(Present)

I feel his hand on my leg, gently shaking me awake. I open my eyes; I’ve always loved having him be the first person I see. “We’re here,” he says, turning into a long winding dirt road driveway. We are standing in front of a two-story contemporary farmhouse. I try to figure out exactly where we are but night has fallen and it’s hard to see the road signs.

“We’re in Keene Valley. It’s a small town just outside of Essex, New York,” he says as he gets the duffle bag from the back seat.

“There’s nothing out here,” I reply as I look around the vast forest and mountain range.

“That’s the point,” he says.

“Yeah, I guess it makes sense.”

“Given that there’s a leak, I didn’t want the paperwork that comes with securing an official safe house. This is more of a hideout.”

“Safe house or hideout; they both sound like the places where the final gun battle happens.”

“Not if I can help it. This won’t be a daring adventure, okay? We’ll hole up in this area for a few days and then get you back into the city. If anything you’ll mostly likely be bored to death.”

“I’m sure we’ll find a way to entertain ourselves,” I joke.

“The couple you’re going to meet are Mr. and Mrs. Perry. They are really nice folks that Banshee helped out a few years back. He gave them new identities when things got crazy for them in Chicago. They are perfect for what we need—they don’t ask questions and live a fairly quiet life. They aren’t connected to you or me.”

“What are they running from?” I ask.

“Don’t know, don’t care. The point is, Banshee trusts them—as much as anyone can be trusted. Banshee has used them before and they are reliable. They have another house a few miles down the road and that’s where we’ll be staying. We’re just here to get the keys,” he says as we make our way to the front porch.

“So you trust them?”

“Yeah.”

“Then why is your hand on your gun?” I ask.

“That’s a sign of trust in my line of work.”

“Okay, and if you didn’t trust them, where would your gun be then?” I joke.

“In their mouths,” he says, only partly joking.

We knock and a man opens the door. His steel-grey eyes are suspicious and scan us carefully. I think he’s somewhere in his late sixties. His wife stands behind him, her salt-and-pepper hair in a loose bun; she has dark brown eyes and a friendly smile.

“Who the hell are you?” the man says.

“Honey, you don’t have to be so rude,” his wife says. “These are Banshee’s friends.”

“How do we know?” he asks.

“Look at them, they look tired and stressed out, that’s a clear sign that they know Banshee,” she teases.

I can’t help but laugh. “You know our friend well,” I reply. While his wife and I talk, Logan and the husband size each other up. The wife and I exchange bemused glances and she tells me to ignore the men and come on in.

“You can put down the shotgun, Henry, for goodness’ sake,” she says.

“And you can do the same, Logan,” I scold. Both men exchange looks that basically imply that we women are a handful. But ironically that silent exchange gets them both to relax. We enter the home and are greeted with the scent of warm apple pie and coffee.

“Banshee told us you were coming, please have a seat,” the woman says. “Oh, where are my manners? I’m Helen. And that’s my husband, Henry.” We shake hands and Logan scouts out the house.

“Thank you for letting us stay in your home, all we need now is the key. Where would that be?” Logan says. I glare at him for being rude. “What?” he says.

Helen smiles and places her hand on mine. “Honey, you know how they can be. Henry, these two have traveled a long way I’m guessing. Go on get them some pie and coffee—don’t worry, it’s decaffeinated, you won’t be up all night,” she promises.

“No, we don’t want to put you out,” I reply.

“Nonsense. Banshee saved our lives. If he says you two are to be cared for and looked after that’s exactly what we are going to do,” she says as she enters the kitchen.

“What are you carrying?” Henry asks Logan, gesturing towards his gun. The two men begin to talk about weapons and I swear their faces light up. When Helen comes back in, she’s carrying two plates with pie and tells her husband to go and get the coffee.

“Listen, you all have been really nice but it’s been a long day and—” Logan is interrupted by the person that just entered the room.

“Oh my gosh, and who are you?” I ask the toddler with big curly red hair and green eyes. His chubby cheeks and excited eyes make him too adorable for words. Helen goes over and picks him up in her arms. “This is Frankie, my grandson, and he should be asleep. Isn’t that right?” she asks. He nods his head but from his big bright eyes it’s clear that he has no intention of going to sleep.

“How old is he?” I wonder.

“He’s almost three. He’s a big boy, right, Frankie?” Helen says, looking at the toddler in her arms.

“Big, big boy! Nana, voom!” he says, roaring at her.

“No ‘voom’ right now,” she replies.

“Voom!” he begs.

“He loves cars or anything that moves. He’s got this little toy car out back, spends all day on it,” Henry explains.

“I take it that’s what ‘voom’ means?” I ask.

“Yes and it’s too late for voom. Now go back in your room and if you get under the covers, I’ll read you a story,” she says as she places him down on the floor.

“Okay, after sleep, then voom?” he says as his feet touch the floor.

