Thirty-Nine
Oakley
Jessie left early the morning following our impromptu sleepover, and despite the extra hours I got to spend with her, I was sad to see her leave. When was the last time I had uninterrupted girl time? If you don’t count the late night study sessions with the girls from school, it’s been years.
Shortly before Jessie left, I got a text from Cliff. Apparently, someone messed up and double-scheduled me and Layla, so I’m not needed tonight after all.
I should be upset about missing out on the potential money, but I’m exhausted today, having spent way too much time talking and giggling with Jessie to have actually gotten any real sleep.
Not to mention the wine.
I groan at the twinge of pain ricocheting through my skull, reminding me of my very present hangover.
I spend the morning lazing around the house, sipping my coffee slowly while I browse my Kindle, looking for a good book to sink my teeth into tonight. Levi isn’t due back until tomorrow, and with Jessie working, it’s just me and Bandit.
Speaking of the ridiculously cute German shepherd, he seems to follow me around wherever I go in the house, something I notice he’s been doing more since Levi’s been away. Maybe it’s his way of making sure I’m taken care of and looked out for while the man of the house is gone.
I give the pup a scratch behind the ears and continue browsing, deciding to settle on a cozy fantasy romance by an indie author I discovered a few months ago.
I read her first book, but with everything that happened, reading had fallen by the wayside for me.
I think tonight is the perfect night to curl up with Bandit and indulge.
After I finish downloading the book, I glance at the clock, surprised to find that it’s nearly lunchtime. Right on cue, my stomach growls angrily. Sighing, I stand and bring the empty mug to the kitchen sink, rinse it, and place it in the drying rack.
Then, I go to the fridge and examine the contents within.
It’s mostly empty, containing only a few slices of leftover pizza from last night, a couple of Levi’s favorite craft beers, and a bottle of wine on the door.
I suppress a shudder at the sight of the wine, and I grab the pizza box, setting the oven to preheat.
While I wait for it to come up to temperature, I go through the cabinets, opening and closing the doors when I discover they’re in no better shape than the fridge.
When was the last time we’d gone grocery shopping?
Levi usually takes care of the food shopping and cooking, and despite my best efforts to offer assistance, he always refuses.
And forget about me offering to pay for a portion of the grocery bill.
He looked so offended a few weeks ago when I held out a handful of twenties to him that I could literally see the bruise blooming on his ego.
But still, it felt weird to not pay my fair share, so that night, after he’d fallen asleep on the couch with Bandit, I snuck the money into his wallet on the entryway table.
The next morning, the bills were folded neatly next to a mug of steaming hot coffee that he had left on the counter for me.
He had already left for work, so I couldn’t even try to argue with him about it.
I had a feeling, though, it was an argument I was bound to lose, even if he was home to broach the subject again.
I learned quickly that he would accept no help from me, money or otherwise, but that didn’t stop me from politely offering, and showing my gratitude when he inevitably refused me.
Perhaps now that we’d crossed the line we’d been toeing for weeks—the line between friendship and something else—I’d start coming up with better ways to show my gratitude.
My cheeks heat at the mere thought of it, a low ache blooming somewhere low in my belly.
The beeping on the oven alerts me that it’s ready, and I pop in the remaining two pieces of pizza and set a ten-minute timer to remind myself to come check in a little bit.
Once my breakfast of champions is situated, I bound up the stairs and get dressed quickly, putting on my most comfortable pair of leggings.
I dig around in the closet, looking for my favorite tank top to throw on.
By the time the oven timer goes off, I’ve dressed, done a full skincare routine, and brushed my teeth and hair.
I eat quickly, barely tasting the pizza, before grabbing my car keys and bag from the hooks in the hallway and closing the door behind me.
When I pull into the parking lot of the grocery store and throw my car into park, the sun is high in the sky and shining brightly, not a cloud in sight.
It’s a beautiful early autumn day, the air crisp with the promise of the coming cooler months.
I can practically taste the warm apple cider donuts on the tip of my tongue, the phantom flavor dancing along my tastebuds.
In the trees nearby, birds chirp an upbeat tune, and, for some reason, it makes me smile even more.
I’ve fallen head over hiking boots in love with North Creek.
With the mountains, yes, of course, but also with the slow, steady thrum of life that pulses through the trees and beneath the concrete.
The way neighbors lift a hand and wave as you pass, whether they know you or not.
The way hard work consumes the weekdays, and beer and laughter flow on the weekends.
Young or old, it makes no difference. Kindness and unadulterated gratitude seeps out of the pores of this town like honey from a hive, making it impossible not to feel at home.
Jessie beams at me through the large front windows, but I take my time walking in, not wanting to cut a moment of my appreciation short.
This town, these mountains, have done so much for me already.
The least I can do is show them my gratitude.
It almost feels silly to keep quietly appreciating like this, but after everything I ran from and the newest development in my relationship with Levi, it feels wrong not to.
I’m like a giddy teenager with her first crush, still lost in the taste and feel of him, our pounding hearts and breathy moans twining together in my mind like the most tantalizing of symphonies.
This is different from the hope I felt when I first drove into town.
