Chapter 18
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
They don’t know.
That’s the only thing I can think as the two men go about their day.
Deacon leaves first, grumpy and sleepy-eyed, for his shift at the Wolf Lake hospital that’s really more of an urgent care than anything fancy, according to him.
He bitches and complains all through breakfast, shoveling eggs and bacon down his throat while Fox takes turns making sure both of us eat and giving Deacon the sympathy he so clearly wants before leaving.
He kisses Fox. Long and sweet and sleepy, then comes over to me. I hesitate. He doesn’t. Deacon grabs my hair and pulls my head back for a kiss, my mouth drops open in a gasp that allows his tongue to lap at mine before he pulls away.
“See you both later,” he sighs out at last, already looking irritated and done with his day. “Or maybe I won’t. Maybe I’ll expire out there.” His sarcasm never seems to fade, no matter if he’s in a good mood or bad.
Fox only snickers as Deacon stomps out the front door, and when he cleans up the plates while waving away my help today, I tense and think he’s caught me. That this is the moment.
But he doesn’t know.
The key labeled back gate is burning a hole in my bra where it’s hidden, but Fox never even looks at me funny. He just walks into the kitchen, leaving me to my own devices.
I can’t go now. This might be my way out, but I’m not stupid enough to just run out the door and charge at the gate while he’s in the house.
Biting my lip, I sit at the dining table in my new-borrowed clothes for a few minutes, my fingers drumming on the wood while Fox hums the song he always seems to be listening to in his head.
Always is always, forever.
As long as one is one.
Inside yourself for your father,
All is none, all is none, all is one.
The words come back to me, even though I’ve only heard them once.
Somehow, they’re stuck in my head, playing there like an old, poorly tuned radio in Fox’s soft, sweet voice.
I feel like they barely make any sense, but then again, I’m not sure the person who wrote the song in the first place had an extra helping of sense either.
I wonder, suddenly, just how Fox learned it. And why. Sure, I bet I could look up the song on google if I had my phone—
That thought makes all of my pondering grind to an unpleasant halt.
Not one person has called, texted, or left a message.
When those words echo in my head, I suddenly wish the song was there instead.
Not one person has called, texted, or left a message.
Not one person has called—
Not one person.
Something inside me twists violently, and it feels like my ribs are cracking as they try to contain the hurt feelings inside of me. My fingers clench against the edge of the table, tears burning in my eyes. No one knows where I am.
But worse?
No one cares.
I’m on my feet before I can think about it, and my stiff legs take me to the back door.
I barely register my shoes sitting on the porch, looking cleaner than I remember but still rather unfortunate, before I’m in the grass and heading toward where Pearl is enjoying a bowl of meat that I refuse to identify.
“Well, at least one of us is enjoying their time here,” I whisper, sliding down to sit against the side of the house, well away from her.
While I love this dog more than I’ve ever loved an animal before, I don’t know her well enough to trust she won’t gnaw my arm off if I try to pet her while she’s eating.
The Rottweiler mix glances up at me, licking scraps off her muzzle, and for a moment I have the distinct thought that she’s calling me a liar.
“That doesn’t count,” I tell her, looking away as thoughts of last night flicker through my brain. The ache in my body is nothing if not pleasurable, and I can’t lie and say I didn’t enjoy it.
Fuck, I really enjoyed it. Both of them, their differences and their similarities. The way they—
No. Bad Sadie. I force myself to stop thinking about last night. It’s a dangerous line of thought and one that won’t get me through that back gate.
But what if they don’t want to kill you? A traitorous voice whispers in the back of my mind. What if they really do just want to keep you? Would that be so bad?
It would be, I promise. It would absolutely be awful and unimaginable.
I just…can’t figure out why right now.
Not one person has called, texted, or left a message—
“Fuck!” I thump my head back against the house’s whitewashed siding, eyes closing hard.
“Fuck, I cannot go down this path, Pearl. I just can’t.
I have a plan.” Not that I’m about to spill that plan out in the open when I don’t know who’s listening.
