Chapter 5
Chapter Five
Kylie
“I'm in here!”
The words came out with no rhyme or reason. “Help!” seemed too extreme to spring on someone, even if it was what she needed most. But the warning that a human was inside the bin seemed smart.
“Amber?” a man's voice shouted, sharp and urgent.
“What? No! My name is Kylie. KY-LEE!” she screamed, as if enunciating would help.
Silence.
Too much silence.
“HELLO? DON’T LEAVE! HELP!”
“What are you doing in there?” the guy shouted, louder this time.
“Oh! Oh! Thank you!! Someone is there. Help! Help me!” Banging on the side of the box, as if that would help, she hit hard enough to groan, her knuckles ringing in pain.
“Cut that out! You’ll hurt yourself.”
A loud, grumbly groan was unmistakable, the sound setting off all the anger inside that she had suppressed for the last three months.
And then the hinged door creaked open, cold air blowing in. A head appeared, eyes dark in the shadows.
“What did you say your name is?” he asked sharply, as if he expected compliance.
“Kylie.”
“How long have you been living in there?”
Living?
“I just got stuck! Maybe a half hour ago?”
“You know these aren’t good places to sleep.”
“Why would I want to sleep in here?”
Silence.
Bang bang bang
The hard knock to her left made her jump.
“Anyone else in there with you?”
“What?”
“Are you in there with a man?”
“Why would I be in here with a man?”
“Or a woman?”
“WHAT?”
“Ma’am, I am not one to judge, but plenty of people use these donation bins for less than legal reasons, so I have to ask: Are you in there with a john?”
“Who is John?” she squeaked.
He cleared his throat with meaning. “A john. You know. A paying customer.”
Horror washed over Kylie as she realized what he was implying.
No. Not implying.
Outright saying.
“YOU THINK I AM A PROSTITUTE?” she bellowed, mustering every ounce of diaphragmatic energy to unleash whatever demons resided inside her vocal cords.
“I’m not judging, ma’am.”
“Yes, you are!”
“No, ma’am. Just assessing the situation. Gathering facts. Determining my course of action. Bins like this are a lot cheaper than motels, and none of the bed and breakfasts in Luview will rent by the hour, so...”
He let out the kind of sigh that took Kylie’s anger from a ten to a fourteen.
“You are judging! Don’t you sigh like that at me!”
“Like what?”
“Like I’m a problem!”
Silence.
“Well, Kylie… you said your name is Kylie?”
“Yes.”
A chuckle floated through the open door as she looked up, trying to see his face. “You are a problem. You’re stuck inside a donation bin. By definition, that’s a problem.”
“Excuse me?”
“You. Are. A. Problem,” he said slowly.
Loudly.
“HEY!”
“Truth hurts.”
She threw a donated high-heeled shoe at his face. Guy had quick reflexes. It missed.
“CUT THAT OUT! I’m a police officer. I could charge you for assaulting an officer.”
“You’re a jerk!”
Hold on.
Police?
“And you’re trespassing.”
“Trespassing? I fell in! How can I be trespassing?”
“You could be arrested for stealing.”
“Stealing what? Banana hooks and old food dehydrators? Come on.” She squinted, looking up at his shadowed face. “And if you’re really a police officer, show me a badge.”
“I don’t have one on me.”
“HAH! Then you’re lying.”
Suddenly, she was glad she was stuck in here, safe from him.
Wait.
If the guy wanted to, he could climb in with her. So much for safety.
“Not lying.” He paused. “What’s your last name, Kylie?”
“Tell me your name first.”
“Luke. Luke Luview.”
She damn near swallowed her tongue.
A tongue he’d touched once.
With his own.
“Luke? The Luke?”
A robust chuckle filled the air. “Don’t know that I’ve ever been called the Luke before. Have we met?”
A sharp inhale made her nostrils nearly freeze shut.
He didn’t remember.
For some reason, that made her even more furious.
“My name is Kylie Hood. Do you need ID? It’s in my car. I am not a PROSTITUTE!”
“Kylie–wait. Kylie Hood?” Half his head came through just as she shone her flashlight right in his face, making him wince.
It really was him.
Luke Luview.
The first boy she’d ever kissed.
“Um, hi.” Waving like an idiot, she smiled.
“‘Um, hi?’ The first time I’ve seen you in fifteen years, you’re hiding in a donation box and looking up at me like a rabid raccoon and your first words are ‘Um, hi?’”
“My first words, technically, were ‘I’m in here!’” she said primly.
“Don’t get pedantic.”
“Don’t get all domineering!”
“I’m a law enforcement officer. It’s in my job description.”
She sniffed. “If you’re going to play that game, then being pedantic is in my job description. I’m a licensed teacher!”
“For someone who is entrusted with our vulnerable youth, you’re not instilling much confidence.”
“HEY!”
“How the hell did you get in there, Kylie?”
