“I’m fine. You know what, Calliope? I really should go. I’m sorry to waste your time.” She turns to leave, but the door slams shut before she can reach it, making her gasp.
“It really will only take a moment, and you can come with me if you like. I have a little something for Hannah, too.”
She looks so fucking uncomfortable right now that it’s taking everything in me not to reach out and hug her.
“Okay,” she whispers.
I offer her a tentative smile before turning and glaring at the Sheriff. “If you insist on staying, perhaps you can start lunch,” I hiss. He raises his hands in apology before walking away without another word.
“Men,” I mutter under my breath as I hear Dawn’s footsteps following me. I lead her out the back and down to my barn. She waits as I unlock it and let her in. She hovers nervously near the door once it closes, watching me as I grab the bag from the table. I open it for her to see.
“Use the cream twice a day. Apply it directly to the affected area, and you should feel relief immediately. In a few hours, you should notice a difference visually too.”
“Thank you.”
“It’s no problem.” I lift out the jar and show her the bottom where my number is. “In case you want to order more, or you need anything else from me. Anything else at all.”
Her eyes turn glassy, but she manages to keep the tears at bay as she thanks me again.
“And this is for Hannah.” I show her the bracelet. “It’s for protection.”
This time, a single tear escapes before she can hold it back. “I have to go. I can’t be gone too long.”
“Okay.”
“How much do I owe you?”
“Nothing. It’s on the house.”
“Oh, I can’t—” She tries to hand it back, but I reach out and push the bag gently to her chest.
“Yes, you can—you will.”
“I don’t know what to say. Thank you, Calliope.”
“You’re welcome, Dawn.”
She reaches for the door, pushes it open, and steps outside, letting the warm sunlight spill in along with a soft breeze that swirls her hair around her face.
“Oh, Dawn?”
She turns to look at me.
“I do have one question. Why do you smell like gasoline?”
She freezes like a deer caught in the headlights. Her mouth opens and closes, her fear swirling between us, and yet I can’t feel any kind of malicious intent. I have to assume the house doesn’t either, as there was no warning signal.
“My…car. I spilled some while filling up my car,” she splutters out what would be a plausible excuse if it didn’t look like she was going to pass out from fright.
“You know I’m not the villain everyone seems to paint me as. If you ever need to talk, I’m a good listener.”
She swallows hard, swiping a tear before nodding and hurrying away.
I sigh, leaning against the worktop. She’s more than capable of finding her way out, and I doubt she’d try anything with the sheriff inside. Funnily enough, I don’t think she had anything to do with the poisoned pasture. But I now know who is responsible.
“Dammit, why does everything have to be so complicated?”
Needing a break from Shepard and Riggs, I stay hiding out in my barn for a little while, repotting some of the shoots into bigger pots so they don’t get root bound and organizing what to plant next, according to the season. I’m wondering if my gift might circumvent that a little.
