I grab a fry without a word and shove it into my mouth. Despite the drive and it sitting in the box to sweat, it still tastes fresh. From the corner of my eye, I watch as Calder sets out two more meals—a serving of meatloaf, which usually isn’t my go to meal, but actually looks fantastic—and a classic serve of pancakes.
Calder doesn’t say anything as he sets one container on his lap, the other between us. Silently, we eat. There’s so much to say, and yet I hold it all in.
Maybe, there really isn’t much to say at all.
Calder takesme home once dinner is done. I feel my resolve start to crack when he pulls into the cabin. From the corner of my eye, I watch him as he cuts the engine and sits back. For a long moment, he doesn’t say anything. I should just say goodnight and escape. Pray he doesn’t come to me in the morning.
When I finally move to unbuckle my seatbelt, he does the same. “What are you doing?” I ask, shooting him a look.
“Coming in,” he replies, totally serious. “Show me what needs work.”
Shock rushes through me. “No,” I say, grabbing my bag and some of the leftovers. “No need. Also, please don’t bother picking me up, I’ll find my own way to work.”
And yet, despite the fact that I get out of the truck, despite my words hanging clearly in the air between us, he still gets out and follows me with the rest of the takeout.
“I’m serious,” I hiss. “Go home, Calder. Whatever is happening—it needs to stop.”
But this lumbering asshole of a man follows me to the front door. He leans against the doorframe, adopting that charming, annoying smirk he seems to always wear.
Maybe I’m some kind of joke to him. To everyone. Maybe he and Iris are in on it together: make the new girl in town fall for the handsome cowboy, then laugh at me when he drops me.
My entire body burns from embarrassment. “What do you want from me?” I ask. “You’ve done enough damage tonight. I just want to sleep.”
Something shifts in his eyes. They soften, but they also reveal hurt.
Why would he be hurt when he was the one who kissed me first? When he pulled away like it was a mistake?
I shake my head, scoffing. “I don’t understand you, Calder.” I grab my keys and unlock the front door. “Everything you do is?—”
I stop short and suck in a breath. My stomach dips in horror as I take in the mess that is my cabin. There are documents everywhere, tossed around like they mean nothing. All the files I’d been keeping in a box in the dining room are spread out throughout the main part of the house.
From here, the light in the kitchen flickers ominously. Cabinet doors swing in an imaginary breeze from where they’d been left open. The drawers hang open uselessly, cutlery and cooking utensils scattered across the linoleum.
It looks like someone had taken a knife to my sofa, because there’s foam all over the coffee table.
And by the door is a framed photo of my grandfather and me when I graduated high school, smashed, the glass reflecting the light of the lamp outside the cabin.
Calder tenses beside me, a steady presence I’m suddenly grateful for. He gently pushes me aside, growling under his breath, “Stay here. Call the sheriff.”
But I’m frozen in place. Trapped in my mind. In memories of my grandfather. The last thing I had of his, and it too, has been ruined. Stomped on by someone who doesn’t care, who only sees this as another thing they can take from me.
It doesn’t take Calder long to check the cabin. Whoever had been here must be long gone. The back door, which sits by the kitchen, is open to the darkness beyond.
My throat is tight with emotion, but I don’t feel the sting of tears. When Calder returns, his lips are pressed into a firm line, eyes dark.
“Go get in the truck,” he says. “Let me handle this.”
I don’t really know why I listen to him. I’m a big girl, capable of handling myself. And yet, I do as he says and go back to the truck. I watch him from the passenger seat as he pulls his cell from his back pocket and calls someone. He keeps his back to me for the most part, but tension lines his shoulders and back.
I slide down in my seat, exhaustion pressing in on me. Two weeks of being on my own in this new, unfamiliar place, and someone breaks into my house. The first thing I have of my own that can’t be taken from me, ruined.
I let my eyes close for a moment and wish I were anywhere else. Just the thought of having to be up in a few hours for another shift makes me want to cry.
The driver’s side door opens, truck jostling as Calder slides in. I can’t bring myself to open my eyes just yet.
“The Sheriff is on his way,” he says, voice soft, though barely hiding his anger. “I’m going to take you back to the ranch. You’ll be safe there.”
“I was safe here,” I murmur.
