Page 156 of Show Me

“How did you know I was awake?”

“You walk like you’re trying not to wake someone,” he says, sliding a mug toward me. “Which means you’re awake.”

I take the coffee. “Thanks.”

He leans against the counter, studying me. “You sleep okay?”

“Yeah.” I set the mug back onto the counter. “Better than I have in weeks. Minus the pain in my neck from the couch.”

“Sorry about that. I should’ve insisted we go to bed earlier.” He lifts his shoulder as pink stains his cheeks. “Before I took advantage of your disoriented state.”

Xavier, blushing? Hold the phone. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Xavier blushing, and I like it.

“Thankfully, I enjoyed you taking advantage of my disoriented state quite a lot, so there’s no need to apologize.” I arch an eyebrow. “By the way, are you blushing?”

“No, I’m not blushing. It’s hot in here.” He winks with the cocky grin of his popping a dimple. “And you’re welcome for the thorough advantage taking.”

I laugh as I walk to the back door. “Please don’t break your arm patting yourself on the back.” I look at him over my shoulder. “I need you ready to take advantage of my disoriented state again.”

“Any time.” This time, the heat flares in his eyes instead of his cheeks.

After shoving on my boots, I twist the lock. “I’m going to feed the pigs before work.”

“I’ll come with you.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I know.” Which means he’s coming anyway.

The air is cold enough that my breath fogs when we step outside. The yard is silent except for the low rustling from the pig pen. Samson grunts when he sees me, already pacing near the gate.

“Good morning to you too.” I grab the feed bucket from the porch and start down the path.

Halfway there, Squirt darts ahead. Then stops. His body goes rigid. I slow. “What is it?”

Xavier is beside me a second later. Squirt doesn't move as if he senses something is off. That’s when I notice something hanging from the gate. At first, it doesn't register. A piece of paper. Clipped to something metal.

The breeze catches the corner. Flips it once. My stomach drops. No. The feed bucket slips from my fingers. Corn scatters across the frozen ground.

“Ruby?” I don't answer. It’s a photograph.

Xavier reaches it first. His hand closes around it. Then stills. The color drains from my face before he even turns it around. It's me. Standing in my kitchen. Taken through the window above the sink.

I'm holding a coffee mug. Hair piled on top of my head. Wearing an old T-shirt. Nothing special. Nothing important. Except somebody was standing outside my house when it happened. Watching.

My stomach flips. Hard. “Oh, my God.”

The words barely come out. Xavier turns the photograph over. Two words are written across the back in black marker. Nice try.

The cameras. The locks. The motion lights. Everything we'd done. Dismissed in two words.

I wrap my arms around myself. Suddenly cold. Sick. Then Xavier goes still. “What?”

His eyes don't leave the object clipped to the photo. A tape measure. Old. Scuffed. Construction dust packed into the seams. Slowly, he turns it over. His jaw tightens.

“What is it?” His thumb brushes two carved initials. XC. My stomach drops all over again. “Is that yours?"

“Yeah.” The answer comes rough. Distracted and focused somewhere else entirely.