8 Ford

Ford

I wasn’t sure what to think of the two-story rectangle farmhouse that came into view once we cleared the tree line.

It was… cute, if not a bit rundown. Maybe neglected was a better word for it. It was almost quaint the way the roof and ground around it were covered in snow. I hoped it had electricity, but then I remembered that I was stuck in a situation that didn’t give me the luxury of wishing and hoping for things like electricity and hot food.

The tires skidded as Austin brought the truck to a stop near what I assumed was a side door.

“This is it,” Austin said as he cut the engine.

He left the screwdriver stuck in the ignition, working as a key, and opened the door and hopped out. I rushed out of the truck and began gathering the things in the small back seat I didn’t even see the point of. The clothes we’d gotten at the thrift shop and the stuff he’d bought at the store a few towns back. Food, mostly. He came around and took a few bags from my hands with a hesitant smile.

As he opened the door with a key on his keyring, I couldn’t help but study him.

His posture was stiff. His tired eyes narrowed sharply. He stepped over the threshold, moving like someone who belonged here but also didn’t want to be here. His shoulders were tense, and it took all my will to keep my free hand by my side when I really wanted to give him some sort of comforting touch.

He walked through the mud room, and I followed closely behind. He flipped up light switches, making the house come alive with a dim glow. We ended up in a big open kitchen that was very fitting for the look of the outside. Very country chic. A smile played on my lips as my eyes moved to take everything in. A farm animal boarder ran around the room right in the middle of the wall. Everything from a stand mixer to ceramic canisters made for things like flour and sugar decorated the counters. There was also a large ceramic rooster that I could only assume was a cookie jar. The cabinets were light wood with round light gold knobs.

Practically abandoned property… yeah, sure.

Austin pulled open the fridge. I peeked over his shoulder, surprised to find it clean. It was empty except for a jar of pickles and a jar of green olives sitting on the door. He began putting up the groceries like it was a normal day.

“Are we going to talk about this place? Or just gloss over the fact that you know this house in the middle of the woods was here and that you have a key to get into said place?”

He snorted as he opened the freezer to shove some of the frozen groceries inside. I noticed a few stacks of packaged meat, but I couldn’t tell what they were. He took one out and set it on the counter. By the looks of it, I wondered if Austin was a hunter and if he’d killed the animal himself, broken it down or whatever you called it, and packaged it up like that. Or maybe it was someone he knew. Did he share this house with someone? Was it even his to use?

He clearly wasn’t in the mood to give me any answers, so I thought it was best to keep my mouth shut a little longer.

Whatever this place was, Austin needed a moment to come to grips with the fact that he was here. Which only made me more curious.

“I’ll show you to your room, then get a fire going,” he said, not giving me so much as a side-eyed glance as he walked past me.

I barely had a chance to take in the formal dining room with the large dark wood table. And we breezed through the cute living room that looked straight out of an old TV show. One couch was brown and tan plaid, while the other held the most chaotic pattern of huge roses and vines.

The stairs groaned as we climbed up. I gripped the white banister just in case the wood beneath my feet decided to give way. The stairs lead to a narrow hall, lined with doors on both sides. All of them closed, leaving the area feeling a bit eerie. What was behind those doors? Years of secrets? Decades of life? Maybe I didn’t want to know.

“You can take this one,” he said, his voice flat as he turned the knob of a door and pushed it open. “Mine’s across the hall.”

He didn’t look at me as he pointed to a door a couple of feet down the hall on the opposite side.

“There’s a bathroom next to my room. There are some clean towels in the closet, but they might need a fluff in the dryer to smell fresh. It’s been a few months since…” He cleared his throat. It was blatantly obvious this house didn’t sit abandoned like he wanted me to think, and I got the sense he was close to telling me so, but closed up at the last second. “Yeah, I’ll just take care of that now. You can take a shower if you want and I’ll bring them up when they’re done. Shouldn’t be more than fifteen minutes.”

He suddenly looked uncomfortable. I wanted to say something of comfort but was at a loss.

“Thanks. Sure, I’ll take a shower in a minute.” I set the bags of clothing on the bed and rushed to pull out the things he’d gotten for himself, quickly stuffing them all in one bag. “Here.” I thrust the bag at him awkwardly.

“Probably should wash this stuff too,” he said.

I cringed. Now that I thought about it, he was right. There was no telling if they had been washed by the previous owners, or how many people tried them on.

“If you’ll show me where the laundry room is, I can do it while you get the fire going.”

“Yeah, sounds good.”

I didn’t like how strained things were.

He ducked out of the room while I gathered up the rest of the clothing. As I stepped out, leaving the door open, I caught him coming out of the bathroom with a huge stack of towels. I had to smile at the array of colors. One pink. One Teal. One deep blue. It was all over the place, making me think that a cohesive theme for decor was the last thing on their mind.

Which led me to wonder who this person was. Whose house was this? Was it Austin’s? Was I getting a glimpse into Austin’s head just standing here looking at a stack of fucking towels?

It was clear I needed some sleep. I was worried I was losing it.

“What?” he asked as he stopped short right in front of me.

“It reminds me of my mom.” I tipped my head in the direction of the towels. “She cleaned houses for a living. When I was younger, she would take me with her when I wasn’t in school.” I shot him a look. “Day care was expensive and she was doing it all on her own. I loved it, though, because I got to see how all these other people decorated their houses. And by other, I mean rich. Well, richer than us.”

