Page 42 of Hideaway Whirlwind
Even stranger. To not only have a real friend but also have my wishes respected instead of my secret being used to manipulate or control me is so foreign that, for a second, I don’t quite believe I heard her right.
And then she reaches across and holds my hand. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
My eyes turn hot when I whisper, “Me too.”
After discarding the empty muffin package, I follow Goldie into the hall bathroom, where she keeps some of her meds stored on the top shelf of the medicine cabinet. She whispers a goodnight, and I carefully measure out the dose I need to take. A flash of silver from the corner of my eye draws my attention to the bathroom window, and the little hairs on the nape of my neck stand on end.
It’s so dark outside that I can’t tell where the sky ends and the trees surrounding Goldie’s property begin when I press my nose to the glass like a moth drawn to an invisible flame. The baby chooses that moment to kick me for the first time, and I fall just a little bit more in love with them. The allergy meds must have worked lightning fast, because the itch is gone by the time I lift Davis’s sweatshirt to press my hand to my lower belly. My cheeks ache with the strength of my smile when my baby kicks me right in the middle of my palm.
I carry that smile with me into the spare bedroom, choosing to climb into bed beside Sydney, where my sweet, heartbroken little girl sniffles and immediately turns over, allowing me to tuck her in close.
Elliott
I breathe deep in through my nose and out through my mouth repeatedly as my vision darkens, trying to remain calm so I don’t do something stupid like break into Davis’s house andsnatch Birdie up as I watch her through the bathroom window. It’s especially difficult to stay in control of my animalistic impulses when Birdie lays her palm on her rounded belly with the most serene expression…while wearing Davis’s sweatshirt.
My skin is as inflamed and itchy as hers when she turns off the light and leaves the bathroom, and I ball my fists to keep from tearing my skin to shreds when I quietly jog around the side of the house, then down the driveway past the brown Bronco that I’ve left for Birdie.
Russell idles in his white dually pickup with his headlights off, parked halfway in the ditch that runs parallel to the two-lane road, waiting to drive me back home. “You good?” he asks when I wrench open the passenger side door and throw myself onto the seat, rocking the truck side to side like a skiff on rough water.
“No.” I resist the urge to slam the door shut and disturb the peace with my rising hysteria.
Russell drums his fingers on his steering wheel faster as I find it harder and harder to breathe the farther away we get from my family on the way back to my cabin. “Care to share?” he asks.
“She was wearing Davis’s sweatshirt.” I crack my neck, rolling my shoulders, trying to shake off the violence threading itself through my mind when I picture Davis leading my boy out of the cabin by the hand.
“Ah,” he says with understanding. “You know nothing’s gonna happen between them.”
“‘Course I know that.” Davis is as obsessed with Goldie as Russell is with Layla. “Doesn’t mean I want her wearing his clothes.” More than that, I want to set every piece of his clothing on fire so my Birdie can never borrow any of his everagain.
Back at my cabin, I stroke Storm’s fur when she greets me at the door and make sure her food and water bowls are full before I stuff my travel duffel bag with a few more of my shirts, half my collection of sweatpants and socks, and my denim jacket. On my way out, I grab my jug of laundry detergent and fold up the two comforters Birdie and the kids had used. At the last second, I remember to sift through my junk drawer until I find a pad of paper and a pen. Then I’m back on the road, this time alone and in the blue Bronco.
Since my noisy vehicle will give away my presence and run me the risk of getting shot by Goldie if she finds an intruder on her property, I park farther down the road. I jot down a quick note with my phone number, praying Birdie will call me the minute phone service is back up. If I can’t have all of her yet, I at least want to hear her bird song. Like a lovesick teenager, I fold and kiss the note, then run in a crouch up the driveway with my haul. Since I had left the brown Bronco’s keys taped to Goldie’s front door, I have to jimmy open the driver’s side door to deposit my haul inside.
There.
Now I can leave.
Except that I can’t.
I need one more look.
At least with the power still out, the motion-sensing floodlights on the exterior corners of the house don’t flick on as I make my way to the right side of the house, cupping my hands around my eyes when I press my forehead against the spare bedroom’s window so I can see inside, wishing I could scoop up Birdie and Sydney and curl up on the bed beside Dustin and Kendall.
The sun is just starting to break the horizon when I can finally pull myself away from the window. My back is screaming all the worse, and my eyes are probably bloodshot after being hunched over all night, staring at my family as they slept in fits and starts, tossing and turning in bed. They would have slept so much better at home, where they should have been, instead of here in a stranger’s house. I shouldn’t be pleased by that, but I shamefully am.
I want to stay and watch Birdie’s reaction to finding the Bronco and all I’ve left for her, but I’m not confident in my ability to control myself if I were to see her or any of the kids come outside. Since kidnapping apparently isn’t out of the question of what I might do, I force myself to leave so I can prepare for the next step of my plan, knowing I’ll be back as soon as the sun sets.
Chapter 20
Teagan
Davis hooks his thumbs behind his big silver belt buckle while Goldie crosses her arms and taps the toe of her cowgirl boot, miffed that Elliott was able to sneak onto their property without alerting either one of them. Meanwhile, my heart is pounding as I stand in shock before the brown Bronco with the driver’s side door open, clutching the note with Elliott’s phone number and the car keys he left.
Not only was he sneaking around, but he also somehow broke into Goldie’s Explorer without setting off the car alarm and transferred the kids’ car seats to the Bronco. And that flash of silver I saw through the bathroom window last night? I’d bet the itchy clothes on my back and everything I own that it was him, watching me. No, Iknowit was him.
Elliott. A man perhaps more dangerous—and certainly more deadly—than anyone I’ve ever known, save for the leaders responsible for blowing up the compound. A man I’ve only known for going on thirteen days. A man that the kids miss terribly. A man that I stupidly miss, too.
Dustin, Sydney, and Kendall had been so excited when theysawPapa’scar in the driveway, and the tears flowed freely all over again when I had to tell them Elliott left the vehicle for us, but that he had gone back home.
