Wild At Heart (Wild 2)
“Then sign ’em!”
“You want me to sign them?”
“I don’t care who signs ’em. I ain’t signin’ shit.” He disappears into the barn.
* * *
“Wait here, okay?”
“Yeah, sure.” Mabel’s eager eyes wander over Roy’s property. “Where’s Oscar?”
The wolf dog was at his usual post this morning to greet us when we reached the garden. Once Mabel knew he wasn’t there to maul us, she became curious, then enamored. “I don’t know. I don’t see either of them. Be back in a minute.”
I grab the wooden crate from the seat between us and carry it to Roy’s front porch. I had planned on leaving it there for him to find in the morning, and yet now that I’m here, I feel compelled to knock.
Moments later, the door creaks open and Roy stands before me in a two-piece pajama set, scowling.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t
realize it was so … late?” It’s only eight. The sun is nowhere near the horizon and won’t be for hours. “We just got home from the farmers’ market.” I can’t keep the wide grin from my face as I fish out the envelope of cash and thrust it forward. “We sold all but two of them.”
Roy’s eyebrows arch as he thumbs through the wad of twenties. “Huh … You were right.”
“I can sell more next week, if you want. Lord knows I’ll have more strawberries to get rid of.” And Roy has hundreds of these to offload.
After a moment, he nods, his frown still on the money.
“Okay, well, I’ll leave this on your counter for you?” I edge in past him to set the box on the counter, next to the full bottle of painkillers. “Where are the dogs, by the way?”
“Out huntin’ for rabbits, probably. They’ll be back soon.”
“Lovely.” I cringe, pushing out the visual of that poor animal’s outcome. “I left Mabel in the truck so I should go—” My last word falters on my tongue as I spot the portrait of Roy and his family back in its place, on the trunk beneath the window. That wasn’t there last night.
My eyes flash to Roy, to see him watching me, his face hard. Daring me to say something. As if I’d make that mistake again. “So, I’ll see you in the morning.” I move for the door, noting the rifle propped against the wall next to it. Good grief, Roy. I shake my head.
“Her name’s Delyla.”
I stop. The name spoken in the silence of this house is deafening.
“She’s a few years older than you. Thirty-four, I think. Maybe thirty-five.” He studies the floor. “I can’t even remember anymore. It’s been so long.”
“That’s a pretty name.” My pulse pounds in my ears, the urge to ask him what happened overpowering. But I bite my tongue. “Have a good night, Roy.” I hold my breath until I duck out the door, and then I let out a long, shaky breath. A smile stretches across my lips.
Mabel’s head is bowed, her earbuds in, her attention glued to her phone. As per usual lately, it seems.
I take the stairs down, a slight spring in my step as my gaze drifts over my surroundings—the tidy stack of wood, the chicken coop, the heap of rusted trucks, the collection of water jugs and propane tanks, the brown bear in front of the barn door—
Every muscle in my body locks instantly, except for the one that controls my jaw.
My mouth drops open to scream.
No sound escapes.
Don’t scream, I remind myself, clamping my lips together as my heart pounds. I steal a panicked glance toward Mabel, who happens to look up then to see my face. Her brow furrows in question.
“Bear.” It’s not loud, almost a whisper.
She must read the word on my lips, because her eyes begin frantically searching, spotting it only moments later.