He leaned his shoulder against the wall and crossed one foot over the other as if relaxing to hear this story.

“Anyway, I noticed that most of those houses matched. Like the bathroom was blue and white tile, they’d have paintings that were mostly blue and white. Towels that were blue and white.”

Austin nodded, but his brow was furrowed like he couldn’t see where this was going.

“Our towels were always… colorful. Mom bought whatever ones were on sale when she got desperate enough to have to get new ones. Which meant that we ended up with whatever color they had at the time we went shopping. Or whatever color my mother was into that day.” I finished with a fond smile, even though thinking of her usually made me sad. It had been six years since I lost her to cancer, and I still wasn’t over it.

Austin barked out a laugh as he looked down at the towels in his hand.

“That’s me too. I don’t really pay attention to that stuff,” he said as he straightened and sauntered past me to the landing of the stairs.

Just like that, he shut down as soon as he realized he’d given me a little piece of himself. A tiny glimpse into Austin and his real connection to this place. It hadn’t been much, but that had still been too much for him.

I could have gloated. Could have pointed it out and urged him to keep talking about it. I could have hoped that he would give me more if I did.

However, I recognized a shutdown when I saw one. I wouldn’t be getting anywhere with him if I tried. Besides, I didn’t want this weird mood hanging between us, so I thought it was best to play along like I hadn’t noticed.

“There’s something fun in having a mishmash of stuff. It feels…” I started down the steps behind him as I tried to think of the right word.

“Like a party?” he said, looking over his shoulder at me for a second.

I choked out a laugh before I said, “Well, that wasn’t exactly what I was thinking. Maybe not that fun. But it does feel exciting. Unpredictable.”

“Yeah, predictable is boring,” he said with humor in his tone.

Before this happened to me, I would have saidI was predictable. The kind of person that showed up on time. Well, not on time, because I believed that if you were on time then you were late. So I was always early by at least ten minutes.

I ate oatmeal for breakfast nearly every day. I drank coffee and water. I filled my life with work and left myself little time for anything else. The suits I wore were all the same, in various colors that were basically different shades of the same color.

I suppose I was a bit boring. I couldn’t deny that.

“I bought them,” Austin admitted as he stepped off the stairs. He said it with almost a defeated sigh, which very obviously meant he was surrendering to the fact that he’d let me in and there was no sense in pretending otherwise. Or… maybe he wanted to open up to me. I kept my face passive, even though a smile was trying really hard to come out. “I never really thought about matching towels before. Growing up,” his shoulders tensed for a fraction of a second, “Mom would buy white ones. That was all we ever had. I guess you can call these my rebellion.”

I laughed. “That’s a bit of a sad rebellion.”

“Sad, but unexpected. No one can say my rebellious phase is boring.” He tossed me a cheesy smile over his shoulder as he pushed open the door in front of him, revealing a room barely big enough for the two of us and the washer and dryer that were already there. “Not top-of-the-line, but they get the job done. Need me to show you how they work? I’m sure a fancy super FBI agent such as yourself probably has one you can talk to at home.”

“Hardly,” I said with a snort as I caught his gaze.

“Right, you probably have someone who does your laundry for you.”

My expression dropped. Is that what he really thought of me?

Normally, I didn’t give two fucks about what someone thought of me, but with Austin, I felt the need for him to know the real me. To understand that I wasn’t like this image he had of me in his head for who knew how long. I wanted to prove to him that I was trustworthy, and could even be a friend if he’d let me in. Did his animosity toward me come from the fact that he assumed I thought I was above him?

“I know how to wash, dry, and even fold laundry,” I assured him like someone with something to prove. “It was one of my chores growing up, so while I might not be a fan of laundry, I do my own.”

“Look at that,” he said with a cocky smirk. “Fancy and can wash his own clothes. Look out,” he swiveled his head around in humor, “we got ourselves a real adult here, people.”

“Funny,” I mumbled before pushing open the lid of the washing machine.

“Make sure you load that washer evenly or it will knock somethin’ fierce.”

“Got it,” I clipped out, done with his asshole attitude that he hid behind jokes and humor.

“I’m gonna patch up my leg. Then I’ll get a fire going. Probably crash for a bit, and maybe see about making dinner after that,” he said, then turned to leave.

“Do you need some help?” I asked hesitantly. I didn’t mind helping him, but I wasn’t sure how he’d take the offer.

“Nah,” he took a step forward before stopping. Turning back to me he said, “Thanks for offerin’.”

His face showed how genuine he was being.

I simply nodded, too afraid to open my mouth and set him in the opposite direction. After a minute of silence slipped by, he left me to the washing without another word.

Alone in the small laundry room, I felt like I could finally breathe for the first time since I grabbed my go bag and fled my home. I forced my tense shoulders to relax and tried to stretch the coiled crick in my neck. I was used to stress with my job, but when it was my personal life, it was a completely different story. I wasn’t able to handle it as well and might be worried that I’d crack if I didn’t find something to put my focus on.

Like a plan.

Some way to get me out of this.

I wasn’t sure how much I should trust Austin. I didn’t think I should. It was clear that he was here because of Reed, he was keeping me safe because of Reed. If it were left up to him, I think he’d ditch me and head off in the opposite direction. I couldn’t blame him, but it also made this ball of sick energy bounce around in my stomach. I didn’t want to trap him into helping me, and it was bordering on that.