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I’m proud of the home I’ve built here though. Everything was hand-picked down to the beams of wood and the nails holding them together. The lot sits in the middle of the National Forest, in the heart of the mountains, right outside city limits. I only own about five acres, but I’m surrounded by hundreds of acres of woods and mountains, giving me all the space I need to breathe and reset my life. Or, so I thought.
I enter my room and discard my clothes directly into the tub of the washer, a perk to living alone, not needing wasted communal space for a laundry room.
Once in the bathroom I get the hot water running and step into the walk-in shower. Another thing I customized, was a large walk-in with a stone bench and stone walls made of river rock.
I stand under the hot spray, letting it beat down on my neck and back. It doesn’t help ease the tension though. I wipe my hand across my face contemplating what to do next.
When I went back to the clearing where I first saw Callie, I did my best to pinpoint exactly where I wounded both of the men. I found some traces of blood on the river bank where the short guy was, the one I shot when he was throwing rocks. My fingers twitch again thinking about getting my hands on him.
I followed his blood and it headed in the direction where the primary guy had been standing in the tree line with the gun. He’s the one I really want to get a hold of. He almost killed her.
Their blood wasn’t excessive though, it was only enough for me to track about 100 yards before I lost the trail. It means both of them weren’t badly wounded and are long gone.
I lean over, bracing both of my hands against the shower wall, hanging my head. I don’t know what’s worse, telling Callie that the two guys who took her aren’t dead or that without more information there is no way for me to find them. She deserves justice. Even if I don’t ever get my hands on them, they deserve to rot in prison. Which reminds me that I still need to call the local Sheriff’s department and let them know what happened. Fuck, this is a mess.
The thought of handing Callie off to a Sheriff puts a knot in my chest, it feels like it’s too soon to say goodbye. I feel responsible for her now, and I don’t think she’s safe yet. A deeper part of me just feels possessive over her. She chose to trust me, and I don’t take that gift lightly. Trust is the difference between life and death where I come from, and even then, sometimes it’s not enough to save someone.
Hell, she might not even be telling me the whole truth. I’ve put my neck out to help this girl and she could be lying about who she is, or her involvement. I don’t think that’s the case, I’m usually a pretty good judge of character, but it wouldn’t be unheard of for a man to blindly follow a woman as gorgeous as she is. Her fear was too real, her tears too genuine, I don’t think she’s lying about anything, but I need to watch myself just in case.
Shaking off my thoughts of how goddamn pretty she is and how good she felt in my arms earlier, I finish my shower under a cold spray.
Deciding not to delay things any longer, I get ready knowing I need to talk to Callie, get some more answers, and discuss a plan.
Getting a t-shirt and some sweatpants out of my walk-in closet, I decide to grab a couple of things for Callie in case she wants fresh clothes once she wakes up. I walk back into the living room to find her still sleeping. Looking at her peaceful state I can’t bring myself to wake her yet, so I decide to make some food since I haven’t eaten all day. We’ll eat. Then we’ll talk.
* * *
I’m dumping pasta into the boiling water when the tingling on the back of my neck alerts me that she’s awake. I continue stirring the noodles and dump a jar of spaghetti sauce into a pot on the stove, not sure how to start a conversation with her.
After I hear the faint sound of her clearing her throat, I finally turn around, trying not to act as awkward as I feel. I’m not used to having guests, my culinary efforts are proof of that.
“Which door is the bathroom?” She asks meekly. I realize as she stands there wrapped in the blanket that she isn’t wearing pants.
“Here,” I grab the pile of clothes off the bar stool that I brought from my closet and head down the hallway, “I know they won’t fit but I thought you’d want some clean clothes until I can wash yours.” I stop in the middle of the hallway and open the door to the right, setting the clothes down on the bathroom counter.
“If you want to take a shower, the towels are in the cabinet,” I say as she eyeballs the tub longingly, her actions speaking for her as she slides past me into the bathroom. Our bodies don’t make any contact, yet I feel her nearness like an electric current.
“Take your time, I’ll save a plate for you when you’re ready,” I ground out, shutting the door. I blow out a deep breath before I turn to head back to the kitchen, overanalyzing our one-sided conversation as I walk away. I hear the lock click on the bathroom door. Not surprising after the day she’s had that she might still be wary of being alone in a stranger’s home. She doesn’t know me, not truly, but I plan to make sure she feels safe as long as she’s with me.
Chapter Eleven
Callie
I was so glad to see Nathan was back, though I was a little startled that he came in without me noticing. From the look of his dampened hair, I slept through him coming home and showering, only waking up once he was banging around in the kitchen. My stomach must have been more demanding than my need for sleep.
Now I am standing in his bathroom, not sure what to do. Well, pee, I definitely need to pee, but showering seems like a daunting task. I need to shower all the dirt and grime off of me though, so I might as well just get it over with. I strip the remainder of my clothes, suddenly feeling exposed even in the privacy of the bathroom. I make sure the door is locked one more time. I don’t think Nathan would walk in on me, but it makes me feel better regardless.
Turning towards the vanity, I see myself in the mirror for the first time. I’m frozen for a second, looking at a reflection that I don’t recognize. I look crazy.
My hair is a mess, so I tug on the hair tie, letting my auburn locks fall down my back. My temple is bruised from Tony’s boot, and my lip is cut from who knows what.
Afraid critiquing myself anymore will make me cry again, I shift my focus. I poke through the cabinets until I find a towel, seeing a toothbrush and a couple of other travel-sized products still in their packaging, so I pull them out too. I’ll pay Nathan back for the stuff I use, but the chance to use toothpaste and deodorant is too good to pass up.
I turn the water on and pull back the curtain to step into the tub. Noticing this isn’t a standard-sized shower, the tub is more of a jacuzzi-type thing. I have always envied people who had bathtubs big enough to actually soak in. I mourn the chance to use it, knowing my muscles are going to ache tomorrow. But, I need to get in and out, I don’t want to take advantage of Nathan’s kindness. I’m already stealing his hygiene products.
While rinsing my hair, I realize how sore my wrists are. The hot water is making my raw skin sting, so I try my best to keep it out of the direct spray. Everything is sensitive, the skin on my forehead, my lip, the scrapes, and bruises all down my arms and legs. It could be worse, I could be dead right now. The thought makes me want to sob. I’ve never felt so mentally and physically fragile like the smallest thing might break me. Wary of my thoughts, I busy myself with showering before I end up as a puddle in the bottom of the tub.
A couple of bottles lining the shelf built into the wall of the shower catch my eye. Shampoo, conditioner, body wash, shaving cream, and a pink razor… I’m dumbfounded for a second, of course, a woman lives here. All of these products are women’s, and I don’t know why I hadn’t thought about it before. Suddenly feeling like I am invading someone’s space, I quickly use a little of each product, rushing through the process, feeling wrong about being here in another woman’s home. Why wouldn’t Nathan mention that?
