“Adam,” I said. “It’s fine. I’m fine.”
He sighed, as if collecting himself. “It’s good to see you, Mandy.”
Before I could react, he gave me a big, tight hug, one that nearly made my eyes pop out of my head. “Good to see you, too,” I grunted.
He let go of me and looked at Lizzie then at Parker. “Hi, Lizzie. And, um, hey Peter.”
“Parker,” Parker said, quick to correct him.
“Parker.” Adam didn’t seem too concerned that he’d gotten my son’s name wrong, another irritating thing about him. “Anyway,” he said, putting his hands on his hips. “Came by to say hi and look at the place. Why don’t you all get settled and I’ll finish up. We can do some dinner after that.”
“Actually,” Lizzie said. “We’ve already got an evening planned.”
“Shouldn’t take me long,” Adam said, ignoring her. “I’ll wrap up and order some food.”
“We have food,” I countered, my voice stern.
He glanced at me and nodded, then said, “Then I’ll join you.”
Lizzie and I shared a look, as if we both knew we weren’t going to be able to get out of this one. “Wine,” she said. “Let’s get back to the wine.”
Parker, Lizzie, and I went into the house as Adam started his work, taking notes and scanning the property with eager eyes. But as soon as he was out of sight, I was thinking about Hunter. Tall and powerful, he seemed almost a part of the woods, like he was meant to be among them.
I had a strong, strong feeling we weren’t going to stay out of one another’s lives for long.
Hunter
I stayed home that night, working on the damage Mandy had done to my truck, steadily working my way through my bottle of whiskey until it was about half-gone. I couldn’t stop thinking about her, and I didn’t like it. It was a good thing that I had plenty of shit to do around the property.
After taking a look at the door, I decided it couldn’t be saved. The exterior was crumpled, the window mechanism broken along with the handle, and the glass had a jagged crack. So I went to work with my tools, pulling it off and tossing it aside, attaching a cut piece of orange tarp to cover it for the night.
The next day I’d go into town and pick up a new door from the junkyard, but for the time being the tarp would do the job. Once the tarp was secured, I poured myself a fresh glass of whiskey and stood on my porch, leaning against the wood exterior of my cabin watching the thick grey clouds roil overhead.
It’d be another night of rain, which was fine by me. I could work on the stove over the next hour, getting it ready to do its job of heating my home.
But I couldn’t take my eyes off the truck. I’d snapped at Mandy when she’d accidentally backed into me. I wasn’t crazy about how I’d reacted.
Something fed into my anger, however, something I hadn’t told her about – and never would. That truck wasn’t just any pickup – it was one I’d bought with my ex, the woman I was damn certain I was going to spend the rest of my life with.
We’d bought the truck in preparation for the moving we’d do when we finally bought a house together. That never came to pass, of course. But every time I looked at that truck, I was reminded of her, of those plans we’d made, of the life we had together that was forever derailed by what she’d done.
By what they’d done.
And as sick as it was, the truck was the was reminder I had of the life we’d had before it all went south. It was hard to imagine that we were once so happy in love. But what she’d done was so awful it blotted out all that. Hanging onto the truck was my way of holding onto those memories of the good times.
So, as dumb as it was, the truck was more than a truck. When Mandy had smashed into it, she’d reminded me that it was just a thing, something that could be broken like I’d been.
And I’d snapped at her for it. Maybe it was out of line, but it’d send the message to give me my space, that I wasn’t a man she could get close to, even as a neighbor.
Why Mandy and her boy were in town, I could only guess, but it didn’t matter a damn bit to me. I was there to lose myself, to stay in those woods until whatever happened, happened.
A drizzle started as I finished the last bit of my whiskey. My phone rang inside, so glass in hand, I went in to answer it. It wasn’t a call, but a text from Sam. He wanted to double-check to make sure I was still planning on coming in the next day for my first shift. I fired a text back to let him know to expect me.
The thought of going into town, of socializing, was enough to make me refill my glass. I grabbed my tools and set to work on the stove, the rain outside picking up until it was a full-on storm, the wind howling as it rushed through the trees.
I put on some music. The generator out back powered my cabin, so I did have the luxury of nonessentials like playing music. Townes Van Zandt filled the air, the mellow music letting me lose myself in my work.
It didn’t take much doing to fix the stove, and when it was ready, I filled it with some wood I’d cut earlier in the day and started a fire. I stoked the flames until they’d eaten into thicker pieces of timber. And when the fire burned to my satisfaction, I closed the metal grate and let the heat radiate through the cabin.
It felt nice – warm and toasty. I kicked off my boots, dropped onto the couch, and put my feet up on the box I was using as a temporary coffee table. Before too long, my place would be filled with furniture that I’d make myself from the woods on my property, but for that night, I was pleased to be alone with my whiskey and my music and my solitude, the crackle of the flames blending with the pattering of the rain.
I drifted off to sleep, my dreams intense, invasive. They were strange dreams, dreams of me in my home, Mandy there with me. And they were all the same. Her in my cabin, her boy there with us. The scene was calm at first. Then a feeling of dread would form in the pit of my stomach, gnawing and aggressive.
There was something in the woods. Many, many somethings.
I’d get up, grab one of my guns, and run to the front porch, ready to defend Mandy and her boy and my home. The things in the woods – creatures out for blood – would draw closer and closer.
And as determined as I was to defend us, I feared I wouldn’t be strong enough.
That same damn dream played out over and over during the night until I woke up the next morning, birds chirping in the woods and the fire now nothing but smoldering embers. I wondered what in the hell that had been about.
A cord of pain cut through my head, and when my bleary eyes focused on the empty glass of whiskey on the box in front of me, I knew the cause. I heaved myself off the couch and stripped out of my clothes, wanting to shower and change into something clean. Normally I didn’t give a damn about matters like that, especially these days. But those dreams had put me in a strange headspace. I wanted to get moving just so I didn’t have to think about them.
It was a little after nine, and I was due at the auto shop at noon. That left some time for business around the cabin. A shower was the first order of the day, so once I stepped out of my boxer-briefs and kicked them aside, I turned on the water and got in.
The shower was just what I needed. I didn’t have much of a hangover, but whatever unpleasantness was there had gone by the time I turned the water off. I grabbed a towel and dried my body before stepping in front of the mirror and wiping away the steam.