“I don’t think either boy was particularly close with their father, and he’d been sick for years, not that it makes it any easier.”
“Right.” I reach for my teacup, feeling horrible. If I see Chase again, I’ll tell him I’m sorry for his loss. That I know how losing a loved one feels like you’ve been ripped in two and stitched up with a rusty needle, pieces hanging together by weak threads, ready to rip apart and tear open at any second.
If I see him again.
Chapter 6
Chase
I sit on the edge of a large rock, dew soaking the bottom of my jeans. I squint and look at the river, watching the sunlight dance off the rushing water. The Mill House is closed on Sundays, and the lot is empty except for me.
I can pretend I’m the only one in the world again.
Except I can’t get her out of my head. I reach into my pocket and pull out my phone. I haven’t listened to a message since Friday, and the want to hear her poetic words and the harrowing emotion in her voice weighs on me. I unlock the screen and bring up the messages.
The next message was left just hours after the previous one. I bite my lip, look out at the water again and then press play.
“I can’t sleep,” she starts, and her voice sends a jolt of familiarity through me. I’m a visual person. I remember faces, can pick up on the slightest mannerisms and expressions, but when it comes to matching voices to faces, I lack.
“Which isn’t unusual,” she goes on. “But tonight, it’s worse. Tonight, I feel like the waves are too much to take, that I’m struggling to keep my head above the surface. Sometimes I let myself sink under and think about how easy it would be if I just slipped down to the bottom. No more struggling, no more fighting the current. I go under and then it’s even harder to push back up. It’s just darkness. Above me. Under me. Around me. And it hurts.”
Again, her words are too close for comfort. Yet that’s exactly what they bring: comfort. Because I feel it too. The darkness closing in on me, threatening the life inside of me. I haven’t suffered a great loss like my mystery woman has. Her darkness comes from the outside.
Mine resides within.
I focus on the space ahead of me, feet pounding on dry earth. It’s weird to be running without music, and since all my songs were stored on the phone Dakota accidentally broke, I’ll be without them for a while. I could put music on the new phone, but that would take up precious memory, and I need every bit I can get to keep the messages.
My pace slows as the trail thins. I’ve been following a deer path in the untamed woods and assume I’ve gone three or four miles away from the bar. The path has stayed near the river for most of my run, but a few paces ago it took a sharp turn away from the water. The trees grew sparse and the bright sun is now beating down on me. It’s not as humid today as it has been, which helps make running in the afternoon bearable.
Staying in shape is important to me, mostly because a fast getaway was crucial to my survival before. And when I couldn’t make a fast escape, then I needed to fight my way to freedom. I’ve never lost a fight.
The overgrown weeds make way to a neatly planted field, and my mind flashes back to Josh’s words about the Belmonts owning most of the farmland in this town. I stop and take a few minutes to stretch, looking at the acres of crops. Something crashes through the woods several yards behind me, and I whirl around, fists clenched.
A deer stops, staring at me with wide, black eyes. I let out a breath and unfurl my fists. Going on the defense, ready to fight, is second nature to me. This—the peaceful small-town setting—is so fucking weird to me.
I stand still and watch the deer, having a bit of a staring contest. The thing doesn’t move an inch. The sound of a tractor starting up makes me turn, and when I look back, the deer is gone. I take a deep breath, wipe away the sweat that’s dripping into my eyes, and continue my run, going along the outside of the field until I find what I assume is another deer path, though this one is much wider than before. Thankfully, it veers away from the field and the sun and into the woods again. It goes along the straight edge of the field, continuing for what has to be miles. I can’t hear the river anymore, and the sounds of birds become almost deafening.
The path becomes more defined, with large rocks and fallen logs moved to the side. I jump over a pile of manure and notice the horseshoe imprints. I keep going, wondering how much farther the trail will lead before I come to an opening in the woods and then someone’s barn.
Not knowing what lies ahead has never bothered me. People like to plan, to be prepared. But you never know what’s going to happen. So why bother? I live my life day to day because hoping for anything more becomes an expectation. And disappointment goes hand in hand with expectations.
I continue running, feeling the burn in my legs from the changes in terrain. I go up a hill and pause to catch my breath. Then I hear it.
Music.
Softly drifting through the thick of trees and weeds.
Going slow, hardly making a sound, I move forward until I see the large barn through the forest. A white fence runs alongside it, stretching for miles. Lush green grass fills the pasture, and a small herd of horses stand close to each other in the middle, tails swishing away flies as they graze.
The music is coming from the barn and someone leads a tall gray horse into the pasture. The large animal hides her face. They stop as she opens the gate, gives the horse a hug, and then turns him out. With a kick of his heels, he takes off, running toward the others. They look up, and one whinnies a greeting. Another pins his ears back and lets out a sharp whine.
My experience with horses is limited, but I’ve always found them fascinating. I move my eyes away from the horses and back to the woman who let the gray horse out. My breath hitches in my chest.
Sierra.
She’s walking back into the barn, stopping when a black cat crosses the pasture. Sierra sits on the ground, petting the cat. It steps right into her lap, pressing its face into her hand. Another comes running, and the two barn cats fight for her attention. The wind blows Sierra’s hair around, and I can’t help but find her beautiful.
Then I feel like a creep for just standing here, watching from the woods. That was never my intention on this run. I tear my eyes away and head home.
“I should have done this sooner,” Josh says, parking his pickup along the street. “Better late than never, right?”
“It’s fine,” I tell him. “I’ve only been here a week.”
“True.”
I get out and stand on the sidewalk, looking at the two-story courthouse in the center of the town. Josh is giving me my official tour of the town today, which includes introducing me to some of the locals. People talk, he warned me, and are probably wondering about me. We start at a hardware store since I need to pick up a few things to continue fixing and improving the apartment above the bar.
A children’s boutique is next to the hardware store, and we go so I can pick something out for Dakota, who’s only four but loves fashion. Since I don’t know the girl well, I have Josh grab an outfit she’d like and I buy it. Marissa, the owner, smiles and bats her lashes at me the whole time she wraps the overpriced dress in purple tissue paper.