. From my cousin Dell”s mom, I learned about the benefits of heavy bedding on light sleepers. It changed Dell”s sleep immediately for the better. Luckily, I didn”t hear a peep out of her until two minutes ago.
She entered the kitchen, rubbing her eyes and mumbling. I took a chance and grabbed a mug off the counter, filled it with coffee, and handed it to her.
”Creamer is in the fridge, and sugar is on the table,” I offered. ”I wasn”t sure what kind of breakfast eater you were, but I”m happy to fix you some eggs or pancakes.” She stopped rubbing and gave me big hazel eyes that looked like a deer in headlights.
”Did you say pancakes?” Her hopeful grin was precious.
”Yep.” I walked to the pantry to grab the mix. ”Want anything in them?” I waggled my brows, tempting her to share her favorite toppings.
She took two steps forward, holding her mug and bringing it to her full lips. ”Chocolate chips? Cinnamon? Syrup?”
I grinned, enjoying her shoulder shrug and tip of her chin toward the cupboard I had my hand in.
”I”ve got you. Get yourself cleaned up, and I”ll have these ready in ten minutes. We have to leave soon, and I have a few chores to do before we go.”
Without a word, she spun on her heel and glided out of the kitchen, hands still wrapped around that mug. I wanted to be that mug. The rim, the cup, the handle. All of it, so long as her hands and mouth were on it. How long had it been since I was with a woman? No date came to mind, so too long was the answer. Abigail was a girl. Not more than eighteen, by my calculations. I”m over twice her age, and I had lustful thoughts about her. For my mental health, I”m going to blame these feelings on that weird dream and too many months of not being with a woman. I had enough issues to invite unappreciated affection from an unsuspecting person. Though she didn”t seem annoyed about the kiss on her head last night or wiping some hamburger juice off her supple cheek. See! There I go again. Stop!
Forty minutes later, we were on the road, ready for what I hoped would be a great adventure. I hadn”t closed the shop for over three days since I bought it five years ago. My life as a mechanical engineer was too stressful. I had always wanted to work on cars and not much else. When the opportunity came up, I jumped on it and never looked back. My parents weren’t too happy. Leaving a six-figure career didn”t bother me as much as it did them. Did they think I would be back with my hand outstretched for a loan? Or worse, be sleeping on their sofa for an indeterminate time? I saved over half of what I made from the previous ten years to change my career, and I was known to be a bit of a savant regarding the stock market. At least, that”s what my broker called me. That”s how I could afford to buy this service station and start fixing cars without a mortgage. Not too bad for a country guy.
”Elias!” I slammed on the brakes. ”What? Are you alright,” I panted. I carefully pulled the pickup over to the side of the expressway and looked deeply into her eyes.
”Am I alright? Are you okay? Your eyes were glazed over, and I thought you were having an embolism.” She had both hands on my forearm, patting it all over for what appeared to be a pulse.
”Are you trying to find my pulse?” She nodded vigorously. I tried not to laugh outright, but this girl was hilarious in her attempts to ”help” me. ”Sweetheart.” I cupped one of her hands and squeezed two fingers together, placing them on the underside of my wrist. ”Here. This is where you find a pulse.”
The look in her eyes made me sad as if she didn”t know what to do. I touched the space just below her ear and exhaled audibly. ”And here.”
Her lids drooped, and her breathing hitched. Christ. I had affected her. She affected me. This needs to stop. I pulled my head back abruptly.
”These are called pulse points. You count how many times your heart pulses in sixty seconds to know how fast it beats.” I shifted my head away and looked over my left shoulder to see if the traffic was clear for re-entry.
Abigail spent the next few minutes putting her fingers at each pulse point to ensure I wasn”t fooling her. ”You”re right. You can measure the beats. How do you know so much about this stuff?”
Good question. ”I don”t know. I remembered it from a high school health class or a doctor”s show. It”s basic stuff.”
She laughed. ”I guess I missed that whole class. I don”t have a TV, so—oops! —I missed that, too.”
I was getting annoyed with her self-deprecating comments. It didn”t help her, and it didn”t feel good to hear her saying those things about herself.
”I tell you what. Let”s play a game.” She nodded, thinking this was a terrific idea.
”What kind of game?” Her lips pressed together, concerned.
”It goes like this: every time you say something negative about yourself, you put a quarter in this cup.” I held up an old water cup from a fast-food place I hadn”t thrown away.
”Why?” She said hesitantly.
I shook my head as I spelled this out for her. ”I”m tired of you putting yourself down. I”m sure you have amazing talents and exciting experiences that would be more interesting to me or anyone else instead of tearing yourself down.”
”So, you”re saying that I”m annoying, and you don”t want to be around me anymore.” She harumphed and threw herself back in her seat, crossing her arms around her pert breasts. Not fair. I tried again.
”No. That isn”t what I”m saying. Let me try again. If I called myself weak, you would think I was being ridiculous, right?” She nodded her head. ”That”s different than I”m feeling weak today. Do you see the difference?” Her pink lips pushed forward as she drilled her stare through my windshield.
”Abigail. Are you mad at me? I only want you to see that your words matter and say a lot about how you think about yourself.” She huffed again. ”I think a lot about you and like what I see.” Her smile bloomed.
”So, you think about me a lot, do you?” Her arms uncrossed, and she pivoted in her seat, raising her left knee near the center column.
I felt my face flush. Why couldn”t I say things without embarrassing myself? ”I meant to say that you are different, and I like that about you.” Oh my God. Words! I need to find better words. I sound like I”m in love with her. Geez.
”So, I”m different, huh? Like weird different? Embarrassing different?” Her eyebrows ruffled, and she glared at me like the imbecile I was.
Wait. Did she giggle? She didn”t. She did!
”You”re pulling my leg, aren”t you? You”re naughty.” I said the word, and my dick vibrated at the possibility of that statement.
”Me? I”ve never done a naughty thing in my life!” She burst out laughing, and so did I. This was fun. She was fun. What kind of fun could we have in the next three hours left of our trip?