“I was bored, Luke. Thought I’d find something to do around here other than tapping maples and tipping cows.”
“You succeeded.”
He peered in, shielding his eyes. Luke’s face was broader and stronger than the last time she saw him, the beginnings of five o'clock scruff on his cheeks and chin.
Same bright blue eyes, same blond, wavy hair, though it was cut with a military-like precision that aligned with his claims of being a police officer.
Luke Luview was a cop.
All she could see of him was his head and an arm, but she suspected the rest was just as fine.
“Could you help me get out of here?” she begged.
“Of course. What’d you think I’d do? Leave you to rot?”
Her only answer was a series of loud laughs that bordered on hysterical crying, but somehow, she reined that in.
“Let me call the station. They’ll send someone out to help.”
“NO!”
Confusion radiated back at her from his voice, the tilt of his head. “You… don’t want help?”
“Can’t you just do it? Without letting anyone know? It’s embarrassing enough, but you know how Luview is. I’ll be a laughingstock for the next three months. Especially if Nadine Khouri still lives here. She was the biggest gossip in town when I was a kid.”
Amusement filled his voice. “Still is. And I work with her every day at the station.”
Kylie gasped. Right. Every town had its tongue-wagging supergossip, and Nadine was it. Kylie had forgotten that Nadine worked as administrative support at the police station, the best job ever for knowing all the dirt in a tiny town.
“That’s right,” was all Kylie could mutter.
“Why would you care? You don’t live here.” He frowned. “Don’t you live in Indiana? How did you get in here?”
“I teleported. Touched the wrong standing stone and poof! I was in here.”
“Hah.” His smile was gracious and genuine, showing those Luview dimples. “You always were funny.”
“I was?”
“You were. And creative. Geez, Kylie. This is…”
“Weird.”
“Yep.”
This time, his groan didn’t sound like he was being annoyed at Kylie. It sounded like he was fighting with himself.
“I should put this on the official record, but I can get you out myself.”
“How? I’m too short to make it up to the door.”
“I’ll get you out the side door.”
“THERE’S A SIDE DOOR?”
That rumbling laugh sent goosebumps across her cold skin.
“Yeah. It’s padlocked from the outside, though. Have to go home and get my bolt cutters from my work car.”
“Oh.”
“I’m thirty minutes away, so it’ll be an hour. You’ll have to wait it out here. You have food? Water?”
“Sure, Luke. I packed a picnic basket and everything. Enjoying my merlot and sheep’s milk gouda from the Netherlands in here.”
She got silence in response, the top door slamming shut.
Dang. Should have kept her sarcasm to herself. Now she’d gone and done it.
The door creaked open again.
“Incoming!”
A granola bar thwacked her between the eyes. Reflexively, she ducked, a bottled water plunking on the bagged donations to her right.
Luke’s head appeared in the opening again. “That should hold you until I can get back.”
Then he shut the door.
Her stomach roared in appreciation, but her body was hit with pure panic, like anxiety turned to buckshot.
“Don’t leave me!” She banged on the wall. Her vision narrowed, heartbeat in her ears, sense of impending doom overtaking her.
Oh, no.
Not a panic attack. Even Perry leaving her hadn’t triggered one of these.
“I have to leave. Can’t get you out without tools,” he shouted, the sound muffled, growing weaker by the second as her ears began to ring.
“Help,” she whispered, knowing he couldn’t hear her.
Breathe, she told herself.
You’re not dying.
You’re not.
It just feels like you are.
“Kylie?” he knocked gently.
She wanted to answer, but her lungs and vocal cords seemed to have relocated to another planet.
“Kylie.” Luke’s voice changed, firm and commanding. “Say something.”
I can’t, she thought, opening and closing her mouth like a fish, her breath erratic.
The pull-down door opened, Luke’s flashlight shining in.
“What’s wrong?”
She shook her head.
“Panic attack?”
She nodded.
His tone changed instantly. “Can you stand up?”
She shook her head.
“Stand up, Kylie.”
She shook her head again. Didn’t he hear her?
Wait. How could he hear her? She couldn’t speak.
“I said, stand up.”
Something about his voice felt like an order she couldn’t disobey. She stood, legs like overcooked calamari.
“Reach one hand up for mine,” he commanded.
His bare hand was inside the box. Doing as told, she felt his warm grasp calm her instantly. It didn’t neutralize the panic, but took it down a notch.
Any relief was better than none.
Normally, she’d be humiliated beyond belief to have someone witness her panic attack, but she was already so embarrassed, she really couldn’t go a whole lot lower.
“Lots of people have these attacks,” he assured her. “You’ll be fine. It’s normal to freak out. Want me to breathe with you?”
She squeezed his hand, grateful for the touch.
“No,” she croaked out. A long, shuddering breath came next, her shoulders starting to drop a little. “No.”
“I’m here. Not leaving until you’re fine. I’m here, Kylie. You’re safe with me. You’re safe. You’re always safe with me.”