"My grandmother has enough food to feed the whole state," she says, sitting down with her back toward me.
I look over and see that it’s just past two. "I slept six hours straight."
"Lucky," she says as she chews. "I got four hours."
"When did you get home?" I ask, grabbing a serving of pie and walking over to the dining room table.
"Quinn kicked me out at eight," she says while I sit down in front of her.
"Quinn?" I ask, surprised.
"My grandmother and grandfather came," she says, and I laugh. "They threatened us all." She rolls her eyes. "Willow got scared that they would ‘die.’" She uses air quotes. I look at her confused. "According to them, they worry about us so much they could die."
I shake my head. "Thank you," I say while I eat, "for feeling sorry for me."
"Oh, I didn’t feel sorry for you. I felt sorry for anyone who had to smell you." She scrunches her nose as she finishes eating. She gets up. "I’m going to go and see if I can get another couple of hours before I go to the bar."
I try not to watch her walk toward the kitchen, but my eyes deceive me, the shorts tight enough to mold to her ass. My cock springs to action, and when she turns around, my eyes fly to my plate as my heart speeds up at being caught by her. It’s not the first time my cock has sprung for her. It’s literally an everyday occurrence at this point, and no matter how many times I tell myself to get over her, my body fights with me.
"I’ll let myself out," I say, raising my head.
"Take your time," she says, walking back to her bedroom and closing the door behind her. I finish my plate and clean up before I walk back to the bedroom and look in the bag. I grab the boxers and then slip on the jeans next with a T-shirt that fits me just a touch too tight. I turn and see that the jeans are tight on my ass. I squat down, hoping to stretch them, but nothing happens.
I grab the bag and stuff my old clothes in my hand. I slip on my boots and softly close the door behind me.
I take my phone out and see that I have a couple of texts checking up on me and another couple of phone calls from Billy and Charlotte. Never in my life have I had someone worry about if I was okay, but this family has taken me in with open arms. Not once have they looked down on me. When I first came into town, I had five dollars left. I was one day away from eating from the dumpster when Ethan not only gave me a job but also gave me shelter.
I toss the bag on the seat and throw the clothes in the garbage can. I get into the truck and make my way back over to the barn. The sun’s shining high, and the heat hits my arms right away.
Parking the truck on the side of the road, I spot Jacob’s sheriff truck at the entrance. I make my way toward the barn, ducking under the yellow tape. Even though I knew there was no barn there, seeing it again in the sunlight makes me stop in my tracks. Knowing that it’s gone and seeing it with my own eyes knocks me on my ass. The lump in my throat grows when I see that everything is dust. Jacob and Ethan both walk around, looking down at the ground around the barn.
Ethan must sense someone is here because he looks up and starts laughing. "What the fuck are you wearing?" he asks, making Jacob look in my direction.
"I borrowed clothes from Quinn," I tell them, walking toward them.
Jacob laughs when I finally stand in front of him. "If you lather yourself in oil, you might pass for one of those calendar boys." I shake my head.
"I’m going to buy clothes after this," I tell them, looking around.
"I can’t believe nothing is left." I walk, stepping on some of the debris, picking up a piece of tin. "When do we start cleanup?"
"We are trying to see if anything here is out of place," Jacob says.
"What are you looking for exactly?" I ask. Getting up, I look around, walking through the ashes.
"Anything you think shouldn’t be here," Ethan says, and I watch as they make their way down different sides. Something white catches my eyes in the grass a couple of feet from where the side of the barn used to be.
Once I get there, I squat down and pick up the white piece and hold it in my hand. "Jacob," I call his name, and they both look at me. "Would a cigarette be out of place?"