Page 2 of Lumberjack DADDY
As I eat, my mind keeps flashing back to the girl in the woods. The girl in cabin B. Emery Pierce. My mind keeps seeing her face. Of course, there was surprise—shock—when our eyes met. There was a lustful hunger in them as well. But beyond that, there was something else in her eyes. She had an almost haunted look about her. Grief. Pain. A blend of both. I recognize it so easily because I see it every time I look in the fucking mirror.
I’m forty years old, did four tours overseas, and have a lifetime of things I regret. Things I’d do over if I had the chance. A lifetime of people I’ve lost and a lifetime spent having the world pile more and more onto my shoulders. Some days, the weight feels like more than I can bear. But that’s my life. Without my past, I wouldn’t be who I am today, and whether I regret it or not, I’m pretty goddamn okay with who I am.
But what could cause a girl so young to have such sorrow and pain in her eyes? She couldn’t be more than twenty-one or twenty-two. She seems way too young to have such a deep shadow following her around. She hasn’t yet lived enough life to have those kinds of weighty regrets. And yet, I saw them in her all the same.
It makes me curious about her. Not curious enough to go knock on her door and ask. The biggest reason I live out here in the middle of nowhere, on my own, is because I don’t do people. Not anymore. They’re complicated and messy. They’re difficult to deal with. And aside from people, I don’t do drama, and people inherently come with lots of it.
All I want is to live out here in peace. Drama-free. And most of all, people-free. I’ve had my fill and simply want to live out my days in quiet. I make a fair amount from my military pension and some smart investments, but I still need to generate an income. If not for that need, I wouldn’t have the rental properties I have. Wouldn’t rent my cabins out AirBnB-style, and would live my life completely on my own. As I want it.
But life seldomly ever lets us live it as we want it. And so, here I am. Forced to deal with people out of necessity, not desire. And yet, despite that, I can’t keep myself from feeling somewhat intrigued by the girl in cabin B.
3
EMERY
“Haven’t seen you around here before.”
I look up and find a man standing in the aisle. Five-ten or so with sandy-blonde hair that’s stylishly tousled, hazel-colored, and golden sun-kissed skin, he looks like the stereotypical California surfer boy. Which is kind of interesting given that we’re up in the mountains and nowhere near the coast. I’d have to imagine he does a lot of snowboarding when the snow falls.
Despite the goofy store apron he’s wearing, he carries himself with a bit of a swagger and stares at me like he’s starving and I’m a buffet, which kind of creeps me out. I really don’t like the way his eyes slide up and down my body. I came down the mountain to get some supplies, not to be ogled. And certainly not to hook up with this guy. He seems to catch himself and meets my eyes, offering me a small smile.
“How do you know that? I ask.
“Because I know everybody in town. And we don’t have anybody here near as pretty as you are,” he says with a smile that’s supposed to look charming but simply looks greasy.
I’m not sure what to say to that, so I say nothing. Instead, I offer him a small smile, then turn to go, but he stops me.
“You just moved to Greencrest or somethin’?” he asks.
“No. Just on vacation,” I tell him.
Pushing my cart, I walk into the next aisle. The guy follows me. The store isn’t very busy, which isn’t surprising given how small the town of Greencrest is. There aren’t many options for someone to help me get this guy off my back. I do my best to ignore him, pushing my cart through the store as I gather up everything I’m going to need to get me through the next few days. I’d like to limit the number of times I’ve got to come into town.
“So, my name’s Travis,” he says. “Travis Miller. I was born and raised here in Greencrest.”
“I’m Emery,” she said.
I was polite but tried to make it clear I was not interested in carrying on a conversation, and breathed a sigh of relief when Travis was called away by one of the other customers. I hustle over to the meat counter and toss some ground beef and chicken into my cart. After that, I head for the cereal aisle, and when I turn the corner, I feel the hair on the back of my neck standing on end. Despite knowing he’s behind me again, I still flinch when he speaks.
“You know, I can get you the freshest chicken we have,” he says. “It’s all in the back?—”
“No, I’m fine. But thank you.”
“Are you sure? Wouldn’t be any trouble?—”
“I’m fine, Travis,” I say firmly. “But thank you.”
I grab a couple of boxes of cereal and one of cinnamon oatmeal, throwing them in my cart and hustling down the aisle. His footsteps are just behind me, and part of me is tempted to just abandon my cart and flee the store just to get away from him. But I’ve already been forced to give up too much. I’ve already been made to feel weak. Powerless. Like I have no control over my life. And I’m not going to do that again.
“So, you said you’re just here for a vacation, huh?” Travis says.
“Yes. That’s right.”
My brain is screaming at me to turn around and tear into him. To get in his face and tell him to leave me the heck alone. But I’ve been conditioned—trained—to be polite. And after so many years of being beaten into subservience and made to exist in silence, first by my parents, then by my now ex-boyfriend, Ryan, I’ve lost my voice. And part of my reason for being up in these mountains in the first place is to find it again.
But it’s not like I can flip a switch. I’m hardwired to be demure. Polite. I can’t just push a button in my brain and become some vocal, strong, warrior woman who takes no crap from anybody. I want to get there. Like really badly. I’m confident I’ll get there, but my overwhelming desire to scream at this man to get the heck away from me isn’t going to come to fruition. Not right away. But it’s a process. That kind of deprogramming takes time.
Travis is called away again, and I hear him grumbling under his breath as he walks away. I take the opportunity to hustle throughthe store and gather up everything else that I need to survive the next few days up on the mountain. My basket full, I head for the register, and when I see Travis pop behind the counter, a soft groan passes my lips.
