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“Look, I’ve had a long day. We can stay here all night, but it won’t change your situation. Or you can put your big girl pants on, get the fuck up, and we can get out of the cold. I’m tired and would rather you walk, but that doesn’t mean I won’t throw you over my shoulder and carry you.”
She looks up through the messy strands of hair covering her face. “You’re crazy.”
“And you’re low on options. So, what’s it gonna be?”
Taking a deep breath, Sumner places her hands flat on the ground. “Fine. But touch me and you’re dead.”
This causes my lips to curve. Not only is this girl orderless, she’s half my size. I could break her without lifting a wrist. No one threatens me. I like this fire inside her though. I look forward to putting it out.
Getting to my house takes an annoyingly long time. She jumps at every little sound, questioning every noise, every shadow, every damn hint of movement.
As I step onto the porch, memories flood my mind. Laughter, a warm fireplace, the smell of my dad’s aftershave. This house was once a source of joy. Now, it serves as nothing more than a painful reminder and a place to sleep. I may have inherited the home, but the joy came separately. Stripped by the very thing I needed to get it back.
Sumner starts up the steps, assuming she’s invited in.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
“Look, I wouldn’t normally trust you. I mean, I don’t trust you. But I don’t feel like I have any other choice right now.”
“You really don’t,” I answer. “That doesn’t give you free rein of my house. So you can walk back down those steps. Strays aren’t welcome to sleep in my house.”
Her eyes roll to the side, just as annoyed with me as I am with her. “Okay? So where am I supposed to sleep?”
The gutter. “There’s a small guest house in the back. It’s yours. For now.”
She peeks around the corner, then back to me. Maybe it’s a conversation she wants, maybe an explanation as to how her life just took a one eighty. Whatever it is, I’m not wasting my time with it. I was expecting Sumner, just not tonight. Not like this.
No more talking. No more seeing her.
I need a drink.
CHAPTER THREE
SUMNER
Istare through the closed window. The same window I made sure was locked at least a dozen times last night. It looks out to the open yard behind the house of the man who, for some unknown reason, got me off the streets. And who I had no other choice but to trust.
I was taken. That happened. I’m in an unfamiliar place. A place I’m not sure is actually real. The things I saw yesterday shouldn’t be. The noises I’d heard, I still feel sick when I think about them.
Sleep didn’t find me. It rarely does. Last night’s reasons were different, my thoughts drifting to the low rumbling of the man who hunted me in the woods. Who captured me.
Part of me is thankful for the low growl, which still echoes in the back of my ears, thankful that for once, it wasn’t him who kept me from drifting.
Day or night, his ghostly presence suffocates me, refusing to let me go. This stranger’s room or my own, I’ve always been trapped.
Standing from the bed, I explore the small area I’d ignored until now.
My fingers trace along the off-white wall, visually taking everything in. I’m not sure what I expected. Cobwebs. Candlesticks. A coffin. After everything that happened these last few hours, part of me imagined this place would feel more like a dungeon. But as I move deeper into the open space, I find only things I’m familiar with. A couch. A bookshelf. A kitchen. All the things I had back home.
Entering the bathroom, I catch sight of myself in the oval mirror above the sink. Dark rims circle my eyes—visual proof of my exhaustion.
Sleep has never taken kindly to me.
Sighing, I twist the faucet handle, hoping the cool water will help wash away some of the tired.
The sink groans but nothing comes out. Trying the shower, I turn the tap as far as it will go in either direction.
No water.