“Yes, when you wake up you can go,” Helen says in a warm but firm tone. But before he goes, he takes one last look at Logan, the way a child would look at a redwood tree. The look of awe at Logan’s height is unmistakable. His grandfather calls him, and in a tone that leaves no room for argument, he says, “Go to bed, Frankie.” Frankie wisely runs off.

“Banshee didn’t tell us you had kids in the house,” Logan says disapprovingly.

“My daughter dropped him by a few hours ago. She got called into work unexpectedly.”

“We really should go,” Logan says.

“Ah yes, the keys,” Helen says as she gestures for Henry to go retrieve them. “Oh and get them something to wrap that pie in so they can have it to go. And place the coffee in a thermos,” she says. Henry goes into the kitchen and does as his wife orders. We take the key and the food.

“Thank you so much,” I say.

“We made you a map, one of the reasons the guest house works is that it’s damn near impossible to find,” Henry says as he hands Logan a hand drawn map.

“Thanks, also as far as anyone is concerned—” Logan is cut off by Henry.

“This here ain’t our first time, son. No one comes here. No one asks questions. And we leave you all alone, so if someone knocks, shoot.”

“I like him,” Logan mutters as he walks down the steps.

“Yeah, you would,” I tease as we get back in the car.

“I don’t like that there’s a kid here,” he says as he starts the car.

“No one knows we’re here, so it won’t matter and he’s so damn cute! Did you see the way he kept looking at you?”

“Safe house with a kid, not a great idea.”

“Maybe not but can we talk it over in the morning?” I beg.

He looks me over. “Exhausted?” he asks.

“No, mostly just bored. I mean nothing exciting happened today,” I tease. He smiles and we pull into the backwoods and follow the path on the map. Henry was right; the farmhouse is easy to miss. The path that leads to the house looks closed from the road. If you don’t know it’s there, you’ll drive right by it.

The house is a modest yet well-kept single-family farmhouse. It’s surrounded by acres of forest. There’s a lake and a hiking trail nearby. Logan parks the car behind the shed and takes our things inside.

“Wow, it’s so peaceful out here. It reminds me of our cabin,” I remark as he puts the key in the lock.

“I was about to say the same thing. I had Banshee set up cameras and alarms through the area; I’ll get them up and running. You should get some sleep,” he says as he turns the light on. This place is a toned-down version of Logan’s cabin. It’s more rustic and lacks the modern amenities. But it has working lights, a house phone, and is full of charm.

I’m tired but so is Logan, and it’s not fair to let him do all the work. So he tells me what to do in order to get the security system in check and I do it. Banshee already did the hard work; all we had to do was make sure it was working.

“Okay, we’re all set,” he says. We have cameras on the forest and the pathway up to the house and also motion sensors that will let us know if anyone is within one hundred yards. Logan warns that the alarm might go off due to the animals that roam around here.

“If it gets to be too crazy, we can turn it off—in the daytime,” he offers.

“Sounds good,” I reply. Soon we are showered and ready for bed. But the question looms over our heads: do we sleep together, and if so, do we actually sleep?

“I’m getting into this bed with you, you good with that?” he asks.

“Yeah, I am but…we’re just gonna sleep, okay?”

He smiles and nods slightly. “Should I be offended?”

“No, it’s just that…you hesitated back at your mom’s place and I get why, I really do. But I don’t want to be just another woman you…hook up with.” There, I said it.

“You could never be ‘just’ another woman to me,” he says, hurt.

“I didn’t mean that you don’t care, I meant…” I can’t find a way to finish my thought without digging myself into a deeper hole. God, if Logan and I were the last two people on Earth, the human race might die out. We just can’t seem to get it right.

“Hey, I know what you meant. You don’t have to go into ‘deep reflection’ mode. We’re good, Shay.”

“I don’t have a ‘reflection mode,’” I counter. He laughs. “Wait, do I?” I ask.

“You bite your lower lip, then look up and to the right. That’s why you always lose at poker. You go into that mode and I know you have bad cards and you’re reflecting on how you’re going to try and bluff,” he says.

“Really? I just thought I was a bad poker player,” I reply mostly to myself.

“Well, you kind of are,” he teases. “Now, get in this bed with me,” he says as he peels back the stark white sheets. God, everything in me wants to be in his arms right now. I want to feel his warmth around me, I want to inhale his masculine scent and feel his powerful arms around me.

“Shay, you don’t have to look so torn. This isn’t the night for that. And as much as I want you—and I can’t remember a time when I wanted anything more—we are capable of just lying together. Now, get your ass over here so we can get some sleep.” I smile despite myself. I turn off the lights and get into bed alongside the man I’ve been thinking about for two years.

We lie on our side and face each other. The glow of the digital clock provides a small amount of light as we look into each other’s eyes. He places his hand on the side of my face and glides his thumb across my cheek. His eyes grow dark with sadness. “I’m sorry, Anika.”

“For what?”

“For not loving you the way you deserved to be loved.”

“Logan, you have always been good to me.”

