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Six months later
I moved arounda lot, never staying in one place too long. I didn’t know why Dax and the Iron Guardians were helping me, but I wouldn’t have stayed off the grid as long as I had without their help.
For me, it was like my life stopped that night. The events burned into my brain. I could think of nothing else. I didn’t regret killing my father. He had it coming. What I did regret, what downright broke me, was the accident we passed; it had been Cedar’s parents. They had died coming to my aid. They were in that car, at that intersection, because I called them. Cedar hadn’t just lost me; she lost her parents on the same night, and it was my fault. I’d never forgive myself for that. As much as I wanted her, wanted the life we’d gotten a glimpse of, I’d taken her parents. She was alone now because of me. If she knew, she’d hate me, and I wouldn’t blame her.
There were times when I thought about turning myself in. I deserved whatever the hell they gave me, not for killing that piece of shit, but because I had killed three other people that night, two literally and one, I took everything from her. I was prepared to face the consequences. What kept me from doing that, though, was I had too many questions. Like what happened to my mother? She called me to the house, but she wasn’t there when I arrived, and she hadn’t shown up since. And my dad, what the fuck was he talking about saying I was a means to an end? And Declan. What the hell was his game? Until I knew what I didn’t, I’d stay on the run because, though I might be in hiding, Cedar wasn’t.
I always knew we’d never have a future, even with how much I wanted that to be true, but I would do like I’d been doing since the day I saw her in her cupcake skirt and pink tee, I’d watch over her and keep her safe…from afar.
Part Two
Sometimes to love is to hold on with both hands
Chapter Twelve
Cedar
Present Day
I drove twothousand miles, my Jeep packed with my possessions. I quit my job, sold my condo, and moved across the country from New York to Wyoming. I didn’t even have a job lined up. It felt good to just do it, to take the leap, to not play it safe. To be daring. I hadn’t been daring in far too long.
It was late; the town was dark as I drove through it. The voice from my navigator, who I changed to a man with an Irish accent, kept me company as I drove through the winding, dark roads, until I reached the drive to my new home. The beams of my headlights illuminated my cabin, the place I was going to set down roots, maybe start a family, the place where my once upon a time was going to start.
Yellow eyes stared back at me in the dark, first just a pair and then they multiplied, and it could have been my imagination, but they seemed to stand taller. Chupacabra was my first thought. I was going to be an Xfile. No one would find my body because no one knew I was here. Fuck that. I slammed on the brakes, threw the Jeep in reverse and peeled away like the hounds of hell, or the chupacabra, were chasing me. I headed back into town and the motel I’d seen. I parked and checked my rearview mirror to make sure there were no yellow eyes coming from the distance. Then I grabbed my purse and overnight bag and walked to the motel office. It was locked and dark. I glanced at my watch. It was only eleven in the evening, but the motel office was closed.
It was early spring, but it was cold. There was no way I was dealing with blood sucking monsters tonight. I just didn’t have the energy. I supposed I could sleep in my Jeep. I glanced up and down the street; the only light still on was for a tavern. Alcohol. Perfect. I dropped my bag back in the Jeep, locked it and walked down the quiet street to the tavern. Pulling the door open, music streamed out, voices followed. I stepped inside, the warmth from the heater felt nice. The bar was all scarred wood, from the floors to the walls to the glossy bar that ran the length of it with dark red leather bar stools. There were pool tables and darts setup in the back, tables in the front and a jukebox in the corner, where a woman was swaying to the music.
I settled on a stool. The bartender appeared, dropped his elbows on the bar and grinned at me, his hazel eyes sparkling with mischief. “Rough day?” He studied me for a second before he said, “Not seen you around before.”
“I just arrived.”
“From back east.”
I assumed he could tell from my accent. “Yes.”
He continued to study me, so I did the same. He was probably around my age, dark blond hair that was long, but not from choice, just lack of a haircut. It brushed his collar, hung in his eyes.
“Bought yourself a cabin, right?”
I imagined most people lived in log cabins around here. “I did, but there were critters on the stoop.” I didn’t share with him my theory as to the origins of those critters.
“Raccoon, most likely. The place sat empty for so long, they’ve probably taken over, but Clinton down at the feed store can help you round them up.”
Raccoons not chupacabras…that would have been my second guess. Wrangling raccoons. Yeah, I was definitely not in Manhattan anymore. I then realized he knew my cabin had sat empty. “How do you know where my cabin is?”
He grinned again. “Small town. I’m Liam,” he said, offering his hand.
“Cedar.”
“What’s your poison, Cedar?”
“Beer, whatever you’ve got on tap.”
“You got it. Are you hungry?”
I was, but assumed the kitchen was closed. “Isn’t it too late?”
“Yeah, but what kind of welcoming committee would I be if I let you leave here hungry. We make a hell of a burger…” he stopped, gave me a look. “You’re not one of those vegetable lovers.”
