Chapter 2
Wren
“Let’s go.”
I raised my head from my pillow. “Huh?”
“I said, let’s go. We need to go to the store, Wren. I don’t think we can get pizza delivered three times a day.”
“It’s ten o’clock at night.”
“Know that, darlin’. Now get up, throw on some shoes, and let’s go.” He moved to the other side of the screen that blocked the bed from the rest of the cabin.
I laid my head back down and sighed. I had no idea what he was up to. I had figured he had given up on going to the store after he ordered pizza for dinner. Apparently, I was wrong. “I’ll just stay here.” I crossed my fingers and closed my eyes. Maybe Maniac would finally cave and let me stay home.
“Not happening. Get up.”
“I’m tired.” I wasn’t, but he didn’t need to know that. Most nights, I laid awake listening to his light snoring, wishing I was anywhere but here.
“No, you’re not. Throw up all the excuses you want, Wren. You should know by now I don’t care.”
That was an understatement. It didn’t matter what I said, the man did whatever the hell he wanted to. “Where are we going?”
“The store.”
I rolled my eyes, and sat up. “Which store?”
“You wouldn’t know it.”
“What store around here is open after ten o’clock at night?”
“The kind we’re going to.”
Gah. He made me want to scream. “Do you think this store sells walls?” I shoved my feet into my boots I left by the side of the bed and stood. If I stretched onto my tiptoes, I could see over the screen into the living room and kitchen. Maniac had basically kidnapped me from the hospital and brought me to this one room cabin. The only walls in the place besides the four outside walls were the two walls in the corner that housed the teeny tiny bathroom.
I literally couldn’t get away from Maniac. An eight foot screen was hardly the privacy I craved.
“No walls, darlin’, just food,” he chuckled.
Of course. He wanted food, and I wanted walls. Guess what we were shopping for? Nothing that I wanted.
I grabbed my coat off the bench from the end of the bed and shoved my arms into the sleeves. “I’m staying in the truck.” I moved around the screen and crossed my arms over my chest.
“No, you’re not. You can come in and pick out food you’re going to eat.”
“I don’t care what we eat.”
He grabbed his keys from the small kitchen island. “Well, I care about what we eat.”
“Good. You can go in, and be one with the food. I’m staying in the truck.”
He shook his head. “You gonna fight about everything with me?”
“I don’t argue about everything.”
“Wren, really?”
I threw my hands up in the air. “Well, if you insist on treating me like a sixteen-year-old, then I guess I’m going to act like one.” Watching me like a hawk and ordering me around was not the way to get me to stop arguing with him.
“Can we just please go, Wren?”
Why did he get to act like the annoyed one? I wasn’t bossing him around and constantly checking if he was still breathing. “Fine, whatever.” Now I was really starting to sound like a sullen teenager.
I followed him out of the cabin and marched to the truck. “I told you I didn’t want to be around people.”
He didn’t unlock the truck until he was next to me and beeped open the locks. I reached to open my door, but he was quicker than I was and swung it open. “I heard you.”
I ignored the hand he held out to me to help me up and crawled in. “Then why are we going to the store?”
“Just trust me, okay?”
I looked down into his green eyes. “I’ve been asked to just trust someone before. You saw where that ended up.”
“And I’m not that someone.”
He may not be Rack, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t just like him or worse. “Can we just go?” I wasn’t into empty and fake promises. Been there, done that. Have the scars.
Maniac shut my door and jogged around the front of the truck. I was tempted to hit the locks to keep him out. Too bad he had the keys in his hand.
“Is that a smile on your lips, darlin’?” He stuck the key in the ignition and cranked up the truck.
I frowned. “No.”
“You sure about that? It was at least a smirk.”
It had been a smirk. The thought of getting one foot up on Maniac was a good one. “Drive.”
He shook his head and turned the truck around on the grass in front of the cabin. He pulled onto the road, and I reached out to turn on the radio.
Music.
Music was better than him talking.
“Is there seriously only one radio station in this Podunk town?” I hit the seek button ten times trying to find something other than the only country station that came in clear, but I didn’t have any luck.
“You got a problem with country?” he drawled.
“I prefer something that doesn’t involve someone's dog getting run over and a man twanging on about his woman who left him.” I settled on the lone country station in favor of having to talk to Maniac. My fingers twisted the volume up, and I sat back in my seat.
“For not liking country music, you sure do have that cranked up.” He twisted the knob down three notches.
“I didn’t know bikers like country music. I figured you for more of a metal head.” From his rugged exterior and rough voice to the fact he was an asshole ninety percent of the time, country was the last thing I would think he liked.
He shrugged and turned down the main street of Durham. “I listen to everything, darlin’. Country included.”
I watched the store fronts pass by out the window. “Everything is closed, Maniac. Are we planning on breaking into the grocery store?”
“It did cross my mind, but I figured you wouldn’t be into that.” He parked in front of the grocery store. All the lights were on, but the sign on the door said closed. He angled his body toward me and stretched his arm across the back of the seat.
