Page 81 of Forgotten Dreams
“I’ll be there as soon as I can.” He hangs up, and I look over at Sierra, whose eyes go big.
“Where is he even located?” she asks.
“About forty minutes from here,” I tell her, and she puts her hand on her stomach. “Do you think he’s coming to my house?”
“I have no idea,” I tell her, “but we should go just in case he does.”
“Are you coming with me?”
“You think I’m going to let this man come into your house without me being there?” I shake my head and walk out of the barn with her. “Keys.” I hold out my hand for her keys.
“What about your truck?” she asks as I open the passenger door to her car.
“We’ll come back and get it later,” I tell her as she gets into the car, and I walk around to the driver’s side.
We don’t say a word to each other as I drive back to her house. We walk in, and she goes straight to the couch and collapses on it. “Maybe he’s not coming here.” She looks at me. “Maybe he just wanted to google my house and see where I live.” I don’t say anything because I know this is her nervous energy coming out of her. “Maybe he just wanted to get off the phone with you, and now you’re blocked, and you are going to have to get a new wood person.”
“Sierra,” I say, but instead of saying anything more, I walk into the kitchen and take the bottle of whiskey Autumn gave her when she came to visit last week. I pour her a shot, turning back and heading to the library room and handing it to her. “Here.”
“It’s not even noon,” she retorts, and I raise my eyebrows. “Yeah, good call,” she concedes, taking it and downing the shot and then hissing and trying to cover her cough. “Smooth,” she pants out. “So gross, I never want to do that again.”
“Noted. Should I call him, and ask him where he is?”
“No,” she snaps. “What if he was just wanting to get off the phone?”
“What if,” I say when the sound of a car door shuts, and I look over at her. “Should I go and check?”
“No,” she whispers, her eyes going to me and then to the door, “that would be creepy. What if it’s my neighbor?”
She is about to say something else when the doorbell rings, followed by a frantic knocking. “I don’t think it’s your neighbor.”
Chapter 35
Sierra
I’m about to tell him it’s probably all in our head when the doorbell rings, followed by a frantic knocking. “I don’t think it’s your neighbor.” He looks at me.
“Should I answer it?” I ask, and he shakes his head.
“No fucking way,” Caleb retorts. “We are going to have a couple of words before he walks in here.”
“Do you think that’s really necessary?” I ask.
“It’s nonnegotiable,” he declares as the bell rings again, followed by the knocking. “He’s not coming in here until we talk.”
“Okay,” I concede, knowing I would probably do the same thing if the roles were reversed. I sit back down on the couch as he walks over to the door and it opens. “Carl.” He’s about to take a step out when he moves back because Carl has walked into the house. Or better yet, he’s stormed into the house.
“Where is she?” he asks, and I watch him from the side. His voice sounds like it’s trembling as I take a step to the side to take him in. He’s a touch taller than Caleb, and his shoulders are definitely broader than Caleb’s. His hair is salt-and-pepper, and I have to wonder if he had black hair before or brown. The beard that covers his face is a lighter color than the salt-and-pepper hair he has.
“Before you speak with her,” Caleb warns, “we need to set up ground rules.”
Carl looks over his shoulder, and he must spot me because he gasps, his hand going to his mouth in shock. “Holy shit!” he exclaims. “It’s true!”
“Hi.” I finally walk toward them, making sure I stand behind Caleb. “I’m Sierra.”
“Oh my.” He runs his hands through his hair over and over again, frantically walking back and forth in front of us. “I can’t.” He shakes his head, his breathing coming out in pants. “This is.” He pulls his hair. “I can’t fucking believe this.” The tears brim in his eyes. “I can’t.” He looks like he’s about to have a full-blown panic attack.
“Carl,” Caleb says, walking toward him, “can I get you some water?”
