By the time I stopped my thoughts from spiraling, Tuck was snoring softly beside me, and I doubted I’d get a wink of sleep. I dozed on and off until the sun came up and by then I was restless, tired, and pissed off. I had spent my adult life alone, I had let one man in and my heart was paying the consequences.
Why the hell would I put myself through that again?
I went to the bathroom to splash cold water on my face, noticing her toothbrush on the counter along with a dozen bottles and jars. My jaw clenched. She was taking over before the place was even hers. Worse, they looked like they belonged, as much as she did. A feminine touch in a place that needed it. Life in a place that was sadly lacking.
I got dressed — wouldn’t want to be caught drinking coffee half naked again — and clicked on the machine. As the coffee pot hissed and spat, I looked around the place that had been my home for the last year. It was the same but different. There were parts that were still Walt: his books, his favorite chair. There were parts that were mine. My boots, my coat, my favorite coffee mug. But now there was her too. An overly fluffy blanket on the corner of the couch in an obnoxious shade of robin’s egg blue. The lingering scent of her shampoo, somehow smelling like oranges and cookies and her.
I was being pushed out of my own life. I could fight like hell to keep it. I had been fighting my entire life. Or, I could just let her have it. She was important to Walt, and I was used to being alone. Or I had been.
I heard Kara’s door open and then the bathroom door shut. The sound of the old pipes coming to life echoed through the kitchen. Suddenly I couldn’t stand the idea of facing her. I poured coffee into a travel mug, shoved my feet into my boots and went out the front door with Tuck at my side.
The morning air hit me like a slap; sharp and clean, and exactly what I needed. Tuck trotted ahead of me, down the narrow trail, nose to the ground as if the world hadn’t fundamentally shifted overnight. I envied him that.
The forest was waking up. Birds calling, branches creaking, the distant rush of water somewhere down the slope. Normally, this was my favorite part of the day. The part where everything made sense. Today, my thoughts kept circling back to a woman in my cabin.
“This is temporary,” I told Tuck, even though he hadn’t asked. He flicked an ear but kept walking, clearly not convinced.
We walked farther than usual, my stride long and punishing,like I could outpace the mess in my head. I told myself I was angry because she was here, because she might take the cabin, because she disrupted my routine. I didn’t tell myself the other thing: that some selfish, traitorous part of me didn’t want her to leave at all.
By the time we turned back, the edge had worn off my anger, leaving something worse behind. Resignation.
When the cabin came into view, quiet and unchanged from the outside, I slowed. I let Tuck off the leash, and he bounded ahead, tail high. I followed more cautiously, bracing myself for the swirl of feelings to start all over again.
I needed a shower, and the rest of my coffee. Then I needed life to start making sense again.
Chapter Seven
Kara
Iwoke feeling energized for my fresh start. Uncle Walt had been gone for a month, and the sheets on his bed had collected a fine layer of dust. I’d need to clean the room and change the bedding, but first, a shower. The one thing I hadn’t done last night that I definitely should have.
I scooted across the hall to the bathroom and cranked the water as warm as I could stand it. The cabin didn’t have a huge hot water tank, so I couldn’t stay in as long as I wanted to, but I pulled out my familiar vanilla-and-citrus shampoo and worked it through my hair. I thought I heard the front door slam as I was rinsing my conditioner; Grant must be an early riser too. I was just luxuriating under the spray when the water started going cold.
I took my time blow-drying my hair smooth, then moisturized, dressed, and got ready for the day. Not to look my best for Grant, obviously. Just to feel like myself, despite the turn ofevents over the last twenty-four hours.
When I left the bathroom and wandered into the kitchen, I found half a pot of coffee waiting in the machine. Grant didn’t seem to be around, so I helped myself. I took my coffee outside and took in the view.
I’d forgotten how much I loved it up here.
As a kid, I’d visited often. There had been trails all over the forest, including a favorite one behind the cabin. When other kids had been around, we had wandered these trails for hours. I’d had a favorite. One that led to a big rock with a flat top. I had sat out there reading or playing. Curiosity got the best of me, and I stepped off the porch and wandered to the back of the cabin. It took me a minute to find the path I was looking for. It was mostly overgrown now, but I followed it anyway. My coffee slopped over my hand when my shoe got caught on a root, but after a few minutes I found the rock. Not that I expected a giant boulder to disappear, more that my memory might not be up to remembering it. I scrambled up the side of it and sat down, the cold seeping through my leggings, the surface uncomfortable under my ass. The place may not be exactly what I remembered it to be, but not everything had changed. It was still my place.
I sat there for longer than I should have, just getting reacquainted with the place. But reality always interfered. I realized I hadn’t checked my email since I had arrived.
I was a freelance graphic designer, technically working for myself, but if I didn’t work, I didn’t get paid.
With that in mind, I headed back inside.
And immediately froze.
Grant stood in the kitchen in nothing but a towel.
Again.
When the hell had he turned up?
“Why are you always naked in the kitchen?” I demanded, slamming my cup down on the counter.
He scowled. “I would’ve been naked in the bathroom, but I seem to be out of hot water.”
