Page 5 of Cautious

Looking out the window, I see that the bright blue sky has begun to darken, a dusky violet hue painting the view as the colors outside mute their intensity with the approaching darkness. I had been so busy trying to get everything done that I never realized how much time had passed.

“Fuck.” I want to climb under a steaming hot shower and try out speed settings eight through twelve of the Invader before collapsing into the surprisingly comfortable bed, but the fridge and cupboards are bare. If there is one thing that trumps sleep, it’s food. After ordering takeout last night, I’m reluctant to do so again.

When I was a kid, we moved around a lot. Most of our time was spent in either shelters or motels, and I ended up developingsome quirks. I like my cupboards and fridge to always be full. There is something visually comforting about opening the door, knowing I can eat what I want whenever I want it.

My stomach grumbles in agreement with my thoughts. “Well, the food isn’t going to buy itself,” I mutter before dragging myself back up the stairs for a quick shower. I throw on my favorite pair of faded blue jeans and a black tank top with the word nope printed across the chest. Tugging my hair up into a messy bun, I slip my feet into my Converse and call it good. It’s not like I’m trying to impress anyone, and I figure the odds of me running into Charlie Hunnam are relatively low.

I snag my keys and wallet from the table in the hallway and lock up before making my way down the path toward my beat-up, phlegm-green VW beetle. There is a breeze in the air, offering a nice reprieve from today’s unseasonably warm temperature. Perfect for driving with the windows down and the music turned up.

I have my hand on the car door, my key ready to open it, when I hear a hiss and then a groan, followed by the sound of something dropping to the ground in the yard next door.

Hesitating for a moment, I remind myself of the lessons I learned about stranger danger in school. I’ve already interacted with a hotel clerk, a delivery guy, and Bundy in the last twenty-four hours. That’s three people over my usual limit. I turn back to my car but hesitate when I hear a soft, pain-filled gasp. Feeling uneasy, I wait a little longer, looking around for a more adulty adult and sigh when I realize I’m the only one about.Urgh, fine.

“I deserve two tubs of ice cream for this good Samaritan shit,” I mumble, making my way across the uneven pebbles and around the row of conifers separating my neighbor’s house from mine. Keeping my key in my hand just in case I need a weapon, Iberate myself for not investing in some mace. I’d buy a gun, but knowing me, I’d shoot myself in the foot the first day I had it.

I make my way around the bush that runs along the road at the end of the neighbor’s driveway. An older lady, probably in her early to late seventies, is standing next to her trash cans by the gate at the end of her drive. By her feet is a black bag that has split open, spilling its contents of food scraps and trash, littering the surrounding ground. The woman is gripping a walker, using it for balance as she attempts to bend. Each movement looks painful, so much so that I wince when she gasps once more.

“Here, let me help you with that,” I offer, sliding my keys and wallet into the back pocket of my jeans before pulling the wrought iron gate open.

She startles slightly, placing a hand over her chest. “Jesus fucking Christ, you scared the shit out of me,” she swears, making my polite smile turn huge. This gray-haired woman wearing a hot-pink housecoat and sporting a head full of rollers has just become my idol.

“My bad. I come in peace. I swear.” I do the Vulcan salute to show my sincerity before bending down and scooping up all the trash and depositing it into the trash cans.

“Thank you so much, dear. I had a fall, and now I’m not quite as sprightly as I once was,” she explains, clearly frustrated.

“I’m sure you’ll be back to your normal self soon enough,” I reassure her, although I have no idea if that’s true.

“I do hope so. Gentlemen callers prefer bendy girls, after all,” she tells me straight-faced, making me gulp and then choke on a lungful of air.

Oh my god. I want to be her when I grow up.

“Come, let’s get your hands washed, and I’ll make you some tea.”

It doesn’t cross my mind to refuse. I’m strangely charmed by this dirty-mouthed grandma. Plus, my hands are sticky and gross.

“Tell me, dear, what’s your name?” she asks, carefully maneuvering her walker over the step into her house. I follow her, closing the door behind me.

“I’m Callie, your new neighbor,” I inform her as we make our way into a brightly lit, cozy kitchen with a cottage-style theme.

“Sit, sit.” She shoos me into the corner where her table and chairs are, the same spot I have mine.

She continues to talk as she buzzes about making us a drink. “My name is Juniper Price, like the berry, but you can call me June. All my friends do.”

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, June. Have you lived here long?” I question, taking the cup that she hands me. Small talk—I can do small talk, right?

“Hmm… I’ve lived in Tempest my whole life. I traveled some in my younger years, but I always knew I would settle here, and, lucky for me, my late husband loved it here as much as I do.”

“I can see why. I’ve only seen a tiny slice of it, and I’m half in love with the place already.”

She smiles as she sits in her chair gingerly. “It has that effect on people. Take my grandson, for instance. He joined the army straight out of high school. He couldn’t wait to get out and explore what the world has to offer. Don’t get me wrong, he did, but now he is back here, drawn to it like a moth to the flame.”

I smile at her softly as I take a sip of the sweet tea and place it on the table in front of me. “I’d say your grandson came home for more than just the town.” I know I would have if I’d been blessed to have had a grandmother like June. Sadly, both sets of my grandparents died when I was young—too young for me to remember them now.

She beams at my words, taking the compliment as I intended, when something she said clicks into place.

“Wait, Price? Is your grandson named Blake by any chance?” I blurt out, realizing that would explain how he ended up on my doorstep in the pouring rain.

“Why, yes, have you two met?” she inquires, her eyes sparkling at the thought.

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