The Outskirts (The Outskirts Duet #1)

“I may be old, kid, but the only one who thinks I’m going senile round here is Edie,” he hooked his thumb over his shoulder, gesturing to the kitchen doors which were short and western style. Steam rose over the top along with the sound of pots and pans clattering around in the kitchen. “So give it to me straight. What it is you need exactly and why and I’ll tell you if I think we can help each other out or not.”

I swallowed hard and emptied half the glass of water he’d set in front of me. I took a deep breath. “This is my first time out on my own. I’ve got a place to stay, but I’m short on funds. And you’re right, I’ve got no experience. None. I don’t even have a real high school diploma. I’ve never been in a bar before today. I’ve never had a job either unless you count volunteering at church and even I don’t count that. But I really am a very fast learner, a very hard worker, and my mother used to say that I’m reliable, almost to my own detriment. I’ve been that way for a long time because she said that to me when I was very young and I remember having to look up what ‘detriment’ meant. However, I know that in this case, my reliability will be a really good thing if you give me a chance. You won’t regret it. I swear.”

“You always talk that fast?” Critter asked after a long pause.

“Not always,” I said with a mouthful of food.

“Good,” Critter nodded sharply. “’Cause the folks ‘round here aren’t slow of mind, but they are slow in talk so you might have to dial down the rapid-fire when you take their orders.”

“Of course, I’ll…” I hadn’t realized I was looking down at my hands until Critter’s words caused me to look up into his big smile. “Wait, what?”

“Sloooowww with the orders,” he said, stretching out his words in slow motion.

“Really?” I asked in complete disbelief. “I have a job?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Critter gestured with the glass in his hand to the walls around the bar. “You seem desperate, and if you haven’t already guessed it…desperation is kind of our thing around here.”

“Thank you.” I felt relief wash over me.

“You can start tomorrow night. Where ‘bouts are you staying at?”

And just like that, my mind was brought back to the other problem at hand.

Finn.

“Off Orange Grove.”

“A bit swampy over there,” Critter said, reaching for another glass.

“A bit. You know where it is?”

“Is there a run-down cabin out there on the edge of the water right?”

I nodded.

“I’m surprised that thing is still standing, but yeah, everyone knows it around these parts. Well, everyone knows everyone. The town ain’t big enough to miss new people coming in or old people going out. Although, we don’t got much by either way these days.”

I finished the last bite of my sandwich. “Yeah, well, I’m hoping I can make the mud land I inherited a little more stable for my camper.”

“Inherited?” Critter questioned.

“From my mother,” I explained.

A shrill female voice cried out from the kitchen. “Critter, that dang burner is on the fritz again and I need to make the gravy for the tater-tot surprise!”

Critter backed away from the counter with a quizzical look on his face. “You running from something, Sawyer Dixon?”

I paused for a moment. “I think of it more like I’m running toward something.”

“And what exactly would that be?”

The air conditioner kicked on and the tings above our heads danced in the new breeze courtesy of the vents.

I glanced up to them then back to Critter.

“Freedom.”





Chapter Eleven





Finn





A boom rattled the cabin and my eyes shot open.

“Finn Hollis, you get your hermit ass out here right the fuck now before I blow a hole in your shack the size of the Okeechobee!”

Josh.

Shit.

I tried to move and groaned when my head pounded out a hateful message behind my eyes. I rolled off the couch and stumbled to my feet, knocking over empty beer bottles from the small coffee table.

Squinting under the invading light shining through the front window I cursed myself for not remembering to shut the curtains the night before, but it was all a blur, courtesy of my friend Jim Beam.

A blast from a shotgun echoed through the house. The sound vibrating through my body, intensifying every ache, pain and unwelcome feeling.

“What the fuck, Josh?” I stepped out onto the porch, pulling on an undershirt that was hanging from the railing.

Sure enough, Josh was standing in my front yard, shotgun in hand.

“What the fuck?” She placed a hand on her hip and propped her gun up with the other arm. “I’m the one that should be asking you that considering you tried to run an innocent girl off the road before breaking into her camper and attempting to run her off her land.”

“What girl?” I asked, knowing full well who she was talking about although my brain was still muddied.

“That girl!” Josh said, pointing to the little rusted camper parked across the way.

“The road. That was an accident,” I admitted, scratching my jaw. I needed to trim my face before it became so itchy I scratched off my own skin. “I didn’t have my lights on.”

“Figured as much,” Josh grumbled.

“And she IS on my property,” I added.

“She owns the quarter acre right behind it, she just can’t get to it, yet,” she argued.

“Not my problem.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “Now you should probably go.”

Josh raised her gun, aimed, and fired.

The back windshield of my Bronco shattered in an instant. “You don’t get to tell me what to do, Finn. I’m the law around here. Not you. We aren’t kids anymore. We aren’t even friends anymore. So I’m going to tell you how it’s going to go.”

“Does the law always blow out the windows in people’s trucks to get their attention?” I asked, leaning on the rail.

“I do what needs to be done. And the only reason I’m not blasting a hole through your chest is because I know what day yesterday was. But you WILL leave Sawyer alone. If I hear that you’re trying to mess with her again or run her off, or God forbid hurt her in any way...” Josh glared at me. “I swear to God I’ll bury you out back with the gators and the snakes.”

“Josh…” I faltered.

“No.” She raised her hand. “You don’t get to JOSH me. Not anymore. It’s Deputy Hugo to you.”

My stomach churned. The yelling I could handle.

The hurt in her voice was harder to swallow.

“You can push us all away, Finn, but I can tell that girl’s been through some shit, so she don’t need more shit from the likes of you.” She lowered the gun.

I took a step down from the porch but Josh regarded me with a watery warning in her big brown eyes and stepped back, tossing her gun in the bed of her truck.

“No,” she said. “It’s too late for that. You got some need to want to hole up in your little swamp shack and pretend the world around you don’t exist? Then fine. Do just that. But leave Sawyer alone. Consider this your only warning.” She opened the door of her truck. “Do what you’re good at, Finn. Do to her what you’ve done to everyone else.” She lowered her voice. “Stay the hell away.”

I retreated into my dark dank living room and picked up a half empty bottle of whiskey from the floor next to the worn sofa.

Josh was right. I should stick to what I’m good at. I tipped the bottle to my mouth and tried to pretend I hadn’t just learned why they say the truth hurts.





Chapter Twelve





Sawyer