When Knight hands me a plate, I take it and pick at the ridiculously huge sandwich he made me, tugging off chunks with my fingers and slowly chewing. “You didn’t have to make me a sandwich. I’ve been looking after myself for years. I understand why Warrick is worried, but I promise I have no intention of taking advantage of his kindness.”
“Would you like to join us for dinner tonight? It’s at seven, because…well, schedule, but Knight is a great cook,” Octy says kindly.
“Thank you for the offer, but it’s been a long day, so I think I’m just going to get an early night,” I tell her.
“Maybe we could have lunch or something then? I know the others are all dying to meet you.”
“Others?”
“The other wives, girlfriends, and Henry. Knight hates it, but we all try to hang out while the others are on shift. It can be lonely up on the mountain on your own. Warrick didn’t mention if you have family in town.”
“Oh, no. There’s only my dad, but we’re not close, and I think he’s living in Iowa.”
“There’s a great Mexican restaurant down in town. We can have quesadillas and cocktails and share crazy man stories,” she offers, ignoring the glare Knight is sending her way.
While I appreciate her trying to be kind and including me in this WAGs club that I’m really not qualified to be a part of, I can’t accept her invitation. “That sounds great, but Cora Barnett invited me to have dinner with her and her family, so I can’t really make plans until I’m sure about that,” I say.
“Okay, well let me give you my number, and then once you know when you’re headed to the Barnetts’, we can plan something.”
“Okay,” I agree, knowing full well I won’t be making plans with her.
“Where’s your cell?”
Parting my lips, I start to tell her I don’t have one, but Knight speaks first. “Is it the one in the kitchen?” he asks, getting to his feet and retrieving it.
There isn’t a lock on the cell, so when Knight hands it to me, I hand it straight back to Octy, who quickly adds herself to the contact list.
“We should go; it’s almost time for your afternoon—” Whatever Knight was about to say is muffled by Octy’s hand covering his mouth.
“Verity does not need to hear about that,” she hisses. “Text me once you know about your availability,” she says, letting Knight help her off the couch and out the front door.
The moment they’re gone, I carry what’s left of the sandwich into the kitchen, cover it in foil, and put it back in the refrigerator, closing the door before I race up the stairs and into the bedroom. Closing the door behind me, I sink down to the floor and lean against the wall, pulling my backpack into my lap as I blink away the tears that are pooling in my eyes.
I will not cry over Warrick sending someone to check up on me. I don’t know why I didn’t expect it. In fact, I bet someone will come by every day just to check that I’m still here and that I haven’t absconded with his TV or anything else he has of value in the house.
All he knows about me is that I used to be a stripper, that I’ve been living illegally in a tent for the last two months, and that I don’t have a job or any other income. It would be weirder if he didn’t send someone to make sure I’m not a thief or a junkie.
Crawling off the floor, I climb into bed and pull the comforter over my head. The darkness and sound of my racing heart make the loneliness feel slightly less empty. When I was a kid and my dad would work nights, I’d do this in my bed, trying to convince myself that the comforter would protect me.
I’m not in any danger here, but I’m still alone. For a minute, I’d considered a future with Warrick. I see now that won’t be happening, but that hope had been nice, even if it was fleeting.
Warrick doesn’t call again that night, and I’m grateful not to have to speak to him. I fall asleep late and wake up early, all sense of safety from the previous morning eradicated. After a quick shower, I get dressed, then head into the kitchen, glancing at the cell that’s sitting on top of the note where I placed it when I put my leftover sandwich in the refrigerator yesterday.
There are several new messages, but I don’t check them. Instead, I fill a glass with water from the tap, then take the remaining pancakes Warrick taught me how to make yesterday and warm them up in the microwave. Not wanting to use anymore of his syrup, I unlock the back door and carry the plate and my water outside, taking a seat on the lawn.
Sitting crisscross applesauce in the grass, I pick at the pancakes and drink my water. Once I’ve eaten, I wash the plate and glass, making sure that I leave the kitchen the same way I found it. Pausing at the cell again, I open the text message app and look at the ones from Warrick.
The first is from yesterday morning.
Warrick: Good morning, amore mio. I’m hoping you won’t see this for at least a few more hours while you catch up on some sleep, but I wanted to show you where I’ll be for the next four days. This is my bunk, it’s small, but I’m used to it. Remember that you promised to take it easy, so I want to know how little you’ve done today when I call later. Miss you already. Your Warrick xoxo.
The next is from late last night, long after I’d hidden upstairs.
Warrick: I’m sorry I didn’t have a chance to call before you went to sleep. We were called out to a fire. I hope you had a good day and sweet dreams. I miss you. Your Warrick xoxo.
The last message is from just a few minutes ago, it must have come through while I was outside.
Warrick: Good Morning, amore mio. I hope you slept well. Call me when you read this. I want to hear your voice. Your Warrick xoxo
