Page 11 of Unmask
“You don’t have to say. It’s been rough. Probably really hard for you.” He let out a heavy sigh, dumping the glass into the trash before facing me again. “I’m sorry about what happened, for not being able to save your parents. If I had known…”
“How could you have?”
“It’s a guilt I’ll carry with me forever.”
My lips turned down. “My dad wouldn’t want that.”
Setting the broom aside, he leaned against the counter. “He also wouldn’t have wanted his little girl in the clutches of his enemy. I should have done a better job finding you sooner.”
“You found me. That’s enough. You lost him too.” It felt so good to talk about my parents with someone who knew them, with someone who loved them. I hadn’t realized how much I needed this, not to forget about them.
Rusty swallowed before pushing off the counter. “Sit. I made some coffee. You’re probably starved.”
I sat curled up in the oversized chair, a knit blanket pulled around my legs as Rusty set a steaming mug of coffee on the side table beside me.
“Sorry, it’s not Starbucks,” he said, placing a box of doughnuts down next. “Best I could do on short notice. I’m not exactly Gordon Ramsay.”
I offered a small, flat smile. “It’s fine. Thank you.”
He hovered for a second longer, hands in his pockets like he wanted to say more but couldn’t find the words. Finally, he gave a nod and stepped back toward the kitchen.
The coffee smelled like burnt hazelnut, and the doughnuts were slightly stale, but none of that mattered. Nothing did because everything I thought I knew was a lie.
My fingers trembled as I wrapped them around the warm mug, trying to ground myself, find my bearings, but it didn’t work. I was still floating, untethered and raw.
Donovan hadn’t just altered my parents’ will; he’d orchestrated their deaths. For revenge. A long, meticulous plan that ended with them dead and him sitting like a king on a throne built from the ashes of my life, and I had nothing. No clothes. No room to call mine.
The blanket suddenly felt suffocating. I kicked it off and stood up too fast, the room tilting slightly as the pressure of it all bore down again.
Rusty turned from the sink. “Kaylor?”
“I don’t have a home.” My voice cracked. “I don’t have anything, Rusty. Not even a goddamn pair of socks to my name.”
He moved but kept a careful distance. “You have people who care about you. We’ll figure it out. You’re not alone.”
“But I am.” I choked out a tart laugh. “I don’t even know what to do next. My whole future just…collapsed. It’s hard to think about tomorrow when today is already unbearable.”
He nodded slowly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I know it’s bleak right now. I know it’s not what you need, but the cabin’s safe. It’s yours for as long as you want it. I’ll stock the kitchen later. And I’ll make some calls. Try to find someone, anyone who might help.”
I blinked back the tears forming again. I was so tired of crying. “You don’t have to fix this,” I murmured. “I’m not you’re burden.”
“You could never be a burden.” Rusty gave me a sad smile.
The coffee had gone cold, the doughnuts untouched.
There wasn’tmuch to do in the cabin. I contemplated going for a walk to clear my head, but I didn’t know anything about the area, and it would be just my luck I’d end up lost. Not to mention, the temps had dropped overnight to a bitter cold that took my breath away. It was an easy decision to stay cozied up in the chair, especially after Rusty started a fire.
I must have dozed off, because when I woke, the cabin seemed dimmer than before. Pushing the blanket off my legs, I listened, wondering where Rusty was. Silence greeted me. No footsteps. No low murmurs from another room. Even the fire had fizzled out, leaving nothing but ash in the burner. I swungmy legs to the floor, rubbing at my arms as a chill settled over me. Stepping cautiously into the kitchen, my stomach twisted when I looked out the window, seeing at least another inch of snow blanketing the ground, but more importantly, Rusty’s truck was gone.
No note. No explanation.
Okay, where the hell did he go? Nothing like dropping me off in the middle of nowhere and then dipping.
My stomach growled, reminding me I hadn’t eaten yet today.
Abandoning my seat at the table, I went on the hunt for fuel. At least Rusty hadn’t just dumped me here to fend for myself. I tried to imagine myself foraging in the woods for berries. It was laughable. I lacked actual survival skills. Unless there was a Black Friday sale at Prada, the only survival instincts I had were emotional trauma shit.
Since I didn’t have it in me to make anything complicated, I opted for the quickest option. I obviously could handle toast. Right? How hard could it be?
