26. Chapter 26
Chapter twenty-six
Shelby
I’m expecting Cason to politely decline because he’s been itching to get to his parent’s cabin for days. So why do I get the feeling he’s not just asking Lottie questions to be polite and what does that mean?
“Not exactly sure who survived but I can confirm that old man Hutchins and his wife are gone,” Lottie says. “They came over the other day and we had to put them down. That’s how Harry hurt his ankle.”
I follow her gaze to Harry who’s gazing at me with a weird grin. Mustering a wan smile, I turn away as Lottie says, “Don’t worry dear. You just have the look of our granddaughter. Katie was a pretty girl.”
When she winks, I chuckle but her words remind me of my own parents, and I hide a shiver that rolls down my spine.
“No one has to decide anything today but I’m hoping you’ll stay the night, and I can show you around the farm?” Lottie says and Larry looks at Cason. When the others follow suit, Lottie says, “I think you deserve a home cooked meal, right Harry?”
After a moment, Cason slowly nods and says, “We would appreciate the meal, ma’am.”
“Oh shoo, I’m no ma’am, kiddo. Right Harry?” she says.
“Uh,” Harry stutters and Lottie gestures for us to follow with Cason taking the lead. He’s back to avoiding my gaze but is that because he’s in another mood or to avoid the questions no doubt shining in my eyes?
After a tour of the house in which Lottie showed us the three rooms above the stairs, two facing the field we originally saw Lottie in while the last faces the trees surrounding the backyard, we stop at the remaining extra room below where she says, “It’ll be dark soon.
We’d be happy to have you as our guests. ”
She raises her brows before turning to Cason, the obvious leader of our group. When he merely nods without asking any of us, my suspicions deepen.
“Good. Good,” she says, clapping her hands. “Maybe the ladies would like to take advantage of the facilities?”
With the first trickle of excitement I’ve felt since we arrived, I can’t contain my nod to which Lottie chuckles and points the way.
Apparently, the house uses water from a well, a boon because eventually it may not be as plentiful in the tap as it is now.
Once we've paired off to gather our things, Nora and I get first access to the bathroom, and I watch with a kernel of unease as Cason and the other guys follow Lottie out the backdoor.
What’s he thinking? I’m almost afraid to ask.
Either way, it doesn’t matter right this second and I set it aside to enjoy the first shower I’ve had in days.
I take my time rinsing the dirt and grime clean, assessing the tender areas and bruises still painting my skin from Ben’s brutal treatment.
This combined with my efforts to survive has left a Rorschach of colors across my body that ache with every swipe of the cloth.
To my delight, I find a razor in one of the drawers and remove the fuzz growing on my legs. With clothes provided by Lottie, I feel almost normal while I comb my hair before pulling it back into two thick French braids.
Nora takes my place in the bathroom and after informing me to leave my used clothes in the room that we’ll be sharing under the stairs, I search out the other members of the group.
The two girls chose a room above the stairs and with them, Nate and Lance and Jason and Larry respectively will be joining them. That leaves Cason who volunteered to sleep on the couch. Why?
I’m not able to ask him because he’s standing by the tree line with Jason and before I can exit, Lottie says behind me, “I could use a hand in the kitchen.”
I can hardly decline her request and my mouth waters when I step into the kitchen, and the smell of grilled burgers reaches my nose.
To my surprise, I spy baked beans bubbling in a pan beside them. With a jar of canned green beans as a side, it’s a regular sit-down meal that leaves me feeling strangely discombobulated when I join Zoey and Amanda setting the table.
It’s so freaking normal, albeit weird to do such mundane things that I relax into the activities and find myself humming under my breath.
All too soon, the sun starts to set, and the guys reappear. I look them over carefully while they wash their hands at the sink before sitting down at the table, however I see no indication that they’ve come to some decision about our stay.
To be fair, I probably wouldn’t know the difference anyway. Cason’s moods seem to fluctuate between dour and dourer.
After poor Harry is wheeled to his room Lottie returns with a bright smile, and I worry for the woman who’s trying to do this all alone. She has a point. It’s not like we can ransack stores forever.
Eventually we have to find a place to land but, in my mind, I guess I envisioned Cason’s family cabin as that place. Now I don’t know but I wish that I could guess what the enigmatic man is thinking while he stares at his food with a crinkle in his brow.
It’s nice to see Nate and Lance chuckling at the end of the table and I attempt to relax myself, but I know all too well that trouble can’t be far behind.
