Welcome Home, Katie Gallagher

“No reason.” He tossed a box spring onto the tower of crap in his truck. When he came back in, he detoured by the dining table, picked up two empty garbage bags and checked the gun in his holster.

“What the hell is up there?” That settled it. I was living in my car.

He trotted down a few minutes later, two big bags held tightly in his hands. I swear I saw one of them move.

“What is it?” I backed away as he went out the door, placing them gently in the back of his truck, before holding them down with a box of shredded books. “Seriously, Aiden. You have to tell me. I’ll never sleep again. And how do you know there aren’t babies or eggs or some other smaller version of those things that are going to grow up and bite my head off?”

He watched me panic, backing farther away from the house. His lips twitched, and I stopped. What. The. Hell. He turned his back on me, shoulders shaking.

“You’re screwing with me?” I screeched. I stalked across the yard and proceeded to smack every inch of him that I could reach. “You ass! I was planning to spend the next few years living in my car because of you!”

The bastard was laughing so hard, he had a difficult time fighting off my slaps. Finally, he grabbed both wrists and held them together in front of me. “This position probably feels pretty familiar, huh?”

I glared. I couldn’t move my arms, so I kicked him.

“No kicking. Or slapping. You already have a record of accosting police officers. I’d hate to have to lock you up again.”

As a child, he’d been a hero, facing down bullies. As an adult, it looked like he’d become one. “That hurts,” I said, voice low and expressionless.

He loosened his grip immediately and began rubbing my wrists with his thumbs. I could feel tears gathering. I wouldn’t look at him. I pulled my arms away and strode back into the house, slamming the door after me. I realized too late that Chaucer was still sitting on the porch. My dramatic exit lost a few points when I had to open the door and call him in.

Aiden

I KEPT CHECKING my rearview mirrors to make sure nothing was slipping off the truck. I couldn’t believe it had never occurred to me to check inside Nellie’s house. Pops hadn’t stepped foot inside since she got sick. I doubt he’d change that status today, but I didn’t want him to know what we let happen.

Walking through the place, it didn’t feel like Nellie’s anymore. Her furniture was missing. Her walls were dirty. The paintings and photos had been taken down. It was a shell. Nellie was absent, and the loss of her hit hard.

Honk. I turned to see Nancy driving in the other direction, waving at me. I lifted one hand in acknowledgment. Nancy was a mistake. I’d been paying for that lapse in judgment ever since I’d slept with her. Once. Almost year ago now. She wouldn’t leave me alone. Every time I turned around, there she was, talking too close and touching my arm. I needed to figure out what to do.

And why was Katie back in Bar Harbor and sleeping in her car? When I saw furniture piled up on the porch, I’d thought Nellie’s place was being robbed. It wasn’t until I’d driven close enough to see her trashed BMW that I’d remembered.

I was sorry to have scared her, but why wasn’t she at a hotel? That house wasn’t going to be livable for a while. The floors would need to be stripped, sanded and resealed. The walls and ceilings would need to be painted, furniture replaced. But before any of that could happen, she’d need an exterminator. I saw enough movement walking through that house to know she had a major infestation problem. I heard scratching in the ceiling, too. She probably had raccoon or opossums living up there. What’s she going to do? Sleep on the floor through all that? Nah. She found herself a rich husband, trashed his $60,000 car and then made jokes about being arrested. It was all a big joke to her. She’d figure things out.

A twinge of regret poked at me. I didn’t mean to hurt her wrists, though. I was just playing around.

Huh. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d played.

She was fighting back tears at the end. Was I being a dick, or was she just not used to being teased? Oh, hell. It was done, and I wasn’t seeing her again, hopefully. What difference did it make?

Still. Even after all these years, looking at her took my breath away. Four in the morning, hair sticking out in every direction, scared out of her wits, blanket pulled up to her nose, and I wanted to drag her into my arms and kiss her senseless. Oh, fuck me.

CHAPTER EIGHT (#ua0119f64-7923-58ff-b597-fc99d06549e9)

Kate

SITTING AT THE freshly washed worktable with a notepad and pen, I wrote a list of what I needed for my new life.

1) NO MEN! My life will be greatly improved by their absence.

2) A clean, animal-free (except for Chaucer) house.

3) Food.

4) Money to buy aforementioned food.

Sighing, I considered my needs. I needed Gran to forgive me for not being here when I should have been. One week a year hadn’t been enough. I hadn’t fought Justin the way I should have, the way Gran would have for me. I needed...

5) Forgiveness. Someday.

6) Better decision-making skills!

Seriously, was I absent from school when they taught that unit?

6b) Stop making fear-based decisions!

After Dad died and Mom fell apart, fear had consumed me. I no longer ran toward what I wanted. I ran away from what I feared. Dad was gone. There one minute and gone the next. Stroke. Anyone at any time could disappear, and I’d be left alone. I’d trailed after Mom, doing everything I could think of to keep her afloat. I couldn’t lose her, too. I think that was how Justin wormed his way into my life. He seemed solid and dependable, protective. It took me too long to realize that controlling and protective were two very different things. And solid? Dependable? Not so much.

7) A job. To get money. To buy food.

Doing what, though? I’d only ever done research work for Mom. Cleaning out her office, grading undergrad tests, returning books to the library. Hmm, I did pretty much the same for Justin, minus the research, tests and library. I ran errands, cooked, cleaned, paid bills. Did anyone in town need a personal assistant?

8) Cleaning gloves.

The mold in Gran’s fridge had been epic.

9) Traps, big and small.

Crap, I was going to have to throw out critters stuck in traps, wasn’t I? I thought longingly of the car. Maybe I really should live in the car.

10) Dog food.

11) Every cleaning and disinfecting product they sell.

12) A sleeping bag.

13) A dog bed.

14) A pillow.

15) Chocolate, lots of chocolate.

16) Toilet paper.

17) Shampoo and conditioner.

18) Razor blades.

19) Chips, every kind of chip.