Page 64 of Somewhere Without You
Westoppedforchilidogs on the way back—some cute little shack with a yellow roof that had been around since the ’50s.
“No salad?”Logan teased, the two of us perched side by side on the tailgate of his truck.
“No salad,”I grinned, polishing off my second one.
By the timewe rolled into Windhaven, nighthadsettledin, and Iwasmore than eager toseeWinston. Itwasthe longestI’dbeen away from him since I brought him home.
“You need to replacethatbulb,”Logan said, nodding toward the lightless porch.
Aswe pulled into the drive, IheardWinston barking from inside, but something else caught my attention. The rear tire on my carwascompletelyflat.
“Damnit,”I muttered, climbing out of the truck.
Logan came around, crouching beside me togeta betterlook.
“Think it’s patchable?”I asked, already bracing myself for the cost of a replacement. Istillhadplenty of cash tucked away, but a new tirewasn’thow I wanted to spend it.
He shook his head.“Not unless you can patch a crater.”
“What are you talking about?”
He pointed to a gash in the rubber.“Thiswasn’tan accident. Someone slashed it.”
I shot up and ran around to check the others butimmediatelyfroze. The wordSLUThadbeen carved into the passenger side of the car in big, angry letters—each one jagged and deep, like whoever did it wanted to hurt more than just the paint.
“What is it?”Logan asked, alarm creeping over his face as he came to stand beside me.
I didn’t answer right away. My stomach had dropped, the air sucked clean out of my lungs. I just pointed, my hand trembling slightly.
Logan followed my gaze. His jaw clenched when he saw it. “Jesus,” he muttered, stepping closer for a better look. “Who the hell—?”
“I don’t know,” I said, voice low.
He turned to me then, something dark flickering behind his eyes. “This wasn’t random.”
No. It wasn’t.
From inside, Winston let out a howl.
I turned and sprinted for the front door with Logan calling after me.
ButI didn’t stop. My hands shook violently as I jammed the key into the lock and shoved the door open. Winston launched toward me, his paws thudding against my chest as I knelt to greet him.
“Stay here,”Logan said, stepping into the darkened house. Minutes dragged by before hefinallyreturned.“It’s clear,”he said.“Winston must’ve sensed someone nearby. Theyprobablytook offjustbefore we got back.”He scanned the darkness beyond the porch.“I’m going to take a quicklookaround—make sure no one’s still outthere.”
I nodded, my mouth dry, as I coaxed Winston back inside. From the window, IwatchedLogan’s flashlight cut through the night—the narrow beam sweeping across the house and over the collapsed barn toward the open field.Whenhe came back,I’dfinallysteadied myself enough to speak.
“Find anything?”I asked, my voice weary.
He shook his head. “Nothing.Whoever itwas, we must’ve scared them off.”
“Why would someone do this?”I whispered, though the answerwasclear.
Thiswasrage. Thiswasanger.
ThiswasJackson.
Warm tears slipped down my cheeks before Ievenrealized Iwascrying.“I’m sorry. Jesus, I’m so sorry.”
