5
JOANNA
"So you just... took him home," Leslie said.
"That's right."
I held my mug of coffee in both hands as I sat across from the police officer's desk. Leslie inhaled the steam from her mug and stared at a spot on the wall.
"Instead of bringing him here. Or to the clinic. Which, you know, would have been the right thing to do."
"I don't know. He was insistent I not bring him here."
"Okay," Leslie stretched the word out into five syllables. "And you didn't consider that this man may, in fact, try to harm you in your sleep?"
I gave Leslie a look. "I can take care of myself."
"You say that..."
"He seemed... harmless." I struggled for the words. I almost opened my mouth to tell her that he was an exact replica of the man on the cover of the book she'd given me, but I didn't want her thinking I was crazy. I'd wait for her to see him herself.
"I dunno," I finished, waving a hand. "But those are the facts. So am I in trouble?"
Leslie chewed that over while she uncrossed and re-crossed her legs. "Whelp. You were drinking..."
"Just two!" I interjected.
"...and you said he was in the middle of the road?" She waited for me to nod. "Now, I know there was a snow last night, but I don't reckon it was falling thick enough to obscure your view of the road. And that state highway is straight as an arrow. So my question to you is: how did you not see him?"
Because he was a beam of light. Because he appeared out of nowhere. Because maybe I'm hallucinating and losing my mind.
"I don't know," was all I said.
Leslie made a show of considering what to say. "Now, it's technically not a hit-and-run since you didn't, you know, run. But the law requires you report all accidents immediately."
"You know I don't have cell service out there..."
Leslie raised a finger and said, "And at your house? It's just us, Jo, so don't get defensive. I'm not gunna throw the book at you, especially since you did the right thing by stopping. But if this fella comes to his senses, you're probably liable for damages. It'd be up to a judge, at that point. Never know who's gunna sue you these days."
"See, that's the other thing," I cut in, leaning forward on the desk. "When I first hit him, and checked on him in the road? I could've sworn his arm was wounded. That the bone was sticking out of his skin. Later I could see all the blood, and a hole in his shirt, but nothing beyond that. Not even a scratch."
Leslie shrugged. "Sometimes happens. You remember the events of a traumatic event one way, when the truth is something else. Not unusual at all."
"Okay," I sighed. "So what should I do?"
"You need to tread carefully. We'll file an official report, since you're here, but we'll still need him to sign it." She blinked. "You just left him in your cabin?"
I just left him in my cabin. It seemed stupid in retrospect, but at the time it made perfect sense. He was sleeping so peacefully, thick chest rising and falling with calm breaths. Something pushed me out the door and into my truck before I could think of the consequences.
"If he decides to rob me blind, he won't find much of value there," I said.
Leslie looked like she wanted to protest more, but then shrugged it off. "Bring him in if you want. Or if he's still hesitant I can drive out there and take his statement myself. But after that..." She spread her hands. "You take in a stray, you're kinda responsible for making sure it gets back on its feet. Especially if he won't go to a hospital."
"Here's the thing," I said, thinking out loud. Pieces of logic were falling into place as I talked. "I never saw another vehicle, if his broke down. And there's nothing within ten miles of my property. How'd Eric even get out there?"
"Those," Leslie said with an emphatic pointer finger, "are all good questions you should have already asked him. But what do I know? I'm just an officer of the law..."
I filled out the proper forms, signing at the places Leslie instructed. I could feel the veil of security being wrapped around me as she signed the documents and filed them away. Plausible deniability. The Cover Your Ass procedure falling into place.
*
The General Store was busier than usual; four simultaneously customers was practically the Elijah equivalent of Black Friday. But the two fellas talking with Andy at the counter were strangers, and gave off an aura of being out of place.
"...told you," Andy was saying. "Never heard anything."
"Nothing in the sky?" one stranger insisted. "A streak of light? Like a shooting star, but closer?"
Even though I was two aisles away, I could hear the frown in Andy's voice. "Again. I told ya. I didn't see nothin' like that."
I slid around the end of the aisle to get a view of the front of the store. The two strangers looked at one-another like they were making an unspoken decision.
"Whatever you say, pal."
