Page 1 of Caught With the Sheriff

CHAPTER 1

Willow

Sighing, I rub my eyes and stare at my computer screen, exhausted. Pushing back in my rolling chair, I growl and stand up. My hands grab my back and I groan.

I stumble away from the office and out into the hall, stunned when I see that it’s dark out. And I haven’t eaten all day.

Not that much of a shock since I was writing and I often lose track of time when I’m writing. When I can really manage to keep my mind on my work. That doesn’t happen very often anymore.

Stretching, I feel the twinge in my shoulder and side and wince. The scars ache a lot more when the weather is shitty like it’s been lately.

My eyes close and a shiver runs down my spine. I don’t want to think about scars or anything else. I just want to write and be left alone.

There’s a knock at my door and my head whips around, my heart jerking into a cadence that should only occur when you’re running flat-out on a treadmill.

Another knock and my feet move backwards, trying to get as far from that piece of wood as I can.

I hit the doorway to the kitchen and drop to the ground behind the island, tucking myself as small as I can. My tongue feels stuck to the roof of my mouth, dry as the Sahara. My whole body shivers in my warm sweater. It’s been a little chilly today and I’m easily cold. Besides I only wear long sleeves and no shorts. To hide the damn scars.

Heart pounding, chest aching, I sit there and stare at that damn door so hard that I jump when my phone rings in my hand. I don’t even remember picking it up but I always try to have it on me. Just in case.

Sadly, I know exactly what just in case means.

My eyes dart down to the lit-up display and I draw in a shaky breath when I see that it’s Livvy.

My eyes don’t leave the door around the corner even as I answer. “Livvy? What are you doing calling me so late?”

“Because you never pick up your damn phone and I need to talk to you. Open the door.”

My head pops up and I stare harder at the door and then the phone. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, I’m standing outside your door to talk to you because you won’t pick up your phone otherwise. I can’t believe you picked up this time. But it doesn’t matter. I need to talk to you. Open the door.” Her last sentence is clipped, abrupt.

She’s losing patience with me. She has been for awhile now. When it first happened she let me slip away. Let me hide.

But lately she’s been insistent that I need to get back out there. Need to talk to my fans.

Need to rejoin the land of the living. The last thing I want to do.

I hold the phone to my chest, not even bothering to hang up. I tiptoe down the hall and glance out the tiny sliver of glass at the top of the door that I traded out for the old glass one.

I want a helluva lot between me and anybody else who might be out there.

Livvy glares at me and mimes opening the door. Sighing, I hang up and open the door slowly.

She rushes inside and I slam the door behind her. “Finally! I thought I’d never talk to you again.”

“I’ve talked to you,” I sigh and head back to the kitchen.

“Texts. Only texts. I need to actually have a discussion beyond one word responses.”

“I’m not doing any book signings or appearances. Nothing.” I grab a leftover hamburger from the lunch I had delivered the other day and pop it in my microwave.

Listening to the whir of the motor and watching the lights, I try to ignore Livvy standing there staring at me. I know what I’m going to see.

Pain. Guilt. Anger. Remorse. Sympathy. A whole mixed soup of emotions that I know she has. Hell, I’ve had a lot of those same feelings myself.

But I don’t feel those things anymore. All I have now is fear. And that fear keeps me safe. I don’t care about a damn thing other than that.