Candace

The smell of the barn would be offensive to most, but to me, it was heaven. The hay, the mustiness, and even the manure all smelled of freedom to me. I slid a bowl of milk onto the barn floor, calling for the kittens as the metal clanked against the planks wood. They all ran toward me, greeting me with quick brushes against my leg with their soft fur.

I sat down, letting the little fur balls climb upon my leg, scratch at my arms, and make their way to my neck where their purrs were easily heard.

“You look like you’re enjoying yourself,” a voice said. I turned to find Lyla standing at the barn door.

She walked in as I smiled in her direction. Her demeanor was slow, careful, and cautious, as if she was afraid of spooking me away.

“I missed them,” I admitted, running my fingers through the mother cat’s fur.

“I heard the good news,” she said softly, taking a spot on a bale of hay near me.

I wasn’t sure how she heard or what exactly she knew. It was embarrassing still, even with the charges dropped, the police no longer looking for me, and my name cleared of any wrongdoing. It was still wrong. I knew it was. I wanted Damien dead. I would’ve done anything to be free. I didn’t quite understand the self-defense case they built, but I was grateful for it.

“So what’s the plan now?” Lyla asked so casually, like I had so many options.

“Stay here, I guess. Jackson said I could care for the animals,” I replied.

Lyla didn’t reply. Her lips tightened as they formed a forced smile, and she nodded in my direction.

“Stay here and go through the program so you can heal?” she questioned.

I shrugged my shoulders.

“It’s a great program,” she continued.

It was growing clear to me that she wasn’t there to participate in the program, but rather to oversee it: a doctor, a shrink of some sort.

“Luke’s said nothing but great things about it,” I smiled.

“About Luke, do you intend on staying at his place?” Lyla asked.

Her judgment was under breath, but still obvious as she spoke.

“I think so,” I replied.

“Do you think Luke’s couch is really the best place for you?” she questioned.

I continued playing with the kittens, avoiding looking up and into her eyes.

“He wants me to stay,” I said softly, still refusing eye contact.

“I’m sure he does. But what do you want?” she asked.

That was a question never asked, at least not to me. What did I want?

I shrugged.

My life had been dictated to me since I was a child. I didn’t want to leave home, but I wasn’t given a choice. I didn’t want to live in a foster home, but I was sent anyways without being asked if I minded living in a strange home. I didn’t want to leave Luke, but our foster dad gave me little choice. I didn’t want to be held down, forced to have sex with a man who should’ve been taking care of me, but I was given no other option. I didn’t want to be with Damien, be treated the way I was for so many years, but he was the only one in my world, the only one willing to protect me from others. As far as I could see, the world had evils, and it was easier to stay with the ones more familiar, rather than venture out to new, unexplored ones.

“Luke’s good to me. He makes me feel safe,” I blurted.

“That’s great. You must feel safe,” Lyla stated as if she agreed with and understood my decision to stay.

“Sometimes, it’s easy to give in, to do what’s easy, worrying about what others want. I just want to make sure you’re doing what you want,” Lyla added.

“I’m not sure what I want, other than to feel safe,” I admitted.

“Do you have feelings for Luke?” Lyla asked.

“I don’t know,” I answered without pause.

I didn’t know. I hadn’t had time to think about Luke much with my mind consumed with anxiety and fear about Damien, the police, and my future.

“You may need some time to yourself to heal. Otherwise, it’s very difficult to know what you truly want for yourself,” Lyla smiled warmly.

“Maybe,” I agreed, more than anything, just to make her stop pushing.

My heart was already racing, beating hard against my chest. My palms were starting to sweat, causing the kitten’s fur to stick to my flesh as I petted them gently on the back. I couldn’t think about leaving, about being alone.

“You could always stay with me, or even get a place of your own if one opens up here,” Lyla suggested.

I looked up, curious about what she’d just said. I could stay, but on my own?

“It’s something to think about,” Lyla added, standing from her hay bale, and smiling as she turned to walk away.

Luke had saved me from my life, helped me avoid prison, and worse, going back to Damien. I hated to think about how he’d feel if I just up and left. I was grateful for what he’d done. He didn’t have to do any of it. The last thing I wanted to do was hurt him.

I watched the kittens as they finished their milk, wondering if it were more hurtful to Luke to leave or to stay if that’s not what I truly wanted.

I said my goodbyes to the kittens, leaving another bowl of milk for the poor mother who’d been nursed nearly dry.

Luke was whistling in the kitchen, stirring a pot of chili on the stove. He was happy.

“You’re back,” he said cheerfully as I walked into the room.

