“Anytime.”
I get out, help her down from the truck, and then walk her to the door. Once she’s safely inside, I get back in and reverse down her driveway. My mind, though, is still on our conversation.“I like my freedom. Much like someone else I know.”
It’s never occurred to me that Mom and I are alike in this way. I always assumed she was alone because she was too scaredto go out and meet someone. I never dreamed she was alone intentionally, but it makes sense.
I grew up in a house where attachment meant turmoil. My mother loved my father, and it cost her everything—her peace, her happiness, and her sense of stability. Loving him meant pain. Being alone gives her everything he did not.
But it’s not love that’s the problem for either of us. I believe in it, and I respect it, and Mom does, too. It’s the attachment that follows that’s the poison. The idea of letting someone else hold that kind of power over me isn’t a risk I’m willing to take. It’s apparently one she’s not willing to take, either.
My phone rings as I’m pulling up to the house I’m renting from Mayor Blackwell. I cut the engine and answer the call as I hop out of the truck. “Hey, Jasper. What’s up?”
“Hey, man. What’s going on?”
“I just got home. Have a call with Achilles in a second.”
“Cool, cool.” He yawns. “I saw Sam Towbridge today. He’s back in town for a couple of days and wondered if we wanted to meet up with him tomorrow night at Patsy’s.”
I shrug, letting myself inside the house. Otis barrels toward me. As soon as he hits the rug, he skids straight into the wall.Every. Time.
“Sure,” I say, scratching Otis behind the ears. “What time?”
“I’ll check with him and let you know. Sound good?”
“Yup. Text me,” I say.
“Will do. Later.”
“Bye.”
Otis swats at my hand as if he’s embarrassed that I saw him wipe out.
“Should I just move the rug?” I ask the cat. “Because you’re apparently never going to learn, big guy.”
He meows an answer and then follows me to the kitchen, making desperate attempts to get me to trip over him the whole way.
“Fine,” I say. “I’ll move the rug. But the entry will be slippery from wet shoes, so you still need to be careful, okay?”
He rolls over onto his back and mimes kneading the air with his paws.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” I say, laughing at him.
I slide my phone across the kitchen counter and rummage around in the fridge for a drink. All I can find is a bottle of tea. Naturally, it makes me think of Audrey because everything makes me think of Audrey.
She’s occupied my thoughts for most of the past couple of days. Thinking of her is like working on a puzzle that has a million colorful pieces, and your cat just knocked half of them onto the floor. You’re not sure you’ll ever have all the pieces to complete it.
But I’m a bit closer today. I feel it.
According to Gray, she’s sweet and innocent. That checks out. Hell, she didn’t even curse when faced with a bloody arm and a request to take a needle to it. But she did it—and she did a damn good job. Afterward, she was still concerned but, I think, also proud of her work.
I sigh.The lengths I’ll go to get her hands on me.
It’s as if Audrey is scattered. She’s soft spoken and innocent, but is willing to do the damnedest shit. She’s alone at a cabin in the middle of a winter storm, for fuck’s sake. The picture was blurry … until I discovered the whimsy list.
She told me she might be having an existential crisis, that she’s boring, and going through a Stoic-y era. None of that makes a damn bit of sense … unless you factor in the whimsy list.
“It’s more of an identity crisis with a dose of personal philosophical questions for fun.”
I lean against the counter, watching Otis chase his tail like a dog, as more pieces of the puzzle fall into place. Then it hits me, practically smashing me in the side of the head. My jaw tumbles to the floor.
