Traveler lived on the very edge of town, in an area slightly less rough than where her shop was located, but not by much.

The corner lot duplex was enclosed by a crooked chainlink fence with multipleNo trespassingandBeware of dogsigns.

At my raised brow, Traveler shook her head.

“Ethan, my neighbor, he has a dog. It’s a half-blind, overweight Shih Tzu, but he has a dog,” she explained. “You have to park on the street,” she told me, pointing toward the road along the side of the property.

The house itself was in better shape than most on the street, likely thanks to the fact that it was made from red brick that didn’t require much maintenance. But the yard was mown and the flowerbeds were weeded and full of various flowers and bushes I wouldn’t pretend to know the names of. Even though my Ma was a pretty avid gardener, and I probably should have known that shit.

There was a large front porch to each side of the steps. One set up with two old wooden rockers, likely belonging to the old man Ethan. The other had a newer-looking swing with colorful cushions, a bunch of plants, strings of fairy lights, and several different hummingbird feeders.

It had Traveler written all over it.

“Got a thing for hummingbirds, huh?” I asked as we all made our way up the front steps.

“I try to feed all the pollinators. Hence the flower beds. There’s more out back too. All native flowers.”

“Of course,” I agreed.

“What?” she asked, giving me small eyes again.

“Nothing. Just… that makes sense for who you are.”

“Someone who cares about the planet?” she asked, turning fully to face me, arms crossing.

“Alright, kids,” Aurelio said, coming up behind us. “Let’s keep shit civil.”

Traveler rolled her eyes at me, but said nothing as she turned and made her way up the steps, pausing to unlock her door, then moving inside.

I was expecting it to be similar to her shop.

I wasn’t wrong.

We moved into the living room featuring a brown couch across from a big brick fireplace with small plants placed across the mantle and much larger ones in pots near the windows.

There were several canvases on the walls, and if I knew anything about Traveler, they were all from local artists, not something you could buy in a store somewhere.

“Everything looks alright,” she said as she walked through the living room and into the kitchen.

Everything was narrow, what with it being one house split in two, but the kitchen was a good size with white cabinets and appliances and a stand full of what looked like potted herbs in front of another window.

She didn’t have a dining table, choosing instead to utilize that space with a rolling island pushed against the wall for more prep space, and an old armoire she’d taken apart and painted a light sage color.

“Well, that’s just inviting trouble,” she mumbled to herself as she turned away from the kitchen and moved into a small bedroom dominated by a bed that couldn’t be bigger than a full and covered in a bright patchwork quilt in green and yellow.

It was the only room without plants. There wasn’t room. Even though there were big windows, one of which she was slamming closed and locking.

“Nothing looks out of place?” I asked as she looked around.

“No,” she said, moving toward her nightstand to pull open a drawer. “Even my laptop is here,” she said as she placed it on the bed with the charger, already starting to gather up the important things to bring with her. “And this is an expensive one,” she added, going into her closet to grab a suitcase. “How much should I be packing?” she asked, glancing back at me.

That was a good question.

I didn’t have a satisfactory answer to it.

“Pack for five days and nights, just in case,” I said before she could object.

She didn’t seem as though she was going to, though. If anything, she seemed oddly numb as she started grabbing yoga pants, shorts, and tees. She packed her laptop on top of those before moving near me to open her dresser, pulling out PJs, then socks, before getting to her underwear drawer. Which was full of fancy, tempting shit like I knew she had on under her jeans.