What if this place isn’t secure enough to withstand a horde? What would we do?
Although Lottie and Harry seem nice, is it foolish to assume they’re not a threat? What’s the barometer for establishing trust in this strange situation? These are all questions I cannot answer and the worry pressing at my chest is not so easily cured by a home cooked meal and a bed to sleep in.
“Hey,” Cason says, as if sensing my thoughts. When I look up, he says, “Stop looking for the bad. If it happens, you handle it. Right?”
“Me?” I rasp and he raises a brow. “Not us?”
When he looks away, his jaw tight, I sink in my seat, my worst fears confirmed. He does plan for us to stay. Us . . . not him.
Cason
It’s achingly quiet out here with nothing but the occasional low of a cow breaking the silence. The stars shine brilliantly above, and I lean my head back to better take in the view.
I know Shelby was disappointed by my answer, but she’ll find out soon enough about my plans.
I can’t stay, without knowing if Rosanne’s parents made it to the cabin.
Taking them with me is a risk and little Zoey needs security and somewhere she can be without constantly running.
Shelby’s wounds are still healing both inside and out.
This is the right way, but it doesn’t stop the brutal burn from stinging my chest which is another reason to go. I don’t want the added complication of worrying about someone else and the majority of these people have already worked their way through part of my defenses.
I’m better on my own. I am but my resolve falters when Shelby eases through the door and shuts it quietly before approaching me on the swing overlooking the property.
When her eyes meet mine, I scoot to the right, providing the space she needs to join me. I eye her golden blonde hair more silver in the moonlight as she sits beside me and tips her head to the sky.
The twin braids should make her look like a girl but this only allows her pretty features to shine. Her delicate brows arch over those vibrant eyes leading to a petite nose and sharp cheekbones.
When her tongue darts out to wet her pink lips, I turn away, noting that the wound marring them appears to have finally faded. Are the bruises on her torso gone too?
Pushing my foot against the porch, I set the swing to rocking gently. Every time her shoulder brushes mine, I’m tempted to turn back to her, but I resist the urge until she says, “You’re leaving, aren’t you?”
An ache creeps up my spine at her question, and I tense before dropping my gaze to my hands. How do I explain the shit swirling through my brain?
They’re safer here but I can’t stay. I made a promise the day I said my vows and maybe my marriage didn’t turn out the way it was meant to but that doesn’t mean I’m not going to follow through.
Rosanne’s family welcomed me when I had nothing and the connection we forged is unbreakable. I won’t abandon them when there’s a chance, I can be what stands between her brother and his newborn or her parents pushing seventy and death. In the end, I know they would do the same.
“It’s okay. I understand,” she says, breaking me from my thoughts.
“You understand what?” I rasp, meeting her blue, blue eyes. They sparkle like diamonds and shine with an emotion I can’t define. Frankly, I don’t want to. It scares the shit out of me if I admit it, so I’m going to deny it until the feeling fades away.
Fuck.
“We would only slow you down,” she says, and when I shake my head, she presses her finger to my lips. Frozen, I resist the urge to explore that single fucking finger with my tongue while she says, “We would. We need this. You . . . don’t.”
It’s not fucking true. I need this, her far more than is good for me but how do I make her see without exposing shit I don’t understand myself?
Everything about this is tenuous including the relationship she just left with a fucker who may or may not be dead. I don’t even know that about her. We’ve never shared the secrets we hold close, so how the hell could I feel this way after a few short fucking days?
“Shelby,” I finally say, and she cocks her head, those fucking braids sliding across her shoulders. “I have to go but you, and the girls, I can make this safe for you.”
I can. I will because I couldn’t live with myself if I abandoned them like that. I’m not a completely cold motherfucker. Right?
“I know you can,” she says before pushing to her feet.
In the darkness, it’s hard to see the delicate cast to her bones. She’s not weak but she is fragile. It would be selfish to ask her to keep going when there’s no longer a need, at least that’s what I keep telling myself as she edges toward the door.
At the threshold, she pauses and says, “I never said thank you. I know it wasn’t easy.”
When she chuckles, waving at herself, I try to swallow past the lump in my throat. “Not everyone is like you, Cason,” she whispers. “You’re . . . good.”
She’s gone before I can comment and the better part of me wants to go after her and explain that it’s not true. Most men would have done what I did. That doesn’t make me good, just human.
However, it’s the realization that I can’t even claim to be human now knowing I’m about to leave her in this terrible fucking world that keeps me rooted to the spot.