“I have a plan, a goal, a dream. Whatever. I know what I’m doing.
” I have to know what I’m doing, because if I don’t?
Then I really will start believing that staying wouldn’t be such an awful idea.
A wet nose on my arm startles me out of my cloudy thoughts, and I open my eyes to find Pearl done with her breakfast and standing in front of me with her poorly docked tail wagging.
She waits for me to notice, then shoves her face against me, a low, belligerent groan leaving her until I reach up with one hand to scratch her uninjured ear.
“You’re such a good girl,” I whisper. “But you know that, don’t you?
” When she moves to lick me, I pull away, grimacing.
“Okay, yes, I love you and all, but you just ate people meat, I think. So I’d like it if you maybe didn’t lick my face. ”
She persists, however, and before I can get away again, her wet tongue laps up my cheek, sending a tremor of disgust through my body as my face scrunches up with dislike.
“Oh, yep, there it is. Yeah, that smells awful,” I gasp.
“Thank you so much for that. I really wanted to smell like your breakfast. Fuck.” The smell fades, thank God, and within a few seconds, she’s flopped over on the ground, belly up for more love and attention.
Footsteps on the back porch—the telltale sound of Fox’s boots—wake me from my doze, and with a start, I realize that it’s late afternoon. Have I really slept the whole damn afternoon away?
Well, no, I remind myself groggily. I steered clear of Fox, which had been easy since he was on the phone so much this morning and in the upstairs office.
Every time I went back inside, I heard his boots pacing above me.
And I gave Pearl a bunch of love, though definitely not as much as a dog of her caliber is entitled to by law.
The sheriff stands over me as I blink blearily up at him, my eyes gritty from sleep and the heat. “Hi,” I croak, confused enough to just stare at him.
It doesn’t help that him looking down at me with that tilt of his head and a little curl of a smirk on his lips reminds me of last night.
How he kissed me
How he touched me.
How he—
“I have to go into town.” Thankfully cutting off my traitorous train of thought.
“I’ve been trying to avoid it. But…” He rolls his shoulders in an irritated shrug.
“Can’t help it. Anyway, there’s food in the fridge.
Potatoes and carrots from last night. Umm…
” He looks at me, thinking, seeming like he’s trying not to forget anything.
“Don’t burn down the house, I guess. You know everything’s locked, and…
” He throws a glance to the top of the large fences, all of which have barbed wire running across them.
“I get the message,” I promise, my knees drawn up to my chest.
His smile is sweet and brilliant and so goddamn charming that it almost has me fooled. “Good girl,” Fox praises approvingly, making something like guilt twist in my stomach.
It isn’t, though. Because I do not feel guilty about doing what I need to in order to fucking survive. I will not.
When he leans down, I tense, but it’s only so Fox can kiss the top of my head while brushing my hair back behind my ear.
“Don’t do anything stupid, Sadie-Rae,” he says with reluctance lacing his tone.
“I don’t need Deacon on the warpath or to come home to a mess to clean up after having to go into town to clean one up.
” I can hear the irritation in his words, and I look up at him suddenly.
“Are you going to be in danger?” I ask without thinking.
Fox, who’d been half turned to leave, stops, pivots, and looks at me with surprise in his dark brown eyes. “Why?”
I shake my head, suddenly self-conscious. “Call it curiosity.” The words come out snappy, brusque, and overall too defensive for me to feel okay with.
He chuckles, his grin turning a little wicked, and something dims in his eyes that makes my stomach plummet.
Did I disappoint him?
“Funny,” he drawls. “It almost sounded like concern. But you aren’t concerned about me, right?” He reaches out again to trail his fingers through my hair, and once again tucks it back behind my ear. “That would be absurd, Sadie-Rae.”
“Absurd,” I echo in agreement. “I was just—”
“Curious,” he finishes for me, dryly almost. “But to satisfy your curiosity, I think I’ll be just fine. I haven’t been shot by my own deputies yet. And no wayward traffic stop has succeeded in runnin’ me over. Well…” His grin grows sly. “Not badly enough that Deacon can’t fix me up.”
