Page 21 of Wrecked for Love
“Hello?” My voice cut through the silence.
Nothing.
Maybe it was just an animal or my imagination.
I sauntered back to the front of the cottage. My gaze drifted to theFor Rentsign as I felt a nudge beneath my ribs, urging me to dial the number—just to inquire. Maybe…maybe I should stay.
Then, the faint rustle of wheels caught my ear. A boy on a bicycle had paused on the street, his curious eyes on the cottage.
“Hey,” I called out, offering a smile. “Do you live around here?”
He gave me a quick grin, shy but sweet, then bolted off like a startled deer.
Poor kid. I probably scared him. Half-dazed yet wired like a zombie on a sugar high, I wouldn’t blame him for running the other way.
But honestly, that boy was cute. He couldn’t have been older than fifteen.
My gaze settled back on The Willow, and I took in the surroundings, spinning slowly to remind myself of their beauty. Friendly faces were easy to come by, but the ones that truly stirred your heart? They were rare, no matter how far you roamed.
The idea of staying was tempting. But it terrified me. I’d spent my life learning not to get attached. Not to places, things…or people.
Elia had given me safety for the night, but I knew better than to believe that anyone could offer me real safety from the ghosts that followed me. If I asked, I knew he’d offer me a place to stay, maybe even let me work around the farm. His eyes—steady, sharp, but tempered in a way that unnerved me—hinted at it. He’d probably prepare another room for me if I asked. But I couldn’t bring my chaos to his door. I couldn’t make him pay the price Rick Ashbourne already had.
As always, there was one last stop—if this town had one.
After some searching, I spotted a small, bare-bones animal shelter. If I had my bearings right, it sat opposite The Lazy Moose on the north end of town. Beyond it, the “Leaving Buffaloberry” sign confirmed I was at the edge.
I pushed open the creaky door. The smell hit me first—a mix of disinfectant battling the damp, earthy scent of fur and hay but never quite winning. Wire cages lined the front, and their occupants, mostly cats, watched with half-lidded eyes, barely interested. In the back, a few dogs barked in steady intervals, like clockwork.
The front desk was empty. Before anyone could notice, I slipped a stack of bills into the donation box—it almost didn’t fit. This had become part of my routine, just like every visit since leaving Bobo, the husky.
And then I drove on to the next town and the next. No destination. Just running. Always running.
8
CLAIRE
Somewhere in Wyoming
The couple in the next room were arguing well into the early hours, and the paper-thin walls rattled with the force of their shouting. Back in New York, I would’ve just used earplugs and slept through it all. The only thing I’d have missed was my alarm the next morning. But now? I couldn’t afford to miss anything.
I sat up and slammed my fist against the wall. “Hey! Some of us are trying to sleep!”
For a brief, hopeful moment, silence stretched through the room. Then—bang. A violent thud from the other side shook the headboard. “Shut up and check out if you can’t handle us, princess!” a woman shrieked. The rest dissolved into a slurred mess of expletives that didn’t even make sense by the end.
For half a second, I almost laughed. It was so over-the-top for something as minor as asking for quiet. But the humor flickered out fast. Not when I’d been running on fumes, hopping from one grimy motel to another, never getting more than a couple of hours of sleep before some kind of disaster hit. Not when this was just another night in a long string of them.
Screw it. I was done.
As I stepped into the cold night air, the neon Vacancy sign buzzed overhead, casting a red glow on the cracked pavement.
I needed somewhere else. Somewhere better. Somewhere I could breathe.
The place existed. I just didn’t want to admit it. Admitting it meant complications, and complications were the last thing I had the capacity to deal with.
With a deep breath, I started the car, ready to leave this town behind. No matter how bad the day had been, no matter how desperate I was to escape, one ritual remained—the town’s animal shelter.
It was dark, but faint barks echoed from the back. I shoved an envelope under the front door, making sure it was far enough inside that no one could pull it back out. Then, I drove away.
