I use the Irish Spring soap to lather, and I make quick work, scrubbing myself down and ridding my body of the grime and sand. I turn off the water before it ever fully warms up, then step out, using a towel from the linen closet to quickly dry off.
I keep my mind empty as I slide into the musty smelling jeans and pull on a black T-shirt and then my hoodie. Everything fits—not perfectly—but it’s better than what I had.
Especially the boots.
Once dressed, I sweep up everything and drop the towel into a halfway-full hamper. Will she notice? Maybe. My eyes flicker back to the shower, which still has remnants of being used, water droplets covering the white plastic walls.
I stare at it for a few passing beats.
It is what it is.
I exit the bathroom, making a pointnotto peer into the spare bedroom on the left. I don’t want to see what happened to my childhood room. Nothing good happened there, and I doubt that a change of the wall colors can erase the shitty memories.
My feet carry me into the kitchen, and I swipe up the expired goods, furthering my arm load of shit. Before exiting, I double check that I left nothing obvious behind, and then slide out the back door.
Right as I hear a car door shut.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
I pick up my pace, racing toward the barn. The armful of shit I’m carrying slows me down, but I still manage to slip through the partially opened door. I rest my back against the cold wood, and take in the musty place, clearly not having been in use for some time.
It’s dark, dingy, and there are scurries in the shadows that I’d rather not investigate. My eyes flicker up to the loft, and the decrepit ladder that leads to it. The moonlight through a broken slat barely illuminates the place Rue and I used to spend hours of our free time after school.
It makes my stomach fucking sick to think of it.
But it’s the best shelter I’ve gotten. I don’t think Old Lady Wilson will be climbing this loft ladder any time soon. My eyes flicker to the door, knowing good and well I still have to get my backpack and sleeping bag.
Can’t risk that right now.I toss what I have up into the loft, thankful they land softly. I continue through the motions, ignoring the sound of Rue’s childhood laughter hitting my ears. It feels haunting, how well my mind can bring it to life.
Stupid fucking Matthew ruined our lives.
And that’s one thing we’ll always have in common. I let the rumination continue as I clamber up and get comfortable in the musty hay. I roll up the dirty clothes and tear into the food, stale chips strangely hitting the spot.
But at this point, I think just about anything would.
Ineverthought this is how my life would play out. I prospected for the Iron Traitors because my dad had ridden with them—and after he abandoned us and I’d lost his last name in the adoption process with my stepdad, I was desperate to hang ontosomethingof his.
And damn, was it the wrong decision.
I’d been initiated when Matthew showed up, prospecting as some little fucking frat boy with a rebellious streak. I don’t know what they were thinking, letting the nineteen-year-old prick join the club.
But despite coming from money, the shithead was broke.
And thesmall loanhe took from the Club went sideways real fucking quick. My mind slips off into the past—the night we showed up at Matthew’s cabin, one that his family owned at the back of their lake property for hunting.
The echoes of Harleys roar in my ears as I squeeze my eyes shut. We all had dismounted with bats and tire irons, going straight for the untitled, stolen truck Matthew thought he’d gift us. But it’s not the threats and yelling I remember…
It’sher.Rue.
She stepped out of the front door, nothing but a baggy flannel covering her body. Her hair blew in the midnight breeze, the porch light glowing against her porcelain skin.
And my heart stopped.
It was the first time I’d seen her since I’d moved, since I’d become my mother’s biggest disappointment,ThomasNoahPeterson.
But she’d only ever known me as Noah Anders.
We’d made eye contact, but there was no recognition there. Only fear. She didn’t know me, and she had a big fucking rock on her left hand.
