“You should tend to your face first.”
“And leave you alone? Not likely.”
“Then let me do it. Hand me the first-aid kit, a wet rag, and something cold from the freezer—a bag of peas would be best.”
“Seems like you’ve done this before.”
“Are you going to let me help or not?” I ask. He gathers the things I requested. I clean him up, butterfly-bandage the gash, and hand him the peas. “Hold this on your cheek, twenty minutes on and twenty minutes off to control the swelling.”
“Are you a nurse or something?”
“I’m not anything.”
He looks at me like he feels sorry for me. He wouldn’t look at me this way if he knew the truth. He stands. “Like I said, you first.”
I get up and hobble across the room using only the toes on my left foot. I flip on the stairway light, something I’ve never done before. It feels strange. He follows me upstairs, down the second-floor hallway, past guest suite four, and then up the attic stairs. At the top, he glances around.
I point. “I keep my stuff behind the bookcase.”
He keeps me in his sights, but I doubt he sees me as a flight risk anymore after seeing the laceration on my foot. He checks out my backpack. It’s open and all my food is lined up on the old trunk next to it. I’d become complacent. I should have kept everything together, in case I needed to make a fast getaway.
He picks up the remaining two granola bars and examines them. What’s he looking for? He surveys the rest of it: a few cans of tuna, some soda, packets of cheese and crackers. He picks up the empty bag of bread. “You took this from the trash.”
“It was still good.”
“Some of this stuff isn’t from here. Where did you get it?”
“Public assistance.”
“As in food stamps?”
“They call it a Lone Star Card, but yeah, basically.”
“If you can get public assistance, why not stay in a shelter?”
My foot throbs. I sit on the mattress. “I tried someplace like that; didn’t work out. And the women’s shelter in town is full.”
“But you must get this Lone Star Card from someone.”
“The state, but not for long. I only got three months’ worth, since I’m considered an able-bodied adult. There’s only a month of benefits left. I’ve been rationing. It’s why I had to take some of your food.”
Curiosity crosses his face. “What happened two months ago that made you seek public assistance?”
I don’t answer.
“Fine. Tell me how you went undetected up here.”
I explain about the drapes I hung over the windows at night so nobody would see the light. How I snuck down to use the shower or the bathroom.
He notices a bucket in the corner. Thank God it’s empty. “For emergencies?”
I nod in shame.
“Jesus, Devyn. What happened to you?”
“You said if I showed you, you’d let me go. Are we finished here?”
“Where will you go? You’re injured. I cleaned your foot, but it could get infected without proper care.”
“I know how to care for a cut. I’m not stupid.”
“I never said you were. In fact, I’d say you were pretty smart to pull this off. But why not get a job at Target or Wendy’s? Surely they’d hire you.”
“I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“I have my reasons.”
“Fair enough.”
I hobble over and put the food away, roll up my sleeping bag, and gingerly stuff my injured foot into my tennis shoe. I sling my pack on my back and hop on one foot down the stairs. He follows.
“This is ridiculous,” he says back in the kitchen. “It’s two o’clock in the morning. I’d be a dick if I turned you out right now.”
“Yet you’re thinking you’d be crazy to let me stay the night.”
He narrows his eyes as if I’ve read his mind. “You’ve been here for a month. If you were going to trash the place or try and hurt me, you’d have already done it. The guests won’t arrive until after noon.” He motions to the small bedroom off the kitchen. “Use that room. Sleep in a bed. Take a shower without worrying about someone finding you and calling the police. In the morning, I’ll send you on your way with food and supplies.”
I wonder about his ulterior motives.
He notices my suspicion. “I’m just being human, Devyn. Anyone would do the same.”
“I stole from you. Anyone would not do the same.”
“Well, I guess I’m not anyone. So you’ll stay the night?”
“Only if you’ll let me pay you back when I can.”
“Sure. Whatever you want.”
“Will you be staying here or going back to your cabin?” I glance away. I basically just admitted I’ve been watching him.
“If it’s all the same to you, I’ll sleep where I’ve been sleeping all week. Don’t worry, there’s a lock on the bedroom door.”
“Okay.”
“Wait.” He walks to the refrigerator and takes out two individual cups of chocolate mousse. They look expensive. I would never take things like that. He holds one out to me. “I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.” He pushes the decadent dessert into my hand. “On the house. It’s been a long night.”
He opens a drawer, pulls out two spoons, and hands me one. We sit in silence and eat. This has got to be the weirdest night of my life.
Chapter Seven
Aaron
My alarm goes off at six a.m. I wanted to wake up before Devyn. I suspect she’ll run out of here and never look back, even after my promise of sending her with supplies. There’s something about her. She’s sad. Lost, yet somehow strong.
I sent a text to Andie, knowing she’s probably up with Vivian by now. She replies immediately. I go to the kitchen and quietly start breakfast. I wonder how long it’s been since Devyn had a hot meal. I’m no chef, but I can make a decent omelet.
As suspected, she emerges by six thirty. She stops in the doorway, pack on her back.
I put down the spatula. “You were going to leave without saying goodbye? That’s not very nice.”
“Figured you didn’t need the hassle.” Her eyes close, and she inhales. “Oh, that smell.”
“Sit. I made omelets, sausage, and toast.”
She removes her pack. So it has been a long time since she’s eaten a real meal. “Thank you.”
Devyn eats more than I do, and that’s saying something. We’re still at the table when the back door opens and Andie walks in. Devyn immediately goes on high alert.
I maintain a relaxed air. “Andie, this is Devyn. She’s a friend of mine. We were making breakfast and a jar broke, and she cut her foot. Can you take a peek?”
“Of course.”
Devyn reaches for her pack. “It’s not necessary.”
“She’s a doctor,” I say. “A veterinarian. But she takes care of everyone on the ranch with minor injuries. Let her check it out as a favor to me.”