Page 5 of Delicate Escape

As I straightened, my gaze caught on the pen I’d set up for the foster kittens I’d be getting in the next couple of days. The babies had a litter box, heated blankets, and a little house to retreat into. It was the perfect little nook. Something about creating it had soothed me. Making a home for them where they were safe, warm, and happy. It gave me hope.

Even though my world had been torn apart, I could put theirs back together.

Glancing at Moose, I surveyed the bowl. Already almost halfway gone. A true fiend for food. I turned and headed down the hallway, the floorboards creaking beneath my feet.

The old cabin in the Central Oregon mountains had lain vacant for years. As he aged, the previous owner had sold off his land piece by piece. When he finally passed, the house and remaining land had reverted to the state. The house had been so dilapidated that no one wanted it—no one but me.

I’d gotten it for a steal, even if the hot water only lasted four minutes, and the living room floor sloped to the right. The best part about it was that the land was state wilderness or fields used for grazing and stretched as far as I could see. The only visitors I had these days were cows and horses. Just the way I liked it.

The small log cabin was nestled in the forest, but enough of the tall pines around the house had been cleared to let in plenty of light—sunshine that allowed a garden and greenhouse to flourish. But the trees still offered enough protection to make me feel somewhat…safe.

Everything about the home was perfect, and it was only thanks to Nikki that it was even possible. She’d helped me set up a trust to purchase the property. Each month, I mailed her cash hidden in the bottom of a tin of bakery treats, which she then used to pay the small mortgage for me. No trail led back to me—nothing Brendan could trace.

Because I’d all but disappeared.

No email address. No phone number. No cable or computer. No tech of any kind. I’d closed every account and deleted every piece of my digital footprint I had control over.

But there were some I didn’t. Photos and videos of me at my most vulnerable still floated around the internet, and there was nothing I could do about it.

My throat wound tight on instinct as I swallowed down the burn. There was nothing I could do. I’d tried. It would’ve likely taken thousands of dollars I didn’t have for the lawyer fees, and I still wouldn’t have gotten it all. Because bastards in the dark parts of the internet lived to hold those kinds of things hostage.

Instead, I let Selena die. She simply faded away into nothing, each piece of her erased like writing in the sand at high tide. Now, I was Thea. My blond hair had been transformed into a deep brown, and my pale green eyes were now the shade of mud thanks to contacts. No one would recognize me if they’d seen those cruel photos or the handful of shots the paparazzi had snapped of me and Brendan when we were together.

I pulled a brush through my brown locks, checking the roots. I’d need a touch-up this weekend. But I had what seemed like a lifetime of dye in the hallway linen closet. I splashed water on my face and then slathered it in lotion and sunscreen. After my shift at the bakery, I’d head to my gig at the nursery, and the sun could fry you in an hour if you weren’t careful.

Checking my watch, I hurried to dress in jeans and a tee, making sure there were no new holes I’d missed. I slipped on my boots and headed back toward Moose. “You going to behave today?”

The cat meowed from his perch on the tower in front of the window.

“Who am I kidding? You’re always up to no good.” I made quick work of checking the locks on every window, then gave Moose one last scratch.

He did that chattering thing again as I headed for the front door, wanting me to stay put. But he’d be fine. He had cat TV—the massive picture window pointed toward the garden and the forest beyond it.

One day, I’d give him a better view. A giant picture window overlooking Castle Rock or the mountain range to the east. Maybe both.

It was the thing that had stopped me on my road trip escapefrom LA to Oregon. The breathtaking beauty could freeze you to the spot—the golden statues of Castle Rock and the purplish snowcapped Monarch Mountains. Something about the vastness of it all had made my problems seem small. And the way the small town of Sparrow Falls was nestled into that vastness made me feel safe for the first time since I’d met Brendan Boseman.

I let out a breath as I stepped outside. Even though we were deep into June, the mornings were chilly in the mountains. But the hummingbirds were already out. A smile tugged at my lips as I watched while two deftly navigated the garden to the feeders I’d placed throughout. Something about the creatures and how they hovered and darted touched me. While delicate, they were warriors in their own right. Escaping enemies left and right.

I forced my gaze away, pulling my sweatshirt over my head and turning to lock the door. Some might consider the deadbolt extreme. It didn’t look like a normal lock on a home, and it had taken me months to save up the sixteen-hundred-dollar price tag. But when someone lived through what I had, you did whatever it took to keep intruders from your home. A dozen of these deadbolts wouldn’t be enough.

I knew it was a coping mechanism. Some tiny measure of control when so much of that very thing had been stripped from me. But it helped. The sound of the lock clicking. My keys tucked into my pocket. They were never off my person. Never anywhere someone could lift them and make copies.

Just like I placed alarms on each and every window. Not ones wired to any electronics, just those that would blare a horrendous sound if the windows were opened. You could create your own tech-free alarm system if you were creative enough. And I’d found a book at the library that helped with ideas. Motion sensor lights, window shields that allowed me to see out but prevented anyone from seeing in, and a garden that would tell me if anyone had been in its midst.

It didn’t matter that I hadn’t seen or heard from Brendan in almost two years. The routine was ingrained in me now. And it did soothe. It was more than simply thinking it kept me safe. It was almostlike compulsively knocking on wood. The routine kept me safer than the actual locks and sensors did.

Because even though I’d braced my first few months in Sparrow Falls, Brendan hadn’t found me. And as each day passed, a little more traitorous hope filled me that he wouldn’t. That he’d forgotten about me and moved on with his life.

Sliding my keys into my front pocket, I grabbed my helmet. I lived for the months when I could ride my bike into town. It might take me thirty-plus minutes, but it saved on gas, and the trip was also a meditation of sorts—with a stunning backdrop.

Today was no different. I pushed off, riding down the gravel road that would take me to the two-lane highway into town. The cool morning air stung my cheeks, but in a way that reminded me I was alive. I never took those reminders for granted.

As I reached the edge of the forest and rode into the pastureland, a cow let out a bellowing moo in greeting. “Morning, Bessie,” I called back. I had no clue if it was the same cow from yesterday. They all looked identical to me. But they were freaking adorable, just the same.

Turning east toward town, I got my first peek at the breathtaking mountains, just as the sun crested their peaks. The early rays painted the forests and fields in a riot of color—the kind of creation I never would’ve gotten in LA. And that was a gift, too. A path I never would’ve expected but was grateful for all the same.

My bike hit the rumble strip, and I cursed as I righted it. I probably shouldn’t let that gratitude get me killed.

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