Page 12 of Where She Belongs

“Don’t you even worry about it. I knew you’d call if there was a problem.”

Once again, Rylee was disappointed in what was really going on and the truth that she couldn’t bring herself to ask for help. It wasn’t what her father would have done and she was determined to be the daughter that could make him proud. “Welp, everything is just… wonderful.”

There was a pause on the other end of the line. Rylee had little doubt that her aunt could hear the strain in it no matter how much she wanted to hide it.

“Rylee, dear, is there something you’re not telling me?”

“No, no. It’s fine,” Rylee insisted, glancing around at the run-down kitchen. “Really. I’m doing okay. It’s just… a lot.”

“Sweetheart, the point of going back there was so you could clear your head, if that’s not what’s happening⁠—”

“The point of coming back is to feel closer to my dad,” Rylee snapped. Then she winced and pressed her fingers to her forehead. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to sound so…”

“It’s fine. I know you’re wanting to do this on your own, but⁠—”

“Aunt Roxy, please believe me when I tell you that’s exactly what I want. I don’t need help and if I get to a point when I do, I’ll call, okay?” She could already imagine her aunt pursing her lips, preparing for an argument, but thankfully, she kept quiet. Rylee sighed. “Everything is going as well as could be expected.” She forced a smile, hoping it carried over the line. “But you know what? My phone is about to die and I should probably plug it in.”

Her aunt was quiet once more. Then she sighed. “You be sure to call the second you need anything, dear. I don’t like thinking about you out there all on your own.”

“I’m not on my own,” Rylee insisted, a small smile tugging on her lips as she thought about Lydia. “I’m already making friends.”

“Oh, that’s lovely. You’ll have to tell me all about them when we get a chance to talk again.”

“I will.” Rylee hesitated, her focus shifting to the pipes under the sink. Maybe it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world to ask for a little help. But before she had a chance to admit it to her aunt, the quiet on the other end of the line turned into a different kind of silence.

Rylee pulled her phone from her ear to look at the screen. After tapping it and pressing the button, she tossed back her head with a groan and got to her feet in search of the charging cord. Of course, it would die just as she was willing to give in and ask for help. The universe sure had a sense of humor.

She made it to her bedroom and the cord that was already plugged into the wall. Thunder boomed, startling her and causing her to drop her phone. “Sheesh,” she muttered, glancing out the window just as lightning filled the air. “That’s really close.”

Rylee reached for her phone once again and plugged it in. The whole house went dark. It was unsettling, the change in the air when the power went out during a storm. Rain pelted against the windowpanes and the wind picked up. Losing power only made the storm outside sound worse.

Shivers racked Rylee’s body as she went to the window to peer out. There were still lights on at houses in the distance, one being the previous home of her childhood friends—now Lydia’s. If their power wasn’t out, that meant it was isolated to her home.

Well, great. She abandoned her phone and felt her way down to the kitchen. There had to be a flashlight somewhere. Maybe she could find the fuse box? That was a thing, right? She’d found a flashlight when a loud crash sounded from the basement.

Rylee froze. Her ears strained all the while she kept telling herself that whatever it was had to be a fluke. Some boxes fell over. The rumble from the storm had knocked them down.

Then she heard it again and a scream tore out of her throat. She didn’t have a single plan in her head beyond getting out of that house and getting shelter elsewhere.

Rain droplets cut into her face as she ran down the familiar path toward the nearest neighbors. It was lit only by the flashes of lightning overhead. Her heart pumped harder in her chest. Her hands trembled and her legs threatened to give out on her. She slipped in a puddle of mud but managed to catch herself on her hands and knees.

Groaning, Rylee scrambled to her feet. She stared down at herself with dismay when another flash of lightning illuminated her state of disarray and the treehouse to her right. She glanced over at it, surprised it was still standing. So many lazy afternoons she’d spent in that fort with the two boys from her childhood. A twinge of longing for a life she might have had if her father hadn’t passed away sliced through her chest. How would things have been different if she’d stayed in Rocky Ridge?

With more careful steps, she continued toward the neighbor’s house.

By the time she made it to Lydia’s home, she was covered in rainwater and mud. She probably resembled a swamp witch. If she wasn’t so miserable, she might have laughed at the visual.

Rylee wiped her muddy hand on her jeans before rapping her knuckles on the door. There were still lights on inside. She didn’t think she was at risk for waking anyone up, but the longer she stood there, shivering, she couldn’t be so sure.

Taking a few steps to the left, she attempted to look through the sheer drapes of the sitting room. There wasn’t any movement inside. And if she knocked again, she might wake someone.

Would that be so bad? Lydia would forgive her, right? Especially seeing as there was something or someone in her basement? The least her neighbors could do was let her use a phone to call the sheriff.

She moved back to the door and raised her hand to knock again when the door swung inward. She squeaked and her hands came to her mouth. She immediately regretted having that reaction to a door opening. There was probably dirt all over her face now. Her cheeks blazed with heat and her eyes widened. “I’m so sorry to bother you.”

The man standing before her was… well, he had to be the most handsome man she’d ever laid eyes on. His wavy brown hair curled around his ears and there was a bit of scruff on his face. It was the look models back in New York spent hours to accomplish, but she had a feeling he didn’t spend that kind of time in front of a mirror. That five o’clock shadow on his strong jaw made her fingers itch to trace the lines of his face. It was only when the corners of his warm, brown eyes crinkled that she caught herself staring.

He rested his forearm against the doorjamb as he grinned at her, his own gaze sweeping over her frame. “You must be the neighbor.”