Page 6 of Comforted By The Mountain Man
The most beautiful sound pulls me from another nightmare. My body jerks, eyes open, and I battle distorted images fading into the face of an angel bent over me.
“Hey, baby,” I croak.
His big, boyish smile lights that innocent face. That missing bottom incisor tooth came out three weeks ago. He’s so proud of losing his first baby tooth.
“You okay, Mama?” Ryder tilts his head. “Here.” His Hulk plushy, which he never lets go of these days, lands on my chest. “Hulk hugs make everything better.”
The dregs of the nightmare fade, and I smile at my baby boy, who is growing up too damn fast. I give Hulk a big squeeze.
“You’re right. All better.” And that just made Ryder’s day.
He jumps up onto his feet, bouncing on what’s now my new queen-sized bed. Thankfully, the springs seem sturdy enough, but the musty smell tells me I’ll need to thrift shop for a new mattress.One day.When I find more money.
Everything hits me like a train. The last twenty-four hours. Glancing at the bedroom floor, it looks dry. The mess that the stupid broken pipe caused just added to my pile of problems that I have no idea how to solve.
Not wanting Ryder to discern my despair, I fake a smile, looking up at my oblivious son and ask, “You hungry?”
His eyes widen. “Yes!” His arms shoot in the air before giving me an almost heart attack, watching him leap off the bed.
“Ryder Antonio, be careful.” I sit up on instinct, ready to catch him. “Don’t leave the room without me,” I tell him firmly. “There’s a lot of water, and you could slip and hurt yourself.”
“Why is water everywhere?”
I sigh. “Long story, baby.” I take his hand and venture out to the damp wooden floor that I’m ignoring because I’m pretty sure this is how mold and wood rot happen.
“Floor feels funny.” Ryder digs his bare toes into the wood.
“Yup,” is all my brain can summon this early in the morning without coffee.
As it is, I think my neighbor—my shirtless, barrel-chested neighbor who saw and held my naked body—didn’t leave until two in the morning, insisting on helping me find any material capable of absorbing water to clean up the indoor monsoon that spewed from that freaking shower pipe.
Rubbing my temple, I reach the small kitchen where Ryder climbs on one of two bar stools at the kitchenette breakfast counter. That’s when I remember our breakfast options.
I check the canned goods left in the small closet in the corner. Hands on hips, I eye instant oatmeal packets that thankfully are at least maple flavored, and canned peaches. There’s Spam too, but I think I’ll leave that for lunch.
Ryder chatters on about the adventures of Hulk he dreamed about last night. My boy can have an entire one-way conversation, which suits my barely awake brain just fine. I nod and make noises of acknowledgment.
I turn the faucet and remember: No water.
Luckily, we stopped at a gas station right before Eden Ridge and got two cheap gallons of filtered water. But, that won’t last us long if I use that for everything from cooking, washing dishes, and bathing Ryder.
“One problem at a time,” I mumble to myself, finding a small pot and getting the oatmeal cooked because also, no microwave.
“Mama,” Ryder’s voice takes on a tone of wonder. “Who’s the big man?”
My insides turn to solid ice. This kitchen has no windows. Whoever Ryder sees must be at the front door. A decorative window takes up the top half.
Spinning, I’m out of sight from the front door. “Ryder, come here,” I demand.
His expression puckers between his brows. “Why?”
“Miss Martinez?” I hear.
My eyes close on an exhale. My neighbor. From last night. The one I’m still not convinced isn’t a threat. But, I don’t have any other options.
Ryder’s fixated on him as I inch to peek around the corner, just in case.
Yup. That’s the hulking mountain man who barged through my door at night, and I smacked with the only thing I could find as a weapon.
