If I’m going to lose my patch, would I prefer to do it on my own terms? Just simply never go back?
It’s a question I lock in a box at the back of my mind, and as each day passes, I take it out to examine less frequently. I become comfortable here. I become comfortable with her.
I get the impression that it’s no bother for Cat having me here. I’d go so far as to say she enjoys the company. A week goes by, and my excuse she needs help becomes less relevant as her wrist improves, only giving her slight twinges now. The rings where the cuffs have bit in are fading, but she doesn’t raise the subject of when I’m going to go.
I’d summed up her situation quickly. She needs to leave this mausoleum and start a new life, but her past is like an anchor dragging her down. I don’t pretend to understand, blood family was a shackle I shrugged off long ago, but it matters to her. While she’s waiting for the impetus to move on, I’ll do what I can to make things easier for her. I’m not selfless, more self-serving. All the little jobs I find are keeping me occupied and giving her a reason to keep me around.
Another week passes. She often has a smile on her face and good food is putting some weight back on her slender frame. I begin looking at her with fresh eyes. Yesterday, when she bent down to look in the fridge, the sight of her heart shaped ass actually got my cock swelling. Down, boy, I’d told myself. Don’t fuck this up now. It’s not her I want, I’ve just not been laid for a while, and she’s just a convenient hole. If I’m going to continue my peaceful interlude from life, I can’t rock the boat.
“I’ve fixed the fence.” Walking inside, I take a bottle of water out of the fridge, and hold it against my forehead. It’s a warm day and I’ve been working hard. “I noticed a few shingles loose on the roof while I was out there. I’ll get those done.” I pause, realising I’m fucked as to how to collect new ones. My bike is great for getting from A to B, and for picking up a couple of days’ worth of groceries, but no good for carting heavy shit around. The asshole Tiny had stolen her truck, and until now, finding it had been pushed to the back of my mind. Without transportation, she’s dependent on me, which shows just how much I’m invested in hanging around.
“Just remember I didn’t ask you to do any of this.” Cat points her spatula at me with one of her easy smiles, and a flash of her brilliant green eyes.
“I know. But I’m here…” I shrug. This place has lacked a man’s touch for a while now. I walk over to the stove and lean in. Something smells good. At least I’m getting fed well. “I’ll go wash up.” After we’ve eaten I’ll get down to what I already should have been doing. But hell, it’s been a breath of fresh air just concentrating on menial tasks and not doing anything that requires my brain working. I don’t think I’ve had space like this since I was a child, maybe not since my mom upped and walked out.
She’s still working her magic, tossing ingredients into a pot when I exit the shower. I watch her for a moment, relishing the fluidity in the way that she moves. My cock twitches, but I turn quickly away. She’s not for me. She’s not a one-night stand type of woman, and I’m not a hang around kind of man.
While I’m here though, I can be useful. Returning to the living room, I take my laptop out of my saddlebags and plug it in. The battery has run out, it’s been that long since I used it. I wait until it’s got enough charge to work, then cast my own spells, hacking again into the servers of the Satan’s Devils MC back in Utah. I’m fully confident they’ll never know that I’ve commandeered some of their resources.
First, I get into the database of the vehicle licensing department. She said she’d registered it in her name after his death, so I used that and the results of a casual enquiry about her birthdate. Those gave me the details of the truck I was seeking. It’s an older Ford 150—that’s a surprise, not what I expected.
Of course I could have just asked her, but if Tiny had taken the truck to Utah, I’d have to think carefully about how or whether I could retrieve it. I’m not ready to go back to my brothers just yet and showing my face in the state where they’re based could lead them to me.
First, I narrow the search based on what Cat had told me, and what I already know. Tiny left here in the evening and ended up in Utah a day later. Either he had pedal to the metal all the way, or, he used another method. I go for the latter first and hack into the security cameras in the long-term parking at the airport.
It’s there.
I get into their system and soon have the receipt for the truck downloaded onto my phone. It’s already overdue for pickup. Her proof of ownership might have been sufficient for her to claim it, but this way we’ll be in and out fast with no questions asked. We’ll pay the extra few days parking, and she’ll have her transport back with no one any the wiser.
Tiny no longer exists in this world, he won’t be returning to claim it. Thank fuck. As always when I think on how I found her, my gut clenches with rage. If I hadn’t come calling, her body would be rotting in the cellar.
If her cousin had lived, would he have come back to save her? He might if he could have been identified as the last person to have seen her—they’d eaten out that night. But he could well have toyed with the idea of just leaving her. A bully like him would probably enjoy thinking of her being tortured by those fucking rats. I tell her none of that though, not wanting her to dwell on the evil in the world.
Job done, I lean my head back. Cat’s a good woman, and not weak at all, she’s strong. She had to be to survive relatively unscathed from what her cousin had done to her, the only reminder she’s not out the other side yet are those nightmares she still has. I don’t think she’s aware of how often I sneak into her room to soothe her, only retreating once she’s in an easier sleep.
One of my first jobs had been to get rid of all the evidence of her imprisonment. Cat isn’t going down to the cellar anytime soon. Strong woman or not, no one could blame her for that.
“Five minutes, Jeremiah.”
“I’ll be there,” I call back.
I glance around the room I’m sitting in, once again struck by how the furnishings bind it to the past. Outside shows its age as well, and I’d quickly realised the task of keeping this place running is more than a one-woman job. It’s a money pit in fact.
I’ve been helping her do it up, not just to make her life easier, but hoping I can drop some hints she’s better off listing it on the market. Why does a single woman need a house this size? Not when the land’s been sold off, and she’s no viable income from it. The hens don’t lay enough eggs for her to bring in more than a few dollars. And that horse is ancient, just living out his days in comfort.
I’ve heard the legend, if you save a life, you become responsible for it. Perhaps that’s why I’m invested in her moving on. Sure, she’s got happy memories here, but she can’t live off those, especially not with Tiny’s taint on them.
I don’t deny the charm of the old farmhouse, just as I can’t deny hers. Perhaps if things were different—if I were a different man—I’d stay around.
Linking my hands behind my head, I picture the disused barn. It would be a great place to restore motorcycles.