I was hopeful then but it was reserved, like I was wishing on a shooting star to come and fix my problems without believing in the power of it.
I had a tentative plan, but I didn’t actually know where I was going, didn’t know if I would be able to build a life and a home here.
Just a foolish, exhausted woman, who no longer recognized herself, praying that this last-ditch effort would heal her.
And now?
Now, my breaths come easier, and my smiles are as wide and genuine as the expanse of the mountain ranges. It’s all thanks to this town, these mountains, and the people I’ve met along the way.
The bell above the door jingles when I push through, and I’m greeted by Jessie’s bright eyes.
I say a quick hello as I grab a basket and begin roaming up and down the aisles, stopping first in front of the array of fresh fruits and vegetables, all covered in a light sheen of perspiration from the misters overhead.
My cooking is mediocre at best. In fact, for as long as I can remember, my meals have consisted of ramen noodles, frozen pizza, and pasta with bland chicken.
I know how to cook, but being a student on a tight budget, and then a woman on the run with limited funds, didn’t exactly allow me time to get creative in the kitchen.
I probably look like I’m having a mental breakdown in front of the cucumbers, but a few minutes of scouring my mind trying to remember the meals I’d cook when I was still living with my parents, has an idea sparking and my mouth watering at the prospect.
I grab what I need, taking my time to carefully select the most pristine vegetables. Placing the bell peppers, sweet onion, broccoli crowns, and zucchini in my basket, I head to the next aisles to grab the rest of what I’ll need.
By the time I get to Jessie’s register, my basket is nearly overflowing with all the fresh ingredients I need to make a simple pasta primavera.
“Hey, girl!” Jessie greets as she begins ringing up my items.
I move to the end of the line to start bagging them for her.
“I want to thank you for last night. It was really nice to hang out, just us girls.”
“Yeah, I had a lot of fun,” I reply enthusiastically. “We’re gonna have to make it a regular thing. Though, maybe we can limit the wine next time?”
Jessie grimaces. “For sure. I’ve taken enough ibuprofen this morning to form an ulcer.” She jerks her chin towards the pile of groceries I selected. “Are you and Levi having a little date night tonight?”
“No, just me. Figured I’d try my hand at an old family recipe. Besides, the boys aren’t back until tomorrow night.”
“Levi didn’t tell you? He and Justin are on their way home now. Something about getting the job done faster than they had originally thought.”
My stomach dips and swoops knowing I’m going to see Levi sooner than I thought. “I guess it’s a good thing I picked today to start cooking again. Actually,” I say thoughtfully, “maybe it’s a bad thing.”
Jessie laughs and sweeps her hair back from her face, tucking it behind her ear. “Don’t worry. I’m sure you won’t burn the kitchen down.”
“You highly overestimate my skill level,” I deadpan.
“There’s a fire extinguisher under the kitchen sink.” She shoots me a wink.
I look at her in mock offense, throwing a hand over my chest for dramatic flair.
She throws her hands up in front of her defensively. “Just in case! I have full faith in you.”
“That makes one of us,” I grumble.
She reads out the total, and I pay before grabbing my bags and change. I head out the door with a wave, and a promise to text her later and let her know how it goes.
I pile the groceries in the back seat of my car, making sure they’re stable, and then close the door.
I’m rounding the front of the car when the screeching of tires on asphalt startles me.
My head jerks up, and my eyes land on a red sedan.
It barrels down the road, moving much faster than the thirty-mile-per-hour speed limit, but that’s not why I’m standing here, frozen in place with my hand still outstretched towards the door handle.
It’s the flash of dirty-blonde hair, the pointed nose whose silhouette I haven’t yet forgotten, and the glimpse of dark black ink adorning the man’s knuckles as he scrubs a hand over his scruffy beard.
My heart pounds, my body screaming at me to duck behind my car, to run, to move, to do anything, but my feet are rooted firmly to the ground like a doe caught in headlights on a dark backroad.
The man doesn’t turn, doesn’t spare a glance out his window, and I thank God for small mercies. I can feel the weight of his gaze anyway, can perfectly envision the sneer of disgust and look of ownership in his deep hazel eyes.
And just like that, the levity of my hope comes crashing down around me.
He’s here.
He found me.
I am not safe.
The car makes a sharp turn into Joe’s, the tires bumping over the curb before it skids to a halt. How had I been so fucking deluded to think he wouldn’t find me? Like a naive child, I ignored all the warning signs.
I became complacent when I didn’t hear from him after the break-in, and allowed myself to fall foolishly into a sense of ease and comfort.
I allowed the safety Levi provided to cloak my intuition, like a wet blanket dulling a flame.
I ignored the small voice, ever-present in the back of my mind, telling me that it wasn’t over and it wasn’t the end, try as I might to convince myself it was.
I should have known there was no escaping him. He told me as much over and over, and, again and again, I stubbornly refused to heed his warnings or take his threats seriously.
I need to get to Levi. He’ll know what to do. I push past the pounding of my heartbeat in my ears and fling open the car door.
I don’t wait to watch him climb out of his car. I’m in the driver’s seat and pulling out of the parking lot with my foot slammed down on the gas pedal, as I speed away from town and towards the only person I’ve ever truly felt safe with.