“Then what are we doing?” I planted my hand on the seat between us and inched closer to the door.
He chuckled and shook his head. “You look like a deer ready to bolt. I can assure you armed robbery is not on the menu for tonight.” He pointed over my shoulder at the store.
I twisted and saw a bald man holding open the door to the store. “They’re open?”
I heard Maniac open his door, but I didn’t take my eyes off the impatient man at the storefront. Maniac walked up to him, handed him something, and the guy strolled over to the bench in front of the store.
Maniac opened my door. “Let’s go.”
He held out his hand, and I stared at it. “Huh?”
“Darlin’, you’re killing me here. Let’s get some food.”
I ignored his outstretched hand like always and slid out of the truck. “So they’re not closed?”
He shook his head. “Closed. I just slipped the guy a fifty to stay open for us.”
I gulped and looked at the man sitting on the bench. Lord knows what he thought about having to stay open for us. “What did you tell him?” I whispered.
“I told him I like to shop by the light of the moon.” He grabbed my hand and pulled me into the store with my jaw dropped.
The bell above the door jingled as the door shut. Maniac grabbed a cart and stood expectantly behind it. “You’re gonna have to do this with me. You told me you didn’t want to shop when there were other people, so I fixed that shit. Now come pick out whatever you wanna eat for the next week or so.”
He’s being nice, Wren. Throw the guy a bone.
I cleared my throat and nodded my head. “Um, can I push the cart?” I need something to hide behind.
He stepped back and held up his hands. “It’s all yours, darlin’.”
I gripped the handle bar of the cart. “You’re okay with me cooking some things?”
He fell in step next to me. “If that means I don’t have to cook anymore, I’m down with that. I’m surprised we’ve been surviving on takeout, grilled cheese, and bologna sandwiches.”
A laugh bubbled from my lips. “There was that crunchy bologna sandwich last week that didn’t sit very well with me.” I stopped next to bin of red, shiny apples. I looked up at him. “Fruit?”
“Get whatever is going to make you laugh like that again.” He grabbed an apple from the bin and tossed it in the air. “I could get used to that.”
Whoa. I turned my back to him and filled a bag with apples. Was it really that big of a deal I had laughed?
I added grapes, strawberries, and pears to the cart, and moved on to the veggies. “Um, any veggies you don’t like?” I wasn’t a gourmet chef, but I knew how to cook enough things so I didn’t starve.
“All of them?” He took a huge bite of the apple he had grabbed. “More of a meat and potatoes guy.”
I rolled my eyes and grabbed a bunch of asparagus. “You have to eat veggies.” It was like the man was ten.
“Been doing good the past fifteen years avoiding the hell out of them.”
“You know potatoes are like a vegetable, right?” I reached for a ten pound bag, but he swooped in and picked it up before I was able to.
“Let me do the heavy lifting.” He gaze landed on my wrists.
I yanked down my sleeves that had ridden up. “I’m fine.”
“Never said you weren’t.” He dropped the bag in the cart and looked around the produce department. “Any other veggies you’re going to make me eat?”
All I wanted to do was run and hide. This was the exact reason I didn’t want to go out in public. The scars on my wrists were red and raised. I knew people’s eyes would be drawn to the them. Hell, my eyes were drawn to them when my sleeves were pushed back.
A pink sweatshirt I rarely ever wore had become my security blanket, and I always had it on. Even when it was too hot, I still wore it.
I grabbed carrots and onions. “That’s it.” I could make do with these.
We moved through the meat department, grabbing steaks, hamburger, and a pork roast.
“You know what you’re doing with that?” he asked me.
“Um, yeah.” Season it, stick it in the oven for a few hours. Viola, pot roast. “It’s not rocket science.”
“My mom always used to make pot roast. It was horrible. The dog didn’t even eat it.” He cringed and shook his head.
“It’ll be edible.” His confidence in my cooking skills was lacking.
I stocked up on all sorts of seasonings and even had Maniac run back to the produce to get garlic.
After we made our way through the frozen food aisle, and spent way too much time piling the cart full of chips and soda, we made it to the checkout where the bald guy was waiting for us. He quickly checked us out while he made small talk with Maniac about the weather and who they thought would make it to the Super Bowl this season.
I hung back, my anxiety taking over. All I wanted to do was run to the truck and hide.
“Get the truck warmed up, darlin’.” He handed me the keys.
I grabbed them and clutched them to my chest. “Will do,” I whispered. I wasn’t going to ask how he knew I was ten seconds away from fleeing like a convict on the run.
After I basically sprinted from the store, I beeped open the locks and climbed up into the truck. I glanced back in the store, watching Maniac throw his head back and laugh at something the guy had said. The man was carefree, but he also gave off the air he could rip off your head at the drop of a hat.
He made me feel safe but also terrified me in the same breath.
I didn’t know what to do with him.
*