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Of all the days, it had to be today.
I slammed the door of the cabin with all my might and went straight for the whiskey, tipping the bottle up and pouring it directly into my mouth until I’d swallowed enough to feel the tension in my shoulders lessen slightly.
I’d marched over to that camper still drunk thinking I could scare her away. But after one good look at Sawyer not only was I stone cold sober, I wasn’t sure which of us walked away more scared.
When she yelled out for whoever she thought I’d been to not hurt her and that she’d rather be killed than go back, every threat on my tongue died. My heart panged.
Which was impossible. I hadn’t had a heart in years.
The thought was almost as ridiculous as her long white nightdress. It was like something my grandmother would have worn.
Yet…I wanted to see what she was hiding underneath it.
I wanted to see more of her.
All of her.
That was the thought that sent my irritation into overdrive.
Today of all days…
Wavy and wild reddish-brown hair framed her heart shaped face. Her otherwise porcelain skin had a shit ton of freckles across it. And not just the delicate little ones lightly sprinkled over the bridge of a nose or the kind a girl has to point out for you to notice. No, hers were thick and concentrated mostly on the right side of her face, creating a half moon effect around her big brown eyes, which, under the fluorescent light in her camper, I noticed had gold flecks sprinkled in all the brown. It was as if her eyes had freckles of their own.
Sawyer was unusual looking. Certainly not a classic beauty, but maybe it was because she was so unusual that I found her to be stunning. The MOST stunning thing I’d ever laid eyes on. The more I stared at her, the more something inside me stirred.
Maybe it was just my curiosity wondering how far her freckles traveled into that night dress. But I knew that wasn’t it. What was stirring was something else entirely.
Something I hadn’t felt in years.
Something I needed to drown from my body before things got out of hand.
I took another long pull from the bottle “Who doesn’t know Tom Sawyer or Huckleberry Finn?” I asked out loud. I chugged again until my throat burned and my thoughts of wild hair and freckles turned blurry.
I staggered to the window and glanced across the yard just in time to see the light inside her camper click off.
An overwhelming anger ripped through my body. A roar tore from my throat and I tossed the bottle across the room. It shattered on the far wall. Shards of glass and splatters of whiskey slid down to the floor and as I watched it I did the same until the side of my head connected with the hard wood floor.
Before it all went black, an image flashed through my mind.
Grandma-style night dress.
Freckles for days.
Wide-eyed innocence.
The kind that wore long night dresses and demanded to be corrupted.
I did the right thing by threatening her because Sawyer needed to go.
And not just for MY sake.
For hers.
Chapter Nine
Sawyer
My mom used to say that ‘everything looks better in the morning light.’ I was positive, as I looked out onto the murky ground surrounding my camper, that in this particular case, she was wrong.
Oh, so very, very wrong.
In the light of day, I wasn’t just on wet ground or a little mud or even NEXT to the swamp.
I was in the SWAMP.
The entire lot, which I couldn’t tell where it ended or began, was covered in brush and overgrowth. I was surprised at how well Josh had navigated the camper into the only tiny triangle of earth without at least an inch of water that covered most of the ground from the camper to the small dirt path leading up to the house across the way. Although, it was really more of a shack than an actual house. I couldn’t even detect a paint color unless faded, rotted wood siding could be considered a color.
The roof hung low over the drooping front porch like a disapproving eyebrow, dripping with a mixture of shaker style shingles, all different tones from light to dark like they’d been replaced over time, as needed.
Small concrete block pilings under the house looked as if they were keeping the house a few inches above the murk and mud swimming beneath.
It looked like a proper murder shack.
Since the camper didn’t have any water to hook up to, I cleaned off the best I could with a wash cloth and a gallon of water I’d purchased at a gas station so I could conserve the water in the small tank. I got dressed quickly and the second I closed the door of the trailer, I felt his presence before I even saw him. I turned around slowly and sure enough, there he was.
Finn.
Shirtless.
Finn’s muscles rippled as he carried what looked like vehicle parts from the back of the house down to the edge of the water behind it. His tanned skin glistened with sweat, beading up and trickling down the taut muscles of his expansive back.
My jaw literally dropped.
I’d always been taught that the body was a weakness. A human’s vulnerability, but I saw none of that with Finn. Back at home, I’d have been told to look away and pray for that person whose morals were obviously corrupt enough to wear such little clothing.
But I wasn’t at home.
Using that logic alone, I allowed myself to watch Finn for the next few moments as he pushed a metal boat off of a trench-style ramp that had been dug into the shore. Once he was far enough into the swampy waters he pulled a cord and a small motor zinged to life.
Finn paused like he could sense me staring. He slowly turned around. His blue eyes shimmered under the light of the morning and in no way matched the frown set on his face.
I tore my eyes from his and trudged through the wet mud hoping to stumble upon the main area of town.
I’d just leapt over a particularly mean looking puddle when Josh rolled up beside me in her monstrous police truck, towing Rusty behind her. “Where you heading, Sawyer?” she asked leaning out of her window.
“Town. I think.”
