I leave my cat to enjoy his treat and put my shoes in the hall closet. My father put a lot of work into updating the house over the years. For twenty years the original homeowners operated a dairy farm on the south side of the property. They farmed tobacco and had an apple orchard too. When the old man passed away the widow was all that was left. Her sons had passed away years before and my father had worked for them. She told my dad that he could buy it if he promised not to divide the land up and sell it. He gave his word and now I’m keeping it.
“House is clear. I don’t think he’ll bother you tonight. He’s probably holed up somewhere licking his wounds. I can give you my number. He shows up or you get scared whatever. Give me a call. I have no problem kicking his ass again. You own a gun?”
I shake my head.
“You should get one.”
“Okay.” The sensation of someone walking over my graves washes over me and I shiver.
“You got a pen…paper?”
“Yeah. There’s a pad in the kitchen. Through here.” I lead him through the dining room to the alcove between it and the kitchen that houses a stool and telephone.
Jagger’s brows arch. “A rotary?”
“My dad was old fashioned.” I shrug and he scrawls his phone number on the pad of post its.
“All right. You good?”
“Yeah. I’m so sorry. Did you want a drink, or I can give you gas money for the ride?”
He scoffs. “Darlin’, I’m good but don’t offend me with that shit. I may be a biker, but I’ve got some fucking manners. A woman I’m taking care of never pays.”
“Sorry.”
“No need to apologize. I’ll see myself out but lock all your doors. I checked your windows, they’re all good.”
“I will. Thanks again.”
> He lifts his chin and I stay rooted in place.
The front door shuts and I lean into the wall for support as the heaviness of the night settles over me. Letting out a shaky breath, I check the doors and turn out the lights as I move through the house.
Upstairs in the master bedroom, I strip to my underwear and grab clean ones out of my dresser drawers. I go into the bathroom and turn on the hot water for the clawfoot tub and plug the bottom. I pour in some lavender bath salts then poke around in the drawers of the double sink vanity until I find what I’m searching for, a hair tie to pull my hair up off my neck. I washed it this morning and I’m too drained to do it again tonight. I pile my hair into a messy bun, avoiding seeing my reflection in the mirror. I’m not brave enough to assess the damage yet.
Stripped to nothing, I ease my body down in the tub. The warm water soothes my skin along with my soul.
I hope making this change…this move to Drag Creek isn’t a mistake.
After divorcing Nicholas, I needed a fresh start. We ended on good terms, but I needed a change of scenery. I’m not sure this was exactly what I had in mind, but I had the house sitting here, and my car was loaded down with my belongings. Then I was offered a job. Fate lined up and here I am.
New beginning.
Chapter 3
Jagger
By the time I made it back to my tent at the campground I was fuckin’ dead to the world. I sit up and scrub a palm over my face, rubbing the creases of my eyes. The front of my tent unzips and Moonie ducks his head inside. “Prez wants you.”
“He up at the cabin?”
“Yup.”
“He in a bad mood?”
“Fuck if I know. Romeo told me to get you, so I got you.”
“Right. I’ll be there after I piss.” He nods and disappears.