"Thanks your yer cooperation," the other man said. And with that they strode out the door.
Unable to hold back my curiosity, I headed toward the counter. Andy was shaking his head in annoyance or disbelief or something else as he watched them walk across the snow-plowed parking lot.
"Idiots," he muttered. "First the ghosts in my barn, and now this..."
Realization hit me. "The Jones boys? Who own that junkyard?" The two brothers lived on the far side of town, misfits who ran a junkyard and were always snooping around for one reason or another. Conspiracy nuts always giving Leslie trouble by insisting the FBI or NSA or any other 3-letter organization was spying on their brainwaves. That sort of stupid shit.
"Max and Liam," Andy confirmed. "Dunno what they expected me to say."
"Streak of light in the sky?" I snorted, remembering what Leslie had said the night before about satellites crashing. "Don't they know we had cloud cover and snow all last night?"
"You didn't hear me try to tell 'em?" Andy said. "Dunno what they're after, but I don't got it for 'em."
I watched them pile into their tow truck, back out, and drive away. I turned my smile on Andy and said, "Got any of that ground bison?"
*
The drive back to my property held an ominous foreboding. Like I was returning to a problem I'd been trying to ignore.
Was that what Eric was?
I still wasn't sure why I brought him home last night. And that morning when I was preparing to leave, even though he'd been sleeping, something had kept me from waking him. It was like a force field was pushing me away from his couch, urging me out the door.
I wasn't the kind of girl to get flustered over a good looking boy. It was unnerving.
Maybe it was the dreams I'd had. Eric's body crawling on top of mine, pinning my arms on either side with easy strength. Face leaning close to mine to breathe my breath, then moving down my breasts and along the navel, the prickles of his thin beard scratching my hip bones and then my pubic hair and then...
I shook off the thought and focused on the road. Fantasizing about that sort of thing was how I'd hit him in the first place.
Strangeness aside, there was something alluring about having a young hunk sleeping on my couch. I knew I still looked good--working outdoors with miles of daily walking certainly helped--but I had never tried dating after Fred. Never really had the desire.
But this guy...
I pulled up to my house and carried the first sack of supplies inside.
Eric lay on his back on the couch, hands behind his head and staring straight at the ceiling. The blanket was down around his waist, failing to hide the V-shape of his pelvis.
"Uhh," I said, tongue feeling heavy in my mouth. In that position I could see the lines of his muscles, every ripple and crease of his obliques and abs. Good fucking lord he looked good. I felt a deer go prancing off in my stomach.
"Hello," Eric said. "How are you?"
I carried the bag to the kitchen without answering. He sounded more normal, now. Like there was a light on in the attic instead of just a candle. Facing away from him, I said, "I'm fantastic. How ya feeling?"
I turned around.
Eric had risen from the couch, and he wore no pants. His body was a perfect statue of a man, something photoshopped instead of actually real. His thighs were thick with muscle, and his cock hung heavy and soft.
Oh my God, I thought, eyes locking onto it as if by a magnet.
I heard Leslie's words in my head: you just left him there in your cabin? The unspoken threat of a strange man forced its way into my immediate concern, the stupidity of doing something like that.
"I feel very well," Eric said casually. "Thank you for your help last night."
He made no move toward me. He just stood there, innocent and weird. Thankfully that made the situation more embarrassing than threatening. I crossed my arms over my breasts and tried to appear nonchalant.
"You can put on some clothes, you know."
Eric looked down at himself with confusion. "Oh."
"Oh indeed. Though I can see you're not cold."
The moment the joke was out of my mouth I cringed. Complimenting this stranger on his dick size like we were at some bar, where cheesy pickup lines were the norm. But Eric only blinked.
"I am quite warm indeed. However, my clothes were not satisfactorily clean. Once I had taken a shower--" the word sounded strange on his tongue, "--I did not wish to return them to me. They are presently being laundered."
That's when I realized my washer was rumbling on the other side of the cabin. "Well, I think I've got some old clothes lying around here somewhere. Let me fetch 'em and you can help bring in supplies."
I went to my bedroom more to retreat from his overwhelmingly masculine presence than to actually get him clothes, the blush on my face deepening with each second.