There’s a single light on inside and no other cars.
He parks next to a pile of what looks like fresh-cut firewood and helps me off the bike.
“You okay?” he asks.
I nod and hand over the helmet.
He’s bare-armed with all of his tattoos visible. And he drove us up here like that, despite the fifty-degree weather.
He leads us inside and goes directly to the thermostat, then leaves the camper again.
And that’s when I see it.
Cat litter and a litter box under the kitchenette table. A bag of the cat kibble that I feed Peggy. Two pet bowls on the table beside a pile of cat toys.
My eyes sting.
He said he’d take care of Peggy’s supplies when he offered to let me stay here.
He didn’t say they’d magically appear out of thin air without me needing to make a list and sending him back down to the store.
I set the backpack carrier down on the couch and unzip it so Peggy can explore at her leisure. Once I have her litter box set up and food out for her, I take a minute to escape to the teensy-tiny starkly white bathroom. While I’m in there, I pause to stare at myself in the mirror over the sink.
“You’ve got this,” I whisper to my reflection. “You’ve been through worse. You’re okay now. You’ll keep being okay.”
My reflection stares back dubiously.
Clearly I don’t believe myself.
And have I been through worse?
Have I?
I remember Oliver, the boyfriend who stole half my life savings with that lie about his mom a couple years after I graduated nursing school, and I decide I don’t care to contemplate if this is worse or not.
When I leave the bathroom, Davis is back inside. He’s set a bottle of some kind of alcohol on the compact coffee table in front of the tan leather couch.
And that’s when it hits me that we’re in a camper trailer.
With likely a single bedroom.
And a single bed.
My stomach dips.
This was a bad idea.
I’m definitely sleeping on the couch.
Peggy is hopping from the living room area into the kitchen, eyeing both of us warily. She came to me missing her front right leg, and she hops more than she walks, and she’s my favorite cat that I’ve ever had. The cuddliest, sweetest cat ever.
Not that I’ve had many.
Grandma didn’t do pets. The two older cats I got in college were my first pets.
They both left me not long after half my life savings went to California with Oliver the ex.
“How did you get supplies here?” I ask Davis. “I mean, thank you, buthow?”
