His deep brown eyes locked with mine for a booming pound of my heart.
“Sorry,” he said, ripping his gaze from mine to stare out of the windshield. “I didn’t mean to laugh. It’s just the thought is sadly a better idea than the nonexistent plan I was running with.”
I snapped my attention back to the road. Strange thoughts ran through my mind, but I didn’t know what they meant.
“So you never… planned for something like this?” My question might have been a test. And I didn’t doubt that he knew it too.
“No,” he said with a huffed-out laugh that sounded slightly bitter. “I mean, I had a go bag ready. Had money set aside. My money, that I’d earned.”
“I didn’t say anything,” I slipped in there.
“Yeah, but I canfeelyou questioning everything about me.”
“Maybe you’re just being paranoid,” I shot back instead of coming up with some bullshit denial that we both would know was a lie.
He sighed and shook his head like he was disappointed.
“I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t come and rescued me,” he said softly.
“Reed sent me. So he’s really the hero here,” I said back.
“Still, I appreciate everything you’ve done.”
There was a beat of silence that slipped by. I didn’t like the way he was being nice to me. My skin was starting to crawl. I felt the need to say something… but what the fuck was I supposed to say to that?
“Thank you,” he said softly, genuinely, before I could get anything out.
And like the well-adjusted, smooth person that I was, I responded with a grunt.
8
Ford
I wasn’t sure what to think of the two-story rectangle farmhouse that came into view once we cleared the tree line.
It was… cute, if not a bit rundown. Maybe neglected was a better word for it. It was almost quaint the way the roof and ground around it were covered in snow. I hoped it had electricity, but then I remembered that I was stuck in a situation that didn’t give me the luxury of wishing and hoping for things like electricity and hot food.
The tires skidded as Austin brought the truck to a stop near what I assumed was a side door.
“This is it,” Austin said as he cut the engine.
He left the screwdriver stuck in the ignition, working as a key, and opened the door and hopped out. I rushed out of the truck and began gathering the things in the small back seat I didn’t even see the point of. The clothes we’d gotten at the thrift shop and the stuff he’d bought at the store a few towns back. Food, mostly. He came around and took a few bags from my hands with a hesitant smile.
As he opened the door with a key on his keyring, I couldn’t help but study him.
His posture was stiff. His tired eyes narrowed sharply. He stepped over the threshold, moving like someone who belonged here but also didn’t want to be here. His shoulders were tense,and it took all my will to keep my free hand by my side when I really wanted to give him some sort of comforting touch.
He walked through the mud room, and I followed closely behind. He flipped up light switches, making the house come alive with a dim glow. We ended up in a big open kitchen that was very fitting for the look of the outside. Very country chic. A smile played on my lips as my eyes moved to take everything in. A farm animal boarder ran around the room right in the middle of the wall. Everything from a stand mixer to ceramic canisters made for things like flour and sugar decorated the counters. There was also a large ceramic rooster that I could only assume was a cookie jar. The cabinets were light wood with round light gold knobs.
Practically abandoned property… yeah, sure.
Austin pulled open the fridge. I peeked over his shoulder, surprised to find it clean. It was empty except for a jar of pickles and a jar of green olives sitting on the door. He began putting up the groceries like it was a normal day.
“Are we going to talk about this place? Or just gloss over the fact that you know this house in the middle of the woods was here and that you have a key to get into said place?”
He snorted as he opened the freezer to shove some of the frozen groceries inside. I noticed a few stacks of packaged meat, but I couldn’t tell what they were. He took one out and set it on the counter. By the looks of it, I wondered if Austin was a hunter and if he’d killed the animal himself, broken it down or whatever you called it, and packaged it up like that. Or maybe it was someone he knew. Did he share this house with someone? Was it even his to use?
He clearly wasn’t in the mood to give me any answers, so I thought it was best to keep my mouth shut a little longer.
