Page 14 of Slay

I walked slowly down the rest of the stairs, stopping at the bottom to meet her eyes. “You’ve been so kind to me. I will forever be grateful, but—”

“Not listening to it,” she interrupted, holding up her hand. “I said to save your breath. You’re gonna sit and have breakfast, and I’m gonna tell you what’s going to happen.” She started toward the kitchen. “Are you a coffee or tea drinker in the mornings?”

Unable to think of anything I could possibly say to this woman, I replied, “Coffee, please.”

She glanced back over her shoulder and gave me an approving nod, as if I had chosen correctly. I hadn’t been aware that was a test, but it felt as if it had been in a way.

The delicious smell of things I hadn’t eaten in a long time for breakfast met my nose before we even made it into the large, bright kitchen.

“Bacon, Conecuh sausage, biscuits, tomato gravy, cheese grits, and scrambled eggs,” she said as she walked over to the large island bar in the middle of the room. “It’s not as formal as dinner was last night. Just get yourself a plate and fill it up.”

Then, she picked up a plate and held it out to me. I reached for it and took in all the food that was sitting out.

“Eat all you want. King and Storm came in and ate earlier before they headed over to the ranch. Don’t reckon the others are coming, or they’d have already stopped by,” she said, picking up a slice of bacon and taking a bite of it.

I hadn’t thought I was hungry until now, but everything looked so good and completely off the list of items I was allowed to eat. Taking a slice of bacon and a biscuit, I stopped at what I assumed was the tomato gravy. I’d never heard of it, but it smelled nice.

“Tomato gravy. My granny’s recipe. It’ll have you getting a second biscuit just to soak it all up.”

Okay then, why not? I took the ladle and poured some over my biscuit, then took a small spoonful of the grits and some eggs. My breakfast was normally two egg whites, a half cup of blueberries, and one slice of low-carb whole wheat bread, no butter.

“Sugar and cream in your coffee?” Maeme asked.

“Uh, do you have any Splenda or Stevia?”

She grinned. “Can’t say I do. But I have some fresh honey.”

“Sugar will be fine,” I replied, then added, “And the cream too.” I always used almond milk, but I already knew that wasn’t going to be in her fridge.

“Have a seat at the bar,” Maeme said as she put a cup of coffee down in front of an empty stool, then went to refresh her cup.

I took the seat and waited, unsure if we were supposed to pray or not. Last night, it had seemed important, and I didn’t want to insult her after she was so kind to me. She didn’t add anything to her coffee, and it didn’t surprise me that she drank it black. Maeme might look soft and sweet, but the woman was tough. She had controlled a room full of tall, muscular, intimidating men last night with one glance. I had expected boys, but they had all been men and older than me at that.

“Go ahead and eat up. I’ll do most of the talking,” she said, walking over to stand on the other side of the island from me.

No praying over breakfast. Got it.

I picked up my fork and decided I would try the biscuit with tomato gravy first. If it was terrible, I’d get it down, then wash away the taste with the items I knew I would enjoy. Besides, I needed to eat good now because I wasn’t sure when I would get another chance to eat a real meal again.

“You’ve been abused,” she began. “Your bare ring finger has a tan line. So, the bastard is your husband. I’ve seen this before, and I know it when I see it. No use in lying to me. You’re on the run. You have no family to run to, or you would have called them already. You took off and were so desperate that you went to a service station, looking for a kind soul who could give you a ride.”

My appetite was gone instantly. I placed my fork beside the plate and put my hands in my lap as I stared at Maeme.

She used her hand and motioned toward me. “Eat. You need it. You look like a strong wind would blow you away. That’s part of the abuse. The control he craved. I bet his dick was small too. Anyway, I’m not going to let you leave. You need family, and you need protection. I can give you that. I can even give you a step more. There is a small cottage on the back right side of my property that backs up to the Shephards’ ranch. You met their oldest son, Thatcher, last night. Our families go back to the early 1900s. Security is tight, and no one gets back there who isn’t supposed to be.” She paused and took a sip of her coffee, then reached to take a biscuit from the skillet.

I was speechless. All I could do was sit there and stare at her. Unable to believe what she was saying. The temptation to let her tell me what I was going to do and forget the reality of my actions yesterday was there, but I couldn’t. I knew that. I couldn’t help wanting to though.

“The house is furnished. It’s not much, but it is clean, safe, and so far away from the road that it is basically hidden. No one has lived there in a few years, but I keep it cleaned regularly for when it might be needed. I’m going to have King come by later and move your things out there. You make a list of groceries you would like, and he will bring those too. You need to hide, and I’m going to hide you.”

This was when I should tell her that I was hiding, but not from my husband. I was hiding from the police. She didn’t want to harbor a fugitive—or whatever I’d made myself look like. As wonderful as this house in the woods away from the world sounded, it wouldn’t be right for me to take it.

“Yes, my husband hurt me. But it’s not necessarily him I am running from. It’s complicated.”

“I don’t want to know. Your secrets are your own. I am telling you that you are a woman without a family who needs a safe place to hide. That’s all I need to know. Now, eat and relax. No one is going to find you. But if I let you leave here and go to a bus station or some other crazy idea you have come up with, they’d find you. Whoever is looking. You stand out, honey. You would be back in the shit you’re running from before the day was done.”

I dropped my gaze to my uneaten breakfast. She was right. I would need my identification to get on a bus. My cash would run out soon. I was hurt and would be an easy target to anyone. If she was so sure she could hide me, how long would that last? I couldn’t stay hidden forever, but while I was healing, I could use the time to think of a more permanent solution. Would that be so bad? No one knew I had gotten in King’s truck. Or who I was. How would I be traced here? I doubted there was any connection to lead the police to this place. At least not right away. They’d need a lead, and that would take time.

“Okay,” I replied, looking back up at her. The words tumbling out before I could stop them.

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