Page 39 of Hiding for the Holidays
I jump into action as if I’d forgotten why I’m standing here. My cheek is prickling where he kissed me. Would it be weird to never wash it again?
Yeah, yeah. That’s gross.But maybe it could wait untiltomorrow…
I unlock my door and shove my chair under the handle. I carefully line my boots up beside the door and place my gloves in my jacket. I don’t bother bringing a bag to work anymore since they always provide lunch for me. All I have to carry around are my phone and wallet, and those fit in my pocket.
I check the bag I left on my desk and find my real ID and bank card still safely stowed away.
Wanting to feel comfortable, I unhook my bra and pull it off, leaving me in my yoga pants and Iron Oaks t-shirt. It’s definitely too tight for me to go braless in public, but in the privacy of my room, it feels nice and freeing. I shove my bra into my bag along with my few other clothing items: socks, underwear, an extra bra, a couple of t-shirts and my pair of jeans.
There’s no dresser or closet in this room to keep my clothes in, plus I enjoyed having my bag ready to go. Just in case Scott showed up, and I had to make a run for it.
But as the days wear on, I’m starting to hope that he’s given up looking for me. I wonder how I can find out? I don’t have anyone I trust enough back in Parker Heights to check on him. The guys are ex-military; maybe they’d know a way to find out.
Of course, that would mean telling them the truth, that I’d been lying about my name. I hate the idea of continually lying to them, but it’s not like I was lying about anything else. Everything else I told them was true.
I lay down on my bed with my cellphone. These guys had done too much for me. I wish I could repay them somehow. I know they appreciate what I’m doing for their business, but they’re paying me for that. Christmas is approaching soon, I have to think of something I can do for them to show them my appreciation for everything they’ve done for me.
I check for messages and see I have none. I’m not surprised. I normally send a goodnight group message around nine or ten, to which they all reply, and that’s all the texting we do.
Is it weird that I want to message them more? My fingers twitch to ask Leo what movie he’s going to watch tonight, or ask Grant if he’s trying a new recipe, since I know he loves to cook. Maybe Asher will work on his bike? Or they might all play a video game together.
My stomach grumbles, and I groan, realizing I don’t have any food left. I’ve been eating plain ham sandwiches for dinner every day since I arrived, and now I have a little bit of money, I can’t stomach the idea of it.
I stand and pull my work tee off, put my bra back on along with a fresh shirt and hoodie, then grab my wallet and get dressed to go outside.
It takes me twenty minutes to get to the supermarket, but it’s the first time I haven’t almost frozen to death getting here. I decide to stay in the bakery and fresh meat section as I have no means to cook anything. No matter how I look at my options, everything just looks like different versions of my sad ham sandwich. I could switch up the meat and bread; I could even spring for mayo, but nothing I see appeals to me.
I see a container of fresh carrot muffins that gives me pause. I mean it’s definitely not the most well-balanced meal, but the more I stare at them, the more I start to crave them. They are calorie dense and filling. These four could feed me for two dinners and two breakfasts.
Mind made up, I grab the best-looking batch and head to the cash register. As I hand over the cash and wait for my change, I feel a prickle of unease on the back of my neck. I glance around, but nobody seems to be paying me any attention.
I think it’s just the nerves of being out after dark. This time of year means shorter sunlight and that means anything I want to do after work, will be in the dark.
I shove my change in my pocket, grab my tray of muffins and quickly head back home.
A shiver rolls down my spine as I walk as fast as I can without actually jogging. It’s darker than it was when I got here, and now I’m really wishing I'd just asked Asher to make a stop here on the way home. I know he wouldn’t have minded, but I feel bad making him go even further out of his way. I’m sure he had things he wanted to do tonight than drive me around.
I keep checking over my shoulder, but this area seems quiet and I can’t see anybody behind me. Anxiety plagues me as I continually scan my surroundings, whispering to myself, “If someone comes at me, drop the muffins, raise my arms in defense, kick him in the nuts, punch him in the throat.”
By the time I make it back to my building, my entire body is on edge. There’s a few guys hanging outside my building, smoking what I assume are just cigarettes.
“Hey girly, what’cha got there?” One of them asks, eyeing my muffins as I pass him.
“My dinner,” I reply quickly. I keep a straight face as I head for the door.
“You’re not gonna share with us?” his friend calls after me, but I just ignore them and rip the door open so hard it bangs against the brick wall.
I don’t hear footsteps following me, but that doesn’t slow me down as I practically run down the hall and shove my key in the lock. There’s a few people hanging around in the hall, and my hand is shaking so much from nerves, it takes me three tries to get it in properly, only worsening my fear.
When I finally get in, I slam in shut, lock it, and shove the chair under the handle. I take a few steps back, staring at my door as I breathe heavily.
“You’re okay, Rosalie… You’re okay.” I manage to calm myself enough to remove my snow gear and grab a muffin before sitting on my mattress.
I nibble on it slowly as I strain my ears to listen to what’s going on outside my four walls. The building seems rowdier than usual tonight. There’s several people shouting, and doors keep getting slammed.
When I finish my muffin, I decide to try to sleep, so I change into clean panties and an oversized t-shirt I bought to sleep in. It’s from the secondhand store, but it works.
In my hometown, Parker Heights, I’d been to the secondhand store a few times. You’d often find a great deal there, some expensive brand name item at a fraction of the cost and probably never worn. That wasn’t the case in Silent Pines, though. Everything was well-worn and probably originated from Walmart or Temu. There also wasn’t that much selection in my size. It meant I didn’t have many options.
