The Outskirts (The Outskirts Duet #1)

The one from the billboard in town. Same white siding, blue shutters, and grey shingles. The biggest difference was that the one in front of me was split in half right down the center. The right half sat lopsided on the ground and contained the red front door. The left half remained upright, leaning against a rusted tanker truck. A flimsy sheet of plastic was stapled over the contents, but it was torn just enough so I could see inside.

“The door was unlocked,” a deep and very familiar voice said. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end as the words licked across my skin like a cool breeze.

“What door?”

Finn stepped up so close behind me I could feel the heat radiating from his chest to my back and I resisted the temptation to lean back into him.

“My front door,” he said. “I left it open for you last night.” His breath tickled my neck. “You weren’t there when I got home.”

“Should I have been?”

“Yes.”

I felt heated in a way that even the ninety-degree weather couldn’t make me feel. “I’ve been staying at Josh’s.”

“So I heard.” Finn stepped beside me and I got a good glimpse of his tight white t-shirt over his muscles. The stubble on his jaw made me remember how it felt against my skin when he kissed me. My neck. He glanced over and caught me staring. “You like what you see?”

“Yes,” my answer was immediate.

Finn chuckled and placed his hand on my head, turning me back to face the house, the entire reason why I was even in the junkyard, to begin with. I mentally prepared myself for some sort of snarky comment or for him to say something to make me feel more embarrassed than I already was, but luckily, it never came. “It’s not very big,” he said instead, taking in the house.

“Neither am I.” I sighed with relief. “It’s perfect.”

Finn walked up to it and tugged on the plastic covering of the upright side until it gave and fell to the ground.

“Wait, can you do that?” I asked in a screamed whisper, looking around for anyone who could be watching.

“It’s a junkyard. They don’t care if you break it. It’s already broken,” Finn pointed out.

I was too short to step up into the house like Finn had done. “Here,” he held out his hand. I reached for it and he pulled me up and against him, holding me for a beat too long before finally releasing me. He smelled like cigarettes and soap.

On the inside, I was ecstatic to find that it was ten times the size of my camper, although still pretty small. “How big do you think it is?” I asked.

“Both halves together?” he asked. “Probably around eight hundred square feet. Give or take.”

There was no flooring, just wood boards. “The sellers of these things usually waited to get a buyer before they put down the floors. That way whoever was buying it could choose their own,” Finn explained like he was reading my mind.

The walls were real drywall. It had windows with white trim and marble windowsills. In the kitchen was a table style island and a big white farm sink with matching white cabinets and grey and white marbled counters. “Wow,” I said, admiring my surroundings. There was a bedroom in the back big enough for a king size bed and an attached bathroom.

“You really like this thing?” Finn asked.

“No, I don’t like it.” I looked around. “I love it.” I held out my arms and spun in a circle. I was drunk on the possibility that I could somehow make the house mine. “It’s like a mini version of the house I saw when I first came in. That one was three stories with a picket fence. It looked like the kind of house where people could laugh.” I turned to Finn. “Where kids are tucked into their beds at night and read bedtime stories. Where family meals are full of laughter and jokes and plans for the weekend instead of a run down of what you did wrong that day and how God wasn’t happy with girls who didn’t obey his every command. Who showed too much skin. Who wanted to go to a real school instead of being home-schooled.” I stopped when I realized I’d gone off on a tangent. Finn was watching me curiously.

“And you didn’t have that growing up,” Finn said. It wasn’t a question.

I shook my head and ran my hand over the counter. “No. Did you?”

I expected him to avoid the question or change the subject but he surprised me when he said. “I had that. My mom and dad were there for every baseball and football game. My mom was the loudest in the stands and I used to be so embarrassed,” he chuckled while recalling the memory, running his hand over the stubble on his chin. “And now I think how lucky I was to have the loudest mom in the stands.”

“Where are your parents now?”

“Georgia mountains. Mom and Dad always talked about having white Christmases so the second I graduated high school they followed their dream.”

“And you stayed? Why?” I asked.

“Because I belong here,” Finn answered simply. “This is home.”

“Josh said you moved out to the swamp a few years back. Where did you live before?” I didn’t look at him when I asked but I could see his entire body stiffen out of the corner of my eye. This time he did evade the question. Well, not so much evade as didn’t even attempt to answer.

“Come on. Let’s go see the other side.” Finn came over to me and lifted me up by the waist, setting me down a few feet on the ground below. He followed me down in one easy hop that he made look effortless with his long legs and confident movements. He grabbed my hand and led me over to the other half of the house. He tore down the plastic like he’d done on the other side. When he released my hand, he kept his pressed lightly on the small of my back.

When we entered, I was surprised to find another bedroom, a small alcove with a built-in desk, and another bathroom, this one accessible from the main living space, which would be substantial in size if the two pieces were put together.

“Why is it in half?” I asked, running my hand over the dusty walls as I walked from room to room.

“It’s a park model,” Finn explained, following me but staying a few steps behind.

“Park model?” I scrunched my nose. I’d never heard the term before. “So, it’s not a real house?”

“It’s a real house all right. It’s just constructed off site, probably in a warehouse somewhere, instead of being built directly on the land. Same destination, just two different kinds of journeys to get there,” Finn said as he watched me admire the built-in laundry room off the back bedroom. “It’s delivered to the site in two parts because it’s too big to fit on a flatbed in one piece without blocking the highway.”

“So it CAN be put back together then?” Excitement was growing inside of me. My wheels were turning.

“It can.” Finn’s lips turned upward in a crooked smile that made my mouth water.

There were no appliances and everything inside and out was beyond dusty. I had no idea how long the house had been sitting there, but it was long enough for some of the laminate on the cabinets to start peeling in the corners.

But it was salvageable.

I glanced back to Finn and clasped my hands together. I hadn’t even realized I was smiling until he came up to me and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “That’s the first time I’ve seen you smile,” he said; his words and touch were surprisingly soft and tender.