Page 15 of Castaway Whirlwind
“Will do.” I hug her extra tight, silently communicating how grateful I am to her. Harold and Jared both pat my shoulders, Wyatt gives me a short wave after I hug goodbye to Dolly and Faye, and then they’re gone in a flurry of voices that fade as I watch them drive off. I wave and close the door, then turn and press my back to it.
My yawn is cut short by a scream when Russell steps out of my bathroom. He raises his hands, darting closer but stopping just short of arm’s reach. “Shi-oot, darlin’, didn’t mean to scare you.”
My heart thumps hearing him call medarlin’again. If it wouldn’t be too weird, I’d ask him to repeat it on video so I can replay it when I need a little boost. “I thought you left with the rest.”Without saying goodbye to me, I add silently. Not thatthat would have been unusual. “Didn’t Jared pick you up from the airport?”
He nods. “But he dropped me off at home first so I could grab my truck.”
I somehow hadn’t noticed it, which is saying something since it’s a behemoth. I hide a yawn with the back of my hand. “Ok. Well…” I twist the doorknob. “Thanks for coming by. I’ll, um, see you tomorrow?”
Russell swings his keys on a finger. “You’re working the morning shift at Granny’s?” I nod. “What time do you have to be at the bridal place?”
I check the time on my phone. “A little under two hours.”
“And what time do you get off?”
“Ten. Why?”
“So, when were you planning on going grocery shopping?” He tips his head toward the refrigerator, which is empty.
“I don’t know,” I answer with a shrug. “Probably when I get off at the diner tomorrow.”
He clicks his tongue disapprovingly, and I wait for him to say something else, but his eyes shift to the door, and I widen it to let him out.
“Thanks,” I say after he steps out, though I don’t know what I’m thanking him for since he hasn’t done anything except hug me, then get really awkward about it.
At first, I don’t think he’s going to respond as he stares at the big, fuzzy purple slippers I’m wearing in lieu of shoes, but he eventually looks up and asks, “Any allergies or dietary restrictions?”
“What?”
“Anything you’re allergic to and can’t or won’t eat?”
“I’m allergic to pineapple, and I don’t like chicken or turkey.Why?”
He nods instead of answering yet another one of my questions, then makes his way to his dually parked at the farthest end of the lot, mostly concealed by a giant oak tree whose roots have grown too close to the edge, busting up the concrete.
After that confusing exchange, I close and lock the door and double-check my bathroom, just in case anyone else is hiding. Though Ihadintended to finish unpacking, another yawn has me setting an alarm on my phone so I can take a nap before I have to get ready for my shift at the boutique.
My empty stomach rumbles again, but it doesn’t stop me from passing out as soon as I change into my nightgown, grab the white teddy bear I hid on the top shelf of my closet, crawl onto the bare mattress, and curl up in a ball.
* * *
A knock on the door drags me from my sleep thirty minutes before my alarm is set to go off, so I’m grumpy when I stumble out of bed and rush to open it. I quickly hide my bear behind my back when Russell parts his lips, his arms loaded with plastic shopping bags. Behind him is his truck parked right in front of my unit, the back passenger door still open.
“What are you doing here?” I die a little inside when he notices my cheap old nightgown patterned with unicorns shooting rainbows out of their horns.
He takes a slow step forward, and I automatically step to the side to let him enter. I gape when he drops the bags off on the kitchen table, then leaves and comes back with even more bags. A third trip has him carrying a large plastic zipper bag containing a pastel blue comforter and sheet set that he dropson my mattress, four king-sized pillows, and a fuzzy, purple body pillow nearly as long as I am tall. And finally, a fourth trip has him kicking his back door closed before carrying a laundry basket full of more bags of stuff.
Once I close and lock the door, I hurry to hide my bear in my closet, wrap my waffle robe around me to hide my nightgown, then trail into the bathroom to find him tearing open a cardboard package to fit the pieces of a silver shower rod together.
“What is all this?”
Russell grunts, eyeing my robe that’s hardly longer than my nightgown, then tucks the rod under his arm. He hands me a package containing a beachy shower curtain, plastic liner, and twelve hooks to hang on the rod that he’s already putting up into place.
“Seriously, Russell. This is—” I can’t catch my breath, my shoulders starting to shake while my stomach clenches. “This is too much. I don’t…hundreds of dollars…I can’t pay you back anytime soon and…” I’m trying to hold it together, hating it when people see me cry, their looks of pity even harder to bear.
As soon as he finishes tightening the rod so it doesn’t fall, he turns, his brows pulled low. “You’re not paying me back. I won’t take it.”
“Then, I’ll have to clean—”
