Let Go - Page 4

When I’d landed in town, before I got the job and a place to stay, I stayed in an abandoned cabin on the state parkland just on the outside of town. I’m headed back that way, only it’s four months later and the weather is not as friendly.

At the moment, my options are limited so I will my legs to carry me forward and hope that in the morning, I’ll figure out some sort of new plan.

It takes me a good couple hours before I see the cluster of small cabins in the distance. The sun is all but down and there’s a freezing drizzle starting to sting my face.

I set my jaw and speed my steps toward the farthest most cabin, where I managed to jimmy the lock open that first time months ago.

But to my horror, when I get close, I see every cabin’s windows and doors are now secured with fitted wooden covers. Probably the close of the season here but it doesn’t look good for me.

I dig through my backpack and pull out my eight-inch bowie knife; a birthday gift from my father on my eleventh birthday, but the covers on the doors are fitted tight and locked in place. I try to use leverage on a window as well, but the well-made covers don’t give an inch.

It’s dark, my hair is soaked and I’m starting to shiver. The drizzle has turned to a full-on rain and the temperature is hovering right at freezing, so the precipitation is sticking to everything and freezing in place.

Great.

I huddle on the small porch under the overhang and pull out a silver survival blanket that’s rolled up in my pack, then tug it around me. I just have to pray I’ll make it to first light.

3

Lachlan

IT TOOK EVERYTHING I had not to slam my fist down the throat of the manager of the restaurant. The only thing that stopped me was the fact that it wasn’t actually his fault.

After sitting there waiting for nearly twenty minutes, I stomped down the back hallway to find him on the phone, the waitress nowhere in sight.

A few threats later, he finally told me she left. Not just left, she ran.

He’d tried to get her to come out and receive the apology I’d made sure was waiting for her, but instead she packed up and left.

What the fuck?

He didn’t know where she was, didn’t understand what had just happened—that much was obvious—so I stormed out and went on a frantic search in the streets and alleys of the small Main Street area trying to find her.

My search was futile. She’s gone. Like a vapor in warm air, I drew her in then she disappeared.

I found a shitty little used car lot and bought a beat up 1970’s Ford pick-up for cash. And for a handful of extra notes, he didn’t ask for my I.D. when I filled out the title transfer paperwork.

The guy who sold me the truck, after some inquiry on where I could stay—because I’m not leaving until I find her—sat me down with the owner of the place who had a hunting cabin not too far away that he let me rent for another chunk of cash without a contract.

Translated…I don’t want anyone to know who I am. Or where I am.

I’ve been lucky, as far as I know no one has recognized me, and I’d like to keep it that way.

After I left there, I drove farther out of the quaint downtown looking for her. The manager said she’d been staying in a room above the restaurant but said since she took her things when she ran out, I’m thinking she’s not heading back there, at least not tonight.

I don’t understand why she burned her entire existence the moment I showed up. I think it was obvious I was trying to help her, not hurt her. All I know is, there’s a vacant spot in my chest where my heart used to be, and it’s got her face carved all over it.

Up until yesterday when I stormed out of that meeting, my life had been on a trajectory upward that I didn’t see coming and couldn’t control.

It’s a dream for most. I’m not complaining, I’ve been lucky beyond words in so many ways and I’m grateful for the things I’ve seen and done.

First, just out of high school, my buddies and I formed a band. Honestly, we just wanted to get into bars and maybe spend some time with pretty girls.

See, we weren’t the popular guys in school. We were in the marching band, played Dungeons & Dragons too much and were not in the cool crowd.

After a year of driving our parents crazy playing in their basements and garages though, all that changed. We got a gig at a hometown bar where a producer from a music label happened to be slumming. From there, it was a whirlwind of studios, contracts, tours and more women screaming my name than I cared to remember.

Tags: Dani Wyatt
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