“Since I found out the real reason about why we broke up I’ve been blaming you, but the truth is, I’m not the easiest guy to talk to.”

“No, I always felt like I could tell you stuff but this was different. It’s cancer. It’s not easy to tell anyone,” I assure him.

“Maybe, but the fact is, I missed signs that something was on your mind. And I fly off the handle when I should try and be more understanding. I talked to your mom and she pointed out that you don’t like needing help because you think it makes you weak. I should have picked up on that. I should have known that the girl who had to be a parent to her own parent would have trouble letting anyone in or asking for help.”

“My mom told you that? She shouldn’t have said…”

“I’m glad she did. I like that I know more about you now. And I’m sorry I didn’t see how much the past was haunting you. And if we get a chance to fix us, I want you to know that I will do everything I can to love you better…”

***

Logan (Present)

Last night she fell asleep in my arms. Best. Fucking. Feeling. Ever. I wake up and she’s still got her head on my chest. Jesus, she’s beautiful. I’d love to stay here all fucking day but I have too much to do.

I double-check the property and make sure there’s no way someone could get in without us knowing. I then check in with Wyatt to see if they’ve found the leak yet. So far, they have no idea who’s working for Malone. I sign off with him before he can get on me about the shoot-out in the mall.

I haven’t fed my woman and I’m sure she’s starving by now. I’m not a fan of leaving the safe house, so my plan is for us to get something to go and then head back here. So imagine my surprise when I enter the house and find her in the kitchen cooking. And what’s even more shocking is that the food smells like…food.

“What’s happening right now?” I ask as I enter the kitchen.

“I made Denver omelets, biscuits, and bacon. And I think they will actually taste like those things.” She laughs as she hands me my plate. “Also there’s coffee and OJ,” She adds. I narrow my eyes and think very hard. “What is it, Logan?”

“I’m just wondering if my affairs are in order. In case your cooking kills me,” I joke. She playfully shoves me. She then picks up the fork and cuts into the omelet. She feeds it to me. Oh shit.

“Shay, that’s really good.”

“Thanks,” she says as if it was nothing.

“Okay, you need to explain yourself, woman!” I say as I sit at the dinner table and begin to devour the best breakfast I’ve had in a long time.

“Kat had a great idea a few years back. She wanted the women in the center to have a connection to each other that didn’t have to do with the pain of their home lives. So every month we’d have them take a different class, kind of a bonding thing.”

“And you guys took a cooking class?” I ask between bites.

“It was supposed to be only a month-long class but I kept going back. I actually liked cooking; I think I stayed away from it because it was something my stepdad forced on my mom. But it turns out when you’re not cooking for a sadistic asshole, cooking isn’t so bad.”

“And where did you get all this food?”

“Banshee helped me out. He asked what I wanted him to have stocked in the fridge and I gave him a list.”

“You did a great fucking job, baby!”

“Well thank you but don’t think this means that I’ll be cooking for you every day—I didn’t mean that we’d be together every day…I meant...” I watch her get all flustered as she tries to explain herself.

“I know what you meant. Hey, the food is amazing, thank you. And now that you have cooked for me, I fully expect you to cook my meals for the rest of your life. In fact, quit your job and just stay in the kitchen. No need for you to leave the house ever again,” I tease as I reach over and pull her into my lap.

“I knew this would happen once my hidden talents were revealed,” she quips.

“So what other classes did you guys take?” I ask, not willing to let her go yet.

“We took a class called ‘learning to love your engine.’”

I can’t help but laugh at her because she said it with such pride. “And now you love your engine?” I ask.

“No, but I don’t hate it. And I now know the basics and it helps because sometimes when I take my car in, I run into mechanics that are real jerks. They hike up the price because they figure I’m a woman and don’t know what I’m talking about. Okay, most of the time I don’t know but still what a dick thing to do. I had to take one of the guys at work with me just so they’d give me a fair price.”

“What guy?” I ask far too late to sound casual. The thought of her being helped by another guy doesn’t sit well with me. Yeah, I know. That shit is childish but I don’t care. She’s my woman and I should be there to look out for her.

“His name is Josh. He used to work at the center.”

“Okay and what’s his story?” I reply, trying to sound casual this time.

She sees right though me, and she smiles and leans in closer. “He’s a nice guy. And that was months ago, he’s moved back to Idaho to marry his high school sweetheart.”

“Good. You won’t need him now anyway. I’ll go with you next time. In fact, how often you are going to a mechanic? We may need to get you a new car,” I reply.

“I’ve missed you,” she whispers in a tender voice that makes my chest ache. I want her so much, it takes everything I have not to pick her up and take her inside the bedroom. She glides her fingers across my lips and it’s the most erotic fucking thing I’ve ever felt.

It’s not just having her touch my mouth; it’s the way she’s looking at me. In this moment I am her man again. I belong to her. I’m okay with that because she’s been mine since I first saw her. She leans in to kiss me but I stop her, stand her up, and take out my gun.

“Shay, someone’s here…”