He stares at me for a moment longer, like he’s waiting for something. Like the words on my tongue that are locked behind my teeth are going to free themselves, or as though I might admit I’m just slightly, very minutely, concerned.
But I don’t say it. I don’t wish him good luck.
Or tell him to be safe.
Fox gives me a mock salute and turns, going back across the old porch and inside once more.
The door closes behind him with a finality that I associate with my plan, instead of something else.
And as I listen, his truck revs, the engine loud as it drinks in diesel, before fading away as he heads down the driveway.
I’m not concerned, I remind myself. No, if anything?
I’m excited.
My fingers tremble, and I cannot believe even for a moment that I’ve been presented with this kind of opportunity. The idea that I can get away so easily is insane. I expected to have to wait for days. Maybe even weeks for this kind of opportunity.
With my shoes finally back on, I don’t have to creep around barefoot, thank God. For a moment, I consider going up to their room, his office, and everywhere else in the house to paw around for my phone. It has to be here somewhere, after all, for Fox to know that no one—
That’s not important, I chastise. I don’t need that, and I won’t waste time hunting for a weapon when the best I’ll find is a fork. Somehow they always manage to hide the cutlery and anything else with stabbing potential, so it would be a waste of my time to go looking.
More than that, I have no idea when Deacon will be back, and I don’t want to press my luck.
He’s been gone at least eight hours, I wager, and without knowing how long his shifts are, I can’t take any chances.
With it being late afternoon now, I know I can’t have too much time before he’s off work and home.
My hands fumble at the collar on Pearl’s neck, and I find the clasp keeping her tethered to her half of the yard. The line and the heavy clip on the end thump to the ground; out of routine, Pearl trots up the stairs to the porch, waiting by the door.
“No,” I whisper, getting to my feet. “No, that’s not where we’re going.
Come on.” Without hesitating, I stride past the gardens, past both workshops, until I’m at the back of the large yard and the padlocked gate.
The key now in my hand feels heavy, and warm from my body heat, as I shove it into the lock, I hold my breath.
What if this isn’t the right key?
But the padlock clicks open before I can panic, and with just a light push, the tall gate creaks open outward.
To my surprise, Pearl isn’t the first one out. I look down, expecting to see her at my legs, before turning to see that she’s still on the porch, with her eyes fixed on me. When she sees me looking, she wags her stubby tail, one paw up and scratching at the doorframe.
“No,” I call to her. “Come on. We have to leave, girl.”
She whines, the sound pathetic and whistling. Her paw goes up to scrape against the wood of the frame, I’m pretty sure chipping off some paint this time, and she even barks at me, like I’m the one misunderstanding our purpose here.
But I can’t leave her…right? I don’t want to leave her. She’s quickly become one of my few remaining friends on this planet, and I need her.
“Please,” I whisper, waiting for her to look at me again. God, I’m going to cry if this dog doesn’t come with me. I can already feel the burn of tears in my eyes, and my vision seems to go a little blurry at the edges. “Please, Pearl. Don’t make me go alone.”
She still hesitates, and I’m about ready to give up when Pearl hops off the porch and heads toward me through the yard. She makes it known, however, that this isn’t her favorite option, by stopping to sniff just about every sniffable object on the way.
“Thank you,” I tell her, reaching out to stroke a hand along her back as she passes me. “I can’t offer you human organs when we get back to Nashville, but I’ll introduce you to rabbit and chicken, beef, pork—whatever.”
Because she will come back to Nashville with me, realistic expectations be damned. I don’t care how many vaccines or health tests I need to get done so it’s okay for her to be in my apartment with me.
I don’t care how many times I have to walk her.
I fucking love this dog, and I will not let her stay behind.
Even if she’s happier here? That nasty little voice whispers in my skull, almost too quietly for me to hear.
So I ignore it, pretending it was just the wind, while closing the gate behind me and shoving the key back into my bra. Now all I have to do, I tell myself silently while looking at the expanse of farmland in front of me, is make it back to town.
And then, finally, I can find a way home.