I smiled, leaning against the door frame watching him in his amazing mood. I loved seeing him so happy.

“Yes. Lyla stopped by,” I hinted, trying to find a reaction, but got nothing.

“You hungry?” Luke asked, offering up a wide smile as he turned in my direction holding a wooden spoon.

“I am,” I replied, moving towards the sink to wash my hands.

The soap was in a bottle, foamy, not like the bar he’d originally had on the sink. I rubbed my hands together, smelling the sweet scent of strawberry and melon as the lather worked through my fingers. I knew he’d bought this for me. It wasn’t man soap. He was changing his entire life for me. He was supposed to be here to get help for himself, to help others, not to spend all his attention on me.

“Cornbread?” Luke asked, setting an already filled bowl of chili on the table.

I nodded.

I sat down at the table, noticing all the extras he’d set out: oyster crackers, sour cream, chives, chopped red onion, and shredded cheese.

“You should’ve let me make dinner tonight. You’ve done so much for me already,” I stated.

He rolled his eyes playfully in my direction, his squared chin offering a chiseled manly look that made my heart melt. He really had grown into a beautiful man.

“I enjoy taking care of you,” he smiled sweetly, taking his seat across from me.

That comment stuck in my heart like a knife. Damien used to say he was taking care of me, a job that no one else wanted, a job I couldn’t do on my own.

I believed him. Why wouldn’t I? There wasn’t exactly a line outside his door of candidates for the position of my caretaker, and my past had proven taking care of myself wasn’t my strong suit.

I’d left the foster home with nothing, just the clothes on my back and fourteen dollars I’d managed to save from cashed-in bottles and cans. Within two days, I was hungry, cold, and hitchhiking on the highway to get away from this horrid place.

Damien had stopped for me. He seemed nice, charming even.

“You look wet,” he chuckled as he pushed open the door to his beat-up Camaro.

There was something about him, a strangeness, eagerness, anger, but I shrugged it off, climbing into his dry car out of the wet rain regardless. It was stupid. Right there on that highway, I proved I couldn’t take care of myself.

We never made it past the first exit. Damien had excuse after excuse about why he needed to delay taking me out of town, where I was headed when he stopped to pick me up on the side of the road.

First, it was sweet, tending to needs he noticed in me: wet, tired, and hungry. He bought me a burger, an order of fries, and a large Pepsi from the local burger joint. After that, it was more about him. He had to stop here and there, and before long, I’d been in that car with him for over two hours, driving in circles.

“We should probably wait until morning,” Damien stated.

“I really need to be going. I can get another ride if you just drop me back on the interstate where you found me,” I suggested.

“I’ve got a busted headlight. What’s the rush?” he snipped.

I didn’t want to tell him the rush.

“I fed you, kept you dry, and kept you from getting picked up by some pervert or serial psychopath,” he sweetened his voice.

Why I felt obligated to this man, I had no idea. I stayed the night on his couch. It was a one-room apartment, more of a garage that he rented really. It was drafty, musty, and uncomfortable, but I stayed anyway to avoid offending him.

The next day was filled with more excuses, and then more. He started telling me how pretty I was, how he really wished I’d stay. I wanted to leave, but I never said so, at least not then.

Years later, I was in the same town, always only a town or two over during the time I’d spent away, running, getting nowhere.

“Are you okay?”

I snapped out of my trance, looking up at Luke.

His face was pale and looked serious and confused by my drifting thoughts.

I shrugged it off and tried to laugh to put him at ease, but my chest was already beginning to tighten, the elephant back to take his seat.

“Lyla, she works here, right?” I asked quickly.

Luke paused, still staring at me with concern.

“Yes,” he replied, not offering no title of her position.

“A shrink?” I pushed.

“She’s a-uh, a psychiatrist,” Luke answered.

My belly filled with a strange anger. Why hadn’t he told me? Why hadn’t she?

“Well, she seems to think it might be better for me to get a place of my own here at the ranch,” I blurted.

Luke looked shocked. I couldn’t tell if he was angry, hurt, or just shocked.

“Is that what you want?” he questioned.

Again with that question. I had no idea what I wanted.

“She said the only way I’ll know what I truly want is to be on my own and heal,” I explained.

“I see,” Luke said, his lips drawing tightly together.

“I appreciate all of your help. I plan on paying you back for everything,” I offered.

“That’s not necessary,” Luke insisted.

“I’ve never been on my own. I-I just don’t want to be here out of obligation or creating a burden on you and your life,” I groveled.

“You’re never a burden, but of course, I don’t want you to feel obligated,” Luke said softly, his tone hard to read.

I didn’t like the tension, but it was thick between us.