38. Chapter 38
Chapter thirty-eight
Cason
Added to the top ten most fucked up things I’ve ever seen, finding Shelby straddling that dead body covered in blood and God knows what ranks pretty high.
When she raised her glassy eyes to mine, I realized she was in shock but what worried me and continues to worry me is whether she was infected, something I can’t know until we clean her off and assess the wounds.
I’m hoping Bob will accept us at this time of night bringing a giant unknown, no less, but his son eagerly waves us through when we roll up.
As soon as we reach the house though, Bob steps onto the porch with a frown. He studies the group before landing on Shelby still shivering in my arms. I see the denial in his eyes, and my heart fucking sinks before his wife, Norma, touches his arm.
When he turns to her, they share a silent communion before he says, “You can take her to the barn.”
I’m hesitant to put Shelby right back in the situation she just left but Bob’s barn does not compare to the mess of the one she was trapped in for God knows how long.
As soon as we enter, the horses neigh from the stalls on each side of the long building. It’s surprisingly warm inside and thankfully clean.
When Bob points to a room off the back, I enter with Shelby still in my arms. The office contains a faded couch facing a desk beside a window that would let in ample light if the sun were shining.
Through an adjoining door, there’s a small shower with a chair by the entrance and two towels resting on the adjacent sink.
Once we’re inside, Bob backs away and says, “Shower works but might be a little cold, yeah?”
At this point I don’t care so long as I can tend to Shelby’s wounds and with a nod, I set her down on the chair beside the shower.
She’s so pale and achingly still that I brush her skin to feel her warmth. When she nuzzles into my hand, my heart pulses while my soul burns.
I let her down. I let her fucking down and that fact will haunt me for-fucking-ever.
However, I have to push through this despair. Shelby deserves more than my rage and regret and exhaling slowly, I say, “Let’s get you cleaned up, sweetheart.”
“Okay,” she says, blinking her gorgeous blue eyes.
She doesn’t protest when I help to strip her down, after which she stumbles into the stall. The water isn’t freezing thank fuck but it’s not going to help her shock and eyeing her blue tinged lips, I pull off my shirt and shoes before stepping in beside her.
When she turns to me immediately, I accept the warmth that washes through my limbs. I’m so damn impressed by her ability to trust anyone after all she’s been through. The fact that it’s me means fucking everything.
Once she’s sufficiently wet, I soap up, taking extra care to wash the bits of blood and flesh from her hair, before slicking the soap over her skin and analyzing every creamy inch for cuts or open wounds.
Under any other circumstances, I would be admiring her smooth alabaster skin, perky breasts and long legs but my heart remains in my throat until I reach her toes and confirm, there are no major injuries.
She’s bruised for sure and she’s probably gonna ache something fierce tomorrow, but the threat of turning is gone. I’m so fucking relieved that I pull her into my arms, her naked body brushing my chest.
For a while, I just rock her and enjoy her warmth because she’s here. If I were honest with myself, I’d admit there’s a part of me that expected to find Shelby dead.
My heart was already hardening to the reality and even after finding her alive but seriously fucked up, I still couldn’t let go. It’s only now with her in my arms that I finally take a full breath.
When the tepid water eventually turns cold, I wrap her up in a towel and set her on the chair before dropping my drenched clothes to the floor.
After that, I pick her up once more and sit on the couch with her in my arms. Slowly, her shivers die away and when she looks up at me, I note that her lips have returned to the rosy hue I’ve admired from afar.
“Cason?” she whispers.
“Yeah?”
“I don’t think I like farms anymore,” she says, her lips quirking. The sight is so adorable, I can’t resist, and press my mouth to hers, stealing more of her warmth.
Her lips are soft and delectable but now is not the time for more and instead, I pepper kisses across her cheeks before leaning my forehead against hers.
She’s alive. Thank fucking God.
Shelby
We spend the next few days recovering from our shell shock.
As far as we’ve been able to piece together, Lottie and her husband, the thing she let loose in the barn with me, inveigled their way into Judy and Harry’s good graces.
Somehow, which will remain a mystery, Lottie's husband was bitten, and Judy disappeared. We have to presume that she’s dead.
What doesn’t make sense is the fact that Lottie posed as Harry’s wife to lure us in. Was it to help her run the farm or something more nefarious?
I suspect the former but when I started to ask too many questions, Lottie got nervous and decided to make me go away.
Perhaps she thought it would be easier for the others to swallow if I turned rather than disappearing.
We’ll never know if she planned to play it off because Cason and the others already knew something was up when they returned from the meeting.
While the others are willing to accept Bob and his wife’s kind gestures and nurturing actions, I can’t bring myself to trust so easily. This is why I’m sitting on the back porch, watching the horses roam the pasture while they're inside for dinner.
Hearing of Jason’s death hit me hard and the bitter sting of regret and a good dose of anger keep me rooted in my misery. I don’t want to take it out on my friends or Bob and his wife which is why I’ve kept mostly to myself.
Of course, Norma, the consummate nurturer can’t help herself and I bite back a surly response when she appears behind me and says, “I made you some tea. It’s chamomile, one of my favorites.”
“Thanks,” I mutter, taking the proffered steaming mug only to pause when I read the writing on the side.
Home is where the heart is.
It would seem that Ben’s ghost will follow me wherever I go and after everything that’s transpired, I do wonder if his last words to me weren’t true.
I’ll see you in hell.
I guess he was right. This is definitely hell, and the fucker continues to haunt me.
“You remind me of my daughter,” Norma says, and I meet her gaze. Where have I heard that before?
Shit. Can I add Lottie to the list of people haunting me in the afterlife?
“She walked this world battling inner demons too,” Norma says, and I stiffen.
Fuck this. I’m not up for a conversation about the weather much less my past but when I push to stand, Norma chuckles and touches my shoulder.
When I glance at her sideways, her clear blue eyes meet mine. What does she see when she looks at me?
“It’s not a bad thing, child,” she says. “There’s light at the end of the tunnel. You’re stronger than you think.”
She walks away before I can comment, not that I know what I would say. Am I strong? I did fight off one of them in the fucking darkness under not-so-great odds. I’m here despite the fucked-up shit that keeps happening.
Maybe instead of focusing on my mistakes, I should accept that I’m human and in the most impossible of situations, I continue on.
But for how long?