The mattress was hard. Some of the inner springs had begun to uncoil and were poking me in the back. The smell inside the camper was of mildew and mold. Musty, I would call it.

I loved it. Every tiny little inch of it.

I was in a strange town, in what appeared to be the middle of the swamp, thousands of miles away from the life I’d always known. I was alone. Terrified.

And fantastically free.

Clutching my mother’s letter to my chest, I drifted off to sleep knowing that whatever was in store for me was better than what I’d left behind.

My mother had told me to be strong. Be brave. I made a promise to myself that no matter what happened, I’d continue to do just that.

There was a loud bang in my dream. Instantly my thoughts drifted to my father. The ladder. Him falling to the ground. The snap of bone.

As I roused from slumber to consciousness, I became very aware that the noise hadn’t come from a dream. It was real. VERY real.

And coming from inside my camper.

My tiny living space swayed from side to side with each heavy footstep taken toward me.

I felt it then. The dread crawling up my spine like a slow-moving spider.

He’d found me.

I opened my eyes and standing over me was the large dark shadow of a man.

“No! Don’t!” I shouted, scrambling up the mattress. With nothing around to use as a weapon, I raised my forearms defensively over my face. “You might as well get it over with now. Beat me until your knuckles bleed. Kill me if you have to. But I’m not going back. Not now. Not ever!”

“Who do you think I am?” a deep voice questioned.

A voice that didn’t belong to my father.

Hesitantly I peered through my arms and as the last bit of sleepy haze cleared in my mind, it was Finn I saw standing at the foot of the bed. His arms were raised above his head, resting against the metal header that ran across the ceiling. He was leaning forward, eyeing me suspiciously. “And what did he do to you?” he asked, a vein throbbing in his temple. His jaw tight.

“Nobody, it was nothing. Just a bad dream.” I answered, not wanting to appear weak to the man who’d almost run me off the side of the road. And although I was grateful he wasn’t my father after all, he was still a stranger, leaning over my bed, in the middle of the night.

“Bullshit,” Finn growled. His nostrils flared.

“What? What are you doing here?” I asked, the fear from earlier spiking the adrenaline through my body once again. “What do you want from me?” I held the worn blanket over my chest to cover up my nightdress.

“What is it you think I want from you?” Finn asked. I could hold the blanket over me all I wanted. The way Finn was looking at me so intensely, so deeply, it was as if he could see through both the blanket and my clothes.

“I don’t know what you want from me. But I know you need to leave. Right now,” I said, using my strongest voice.

“I didn’t come here to fuck you if that’s what you’re thinking,” Finn said, emphasizing the word FUCK.

I gasped.

“What?” He chuckled and the sound vibrated throughout the small space. I felt it all the way into my chest. “You’ve never heard anyone say the word fuck before?”

“No, I’ve heard it before,” I responded.

I’d just never FELT the word before.

The fluorescent light overhead flipped on with a sputtering buzz and suddenly Finn was in full view, no longer a looming shadow.

He wasn’t wearing his baseball cap like he was earlier, revealing messy but straight dirty blond hair that kissed his jaw line. His nose was slightly crooked. His lips were the fullest I’d ever seen on a man. Dark blue circles created half-moons under each of his eyes which were not dark, or demon-red like I half expected them to be, but bright like I’d imagined the ocean would be in the Caribbean. Above his left eye was a scar that had healed and was slightly lighter in color than his tanned skin. It was jagged and ran from the top of his eyebrow into his hairline.

It figures that out of all the people I’d met throughout my entire life—men or women—this gruff angry man, was by far the most beautiful person I’d ever seen.

If losing my mother wasn’t enough proof that life wasn’t fair, Finn looking the way he did was all the proof I needed.

My heart raced. I wasn’t used to being in such close proximity to a man with so much skin exposed.

Finn’s massive body made my already tiny living space look even tinier, the top of his head brushed the ceiling. His shoulders were so wide there was only room for him in the small walkway.

“Who are you?” Finn asked, narrowing his eyes.

“Sawyer,” I answered with as much strength as I could muster. “I’m Sawyer.”

Finn chuckled again and some of the lines on his forehead disappeared. “Finn,” he offered.

“I know your name. Josh told me when she dropped me off.”

Finn stood there like he was waiting for me to say something. “Finn and Sawyer,” he prompted, raising his eyebrows.

“Yes. Finn and Sawyer,” I confirmed. Maybe he just had a thing for names.

“Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn?” he questioned. “Mark Twain?”

“Are those friends of yours?”

“You seriously don’t…” Finn paused and shook his head. His expression hardened. “Never mind. Just tell me, Sawyer, why are you really here?” His lip curled up at the end.

“I’m here because I have every right to be here. This is MY land,” I pointed to the deed on the small cutting board that served as a counter.

Finn picked up the deed and promptly set it back down. “Your land is about forty feet back into the marshlands.” He pointed behind my head. “Right now, you’re on my land and you need to move.”

“How am I supposed to do—”

He cut me off. “It doesn’t matter. You’ve got a week to move it or I’m setting this thing on fire.”

“Why?” Is all I could manage to ask.

“Because, for your sake, I’m warning you. You don’t want to be my neighbor.”

I stood from the mattress, expecting Finn to take a step back to allow me room, but he didn’t budge. I felt the heat of his breath as he stared hatred into my eyes like fire was about to spout from his nostrils. He smelled like cedar and whiskey.

“Well, you are my neighbor whether you like it or not because I’ll move my camper, but I’m not leaving MY land,” I challenged, folding my arms over my chest.

Finn’s gaze dipped down to where I knew he could see my nipples through the thin fabric of my long white cotton night dress. My skin heated.

“You’re awfully feisty for someone who dresses like a nun,” Finn said, looking at my mouth while he spoke.

I instinctively reached up to press my fingers to my lips. For a few moments, we just stood there, staring one another down.

Finn broke eye contact first and finally took a step back. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” he said, right before he turned and left.

The camper rocked as he stepped off the step and slammed the door behind him.

I raced over and clicked the flimsy lock as if the thin strip of plastic could prevent Finn from storming his way back in with little to no effort.

Bending at the waist with my hands on my knees I tried to calm my erratic heart and catch my breath.

I’d just gotten to Outskirts. I hadn’t even started figuring out why my mother wanted me to come here. There was no way I was going to let the likes of someone like Finn run me off.

Mother told me to steer clear of anyone who tried to make others feel as weak as they do.

Finn Hollis was one of those people.

I stood up straight and couldn’t help but to stand on my tiptoes and chance a glance out through the small window.

Finn was on his porch. He turned and scowled in my direction.

The land. The town. The people. Everything was new to me.

But angry men weren’t, and I refused to be intimidated.

Not by my own fears.

Not by the church.

Not by my father.

Not by anyone.

Not ANYMORE.