Chapter 1
Cody
It’s not every day you see a beautiful pregnant woman standing on the welcome mat of The Moose Bar and Grill.
She looks lost…scared even. I’d be scared too if I walked into the only place open around here past 9 p.m. and they had a damn moose standing at the entrance with a sign that saidNo shoes, no shirt? Ladies, we prefer it that way.
She reads the sign that saysSeat Yourselfand I watch her snag an empty booth in the corner.
Something inside me is telling me to go talk to her and it’s too strong of a feeling to ignore. I take one last sip of my beer and then look back over my shoulder at her. The waitress, Margie, is standing there, writing down her order. So I wait.
When Margie comes back behind the bar, her eyes wander to the girl once again before turning to me. The look speaks for itself. A random pregnant girl that no one knows doesn’t just stumble into this bar. Not in small town like Bellamy, North Dakota.
“She seems distraught,” Margie whispers. “Is Mason on duty tonight? She’s got something going on.”
“He’s off tonight. Should I go talk to her?” I set my beer down.
“Worth a shot.” She shrugs and walks away.
I leave my drink and slowly make my way over. My mom’s voice echoes in my head, telling me that I come across intimidating and that I should always remember that.
So I take a quick, deep breath and force my shoulders to loosen up.
“Hi,” I say when I reach the end of the table. “I’m Cody. Cody Jennings.”
She barely looks at me. “Karissa,” she mutters.
“Mind if I sit?”
Her brown eyes stare at me. “Do you know who I am or something?”
“No. Should I?
“Do you know a Devon Schmidt?” Her eyes are red and filled with exhaustion. She looks out the window beside her for a second, the neon sign in the window showcasing the dark circles embedded under eyes.
“Doesn’t ring a bell.”
She fixes her curly hair, pulling it around to frame her face.
“Where you from?” I ask while swiftly sliding into the cushioned bench seat across from her.
“Sioux Falls. South Dakota.”
“That’s a hike…”
“Eight hours. I’ve been driving all day.” She rubs her forehead and her chest heaves in a breath.
“Where you trying to go?”
“Canada,” she says. “He can’t get into Canada,” she mumbles.
“Who?”
She eyes me like I should know who she’s referring to and then looks away.
“Devon?” I guess.
Before she can respond, the sharp crack of a new game of pool echoes from the next room. She practically jumps out of herseat. Her hand flies to her stomach and she holds her breath for a second before exhaling.
