He gives me a knowing grin. “I bet you will.”
Slipping out, he steps back to watch us reverse out of his garage before sliding the door closed. I’m guessing we’ll never see him again.
I don’t know what my life’s going to look like now.
All I can think about is getting Chris as far away from all this as possible. Thankfully Riley and Kade are onboard.
“Get some shut-eye, Ry,” Kade mutters. “You’re driving next.”
As Riley leans his head back, I gaze out the window, my eyes tracking every movement I can. The stolen truck will have been reported by now. Dean Hancock will know we’re missing. The dock will be swarming with police. They’ll find the dead guy who shot Chris, and who knows what else.
It won’t take long for them to be sweeping the area, knocking on doors, asking questions.
A police siren wails behind me and I flinch, looking out the back window. It passes through an intersection and keeps heading straight, not noticing the jalopy we’re driving out of town.
My shoulders stay tense and alert until we cross the state line. It’s not until after midday, when Riley takes the wheel, that I eventually manage to fall into a light sleep.
I gently rest my hand on top of Chris’s chest. It rises and falls beneath me, calming my nerves and reminding me that she’s keeping her promise.
For now, I don’t have to live without her and if I can have my way, I can keep saying that for a really long time.
#41:
Looking Forward
Christiana
I wake on a gasp, my eyes popping open to reveal a pale glow highlighting the rustic furniture around me. It’s morning. The blue threadbare curtains do nothing to mask this.
I’m alive. I’m safe.
I swivel my head on the pillow to see the room is empty. Distant noises of tinkering remind me I’m not alone. My guardian angels are close by.
A smile twitches the corner of my mouth and I sit up slowly, rubbing my arms against the morning chill. Brushing my fingers over my wound, I wince at the fact it’s still tender. The bruising has come in, purple and intense, but the stitches will dissolve soon and it’ll be a distant memory to my body.
But never to my mind.
It’s been over a week and I’m still plagued by nightmares. I wonder how long they’ll last.
Easing out of bed, I grab Trey’s big sweatshirt off the end of the wooden frame and pull it over my winter pajamas. The cabin is freezing; I’ve been wearing double layers to bed, plus thick woolen socks.
In spite of the doctor’s orders, the guys stopped in South Dakota and spent a few hundred bucks stocking up on clothing and supplies. They guessed my size and did pretty good, but I still prefer wearing Trey’s sweatshirts, and I think he kind of likes me doing it too.
Zipping up the hoodie, I bunch it around my neck and pad out the door, walking across the wooden floor in search of my anchor.
I find him on the front porch. He’s holding a steaming mug of hot chocolate and looking down at Kade and Riley. They found an old motorcycle in the shed and Kade’s now tinkering with it. Tools are scattered around him, his fingertips imbedded with grease.
Apparently when we arrived, the cabin was empty and looked like it had been that way for a very long time. Riley has no idea what happened to his uncle. I can sense it’s unsettling him. Maybe being here reminds him of his mom too much. Trey told me Ry used to spend summers up here with his mother. His uncle taught him how to fish in the lake and track animals in the forest.
Riley hasn’t talked about it but I’ve caught him staring into the distance, a muscle working in his jaw, a troubled frown crinkling his forehead.
He snaps out of it pretty easily, but Riley’s good at putting up a front. Plus he’s been kept pretty busy with this place. I have no idea how long we’re going to be here but even if we only stay a month, there’s a lot of work to do to make it habitable.
The barn out back is fully loaded with all kinds of equipment. The guys haven’t been through it all yet but according to Trey, Riley’s uncle took self-sufficiency to a whole new level. I took a tentative walk around the cabin yesterday and found an overgrown orchard and what looked to be a chicken coop. There’s probably a vegetable patch somewhere beneath the snow too. Not that I know anything about growing vegetables.
Not that we’ll be staying here to do that.
The thought makes my stomach surge.
Riley’s sawing up wood, preparing panels to continue fixing up the back of the house.
We arrived when it was dark and Trey carried me inside, using the new blanket he bought to create a clean bed for me. We were all so exhausted we collapsed in different parts of the house and didn’t wake until after lunch the next day.
I don’t know where Riley and Kade slept, but Trey lay down beside me and was still there when I stirred. He’s remained by my side every night since, like a night watchman keeping vigil.