Page 34 of The Outsider

When they got back to his place, he helped her carry her things inside. He showed her to the bedroom that he’d moved the bed into. “I guess I ought to get you a nightstand and a dresser.”

She looked like she didn’t know what to say to that. She looked around the room, her eyes totally unreadable.

“I’ll just... I’ll get some things organized, and then I’ll do laundry.”

“You want to go over to the big house for dinner?”

“Can I...? Could we...? I mean can I...?”

“There’s some shit in the freezer if you don’t want to go out again. That’s fine.”

“That would be good,” she said, looking relieved.

“All right. I’ll leave you to it.”

He didn’t need her to thank him. He wasn’t doing it for gratitude. But it bothered him a little that he didn’t feel any lighter. It hadn’t gone any further in cleansing his soul than he’d imagined it would.

That’s fine. Just keep going. Just stay on the straight and narrow.

What other option was there?

Chapter Seven

Bix closed the door to the bedroom. Her bedroom? For now. She was shaking, and she hadn’t wanted him to see it. Because it made her feel weak. Made her feel small. And she had been feeling pretty good until she had to go back to the van and look at her life through his eyes. Today with Justice and Denver, she had felt something else. Something new. Like she was free. They were fine. They swore and told crass stories and made her laugh. She made them laugh too, and it had been a good time. She had fun climbing up to the top of the barn. And it had amused her that Daughtry was so put off by it.

She didn’t know why he would care. If she fell off the roof she wouldn’t be his problem anymore. On some level, it seemed like he would think that was a good thing.

The sheets and blankets on the bed didn’t match. But they were clean and soft. There were two pillows, and she didn’t really know what to do with that. She didn’t need to. It was excessive. It had been one thing to sleep on Daughtry’s bed with all those extra pillows. It was reasonable for a man to give himself a whole ton of extra pillows, she felt.

Him giving an extra one to her was just... It spoke of a concern for comfort.

And yet again, she didn’t quite know what to do with that.

She picked up her box of books and put it on the bed. She didn’t share her life with anyone. She didn’t share things. It had been humiliating to have him look at the books. She had readThe Wolf and the Dove.

She had read it at least fifty times.

One of the things she liked about it was how strong the heroine was. Everything was terrible; it was the Middle Ages, after all. The heroine was kidnapped, chained to a bed and held captive by a fierce and handsome warrior.

If there was something about that fantasy that appealed to her... it was her business. She wouldn’t say that she had any kind of romantic inclinations. Again, she couldn’t afford them.

But it was nice to escape into a different world for a little while. To imagine that a dark and dangerous experience could lead to something... wonderful.

At least Daughtry hadn’t chained her to the bed.

She blinked, doing her best to banish that image. Actually, when she really thought about it, it was difficult not to superimpose bits of that book over her current experience.

Of course, she wasn’t a prisoner. And she was the one that had invaded Daughtry’s space. Her castle hadn’t been invaded by Norman conquerors. She didn’t have a castle. She had an old gross van.

It bothered her, too, that she found that so embarrassing. Because she didn’t care what he thought about her. He was the kind of person who would always look down on someone like her.

Except, he hadn’t done that.

Well, he didn’t do it openly. But she had felt the sting of embarrassment when he had looked at all of her books. Like he was combing through her thoughts.

She picked up her copy ofRich Dad Poor Dad. She didn’t put a lot of stock into this kind of thing. Most of the advice in books like this was for people who already had a certain amount of success. Who already had something to work with.

But it made her feel like she was doing something. She hadn’t gone to school. Any education she’d had, she’d worked for. A lot of it was through reading. She was grateful that people passed their books on.

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