The slamming of a car door wakes me up, but when my eyes open Scott is still sitting in the SUV beside me. I look around. We’re at an old gas station that’s closed. At first glance it looks like it’s in the middle of nowhere on a dusty, tree shrouded corner. The two storey orange sign that I’m sure is visible for miles around—when it’s on—is dimmed. Only a single bright fluorescent street light illuminates the parking lot. The confusion only lasts a second before my stomach sinks. This is the kind of gas station where people go to die.

“Where are we?” I ask Scott. There’s no way. There is no fucking way Scott is setting me up.

“We’re meeting my brother. Just hang here for a second.” He opens the door and calmly steps out of the car, and when I look over my shoulder, the very large man charging toward us is anything but calm. Scott closes me inside alone. I can still hear his brother’s voice through the windows.

“You got a lot of fucking nerve showing up here!” the brother says. I can’t hear Scott’s response, but I see his hands moving. He’s trying to get his brother to calm down.

“Shit,” I whisper to myself. I turn in my seat so I can watch them. Scott is going on and on. I wish I could hear him. The brother is listening, and every so often he shakes his head. Whatever Scott is telling him is not going over well.

“No! Fuck you! Are you out of your fucking mind?” the brother says. I still can’t hear when Scott responds. I see him gesture toward the car, toward me. His brother’s hands go to his hips and then up to his head. He pulls off his baseball cap and runs his fingers through his messy, dark hair. He shakes his head before he slams his hat back into place.

Scott is still talking, still gesturing. His brother seems like he’s starting to really take in what he’s saying, and his posture hasn’t eased at all. And even though his skin is deeply tanned, even darker than Scott’s, I can see a hint of red flashing up and down his arms and the bit of his neck that’s not in shadow. I don’t know what is happening here, but I know this is a mistake. I get out of the car. My legs are stiff and sore, and I carefully step toward them over the dirt and broken asphalt.

“I didn’t say you owe me anything,” I hear Scott say before he stops himself. His brother isn’t looking at him anymore. He’s looking at me. As I get closer I can’t stop looking at him. Scott never told me he had a twin. I vaguely remember him mentioning a brother and him saying something about his parents and a second honeymoon. If, in the back of my mind, I ever thought about actually meeting any members of Scott’s family, this man is not what I would have expected.

His brother is just as tall as Scott, and he is fucking built. Where Scott is slender and a little soft around the middle, I can't help but notice the way this man’s New York Jets t-shirt is straining across his chest and around his biceps. Scott’s been clean shaven as long as I’ve know him, baby smooth. His brother has a full goatee and mustache, and he’s working what looks like three days worth of stubble along his jaw. He stares at me for a moment and then his eyes narrow. He looks back at Scott.

“You know what? Fine. Whatever will get you out my face for another ten years. Did you both cook up this awesome plan or did you leave her in the dark too?”

“Jesus, Si, there’s no fucking conspiracy against you here, and no I haven’t told her yet. We left the city in a rush,” Scott says. Something in his voice is off. Like he's afraid of his brother. All of my alarm bells are going off.

“Tell me what?” I say. They both ignore me.

“So you thought you could stash her with me. Of all people,” the brother, Si?, says.

“Because no one knows you're here,” Scott replies.

“How about this? Scott and I get back in the car,” I say, sidestepping between them, not too close. If things turn physical, I’m not breaking that shit up. I may be tall, but I’m not crazy. They both turn and look at me. “We leave you alone and don’t come back.”

“No,” Scott says. “This is the perfect place for you.” He turns back to his brother. “Just give me some time. I’m not sticking you with a kid, fuck. She’s a grown ass woman. Plus she brought work with her. She’ll be out of your hair.”

“You didn’t tell him I was coming at all?” I ask Scott. “I thought this was your place.”

I almost step back at the noise that comes out of his brother. Halfway between a laugh and a strangled, choking sound of disgust. “His place? What the fuck are you telling people down there?”

More alarms bells. I grab Scott’s arm. “Let’s go.”

“No, it’s fine,” he says as he shakes me off. “This isn’t about us. She is in real danger—”

“Did someone really try to kill you?” he asks me.

That pain comes back to my chest and spikes up my throat. I’m so fucking sick of people acting like this is something I would even consider making up. “Yes.”

“Great. Do you have any bags in the car?” Si says, stalking off toward Scott’s Mercedes without waiting for me to answer. They may have their issues, but Scott hits the remote locks a second before his brother opens the trunk in a way that makes me think this is a kind of coordinated move they’ve practiced together before.

I’m so in awe watching Si move, I don’t realize until a moment later that he’s hoisted my leather duffle out of Scott’s trunk and has hauled it over his shoulder.

“Well,” Scott says to me, with a fucking attitude.

“Well what?” I shoot back.

He rethinks his tone when he hears mine. “Look, our relationship is complicated,” he says, nodding toward his brother who’s stomping back across the parking lot, ignoring both Scott and me. I watch him as he puts my painfully expensive bag in the flatbed of his dirt and dust covered pick-up.

“This isn’t about you at all. The house is half mine and I’m telling you that you are more than welcome to stay there. And even if he and I aren’t the best of friends at the moment, he’s the best person to look after you. You are safe with him.”

I turn back and look Scott directly in the face. “I don’t like being lied to. Especially with the week I’m having.”

“I know, but you’ll be safe here. I promise.”

I look over at Si again. He’s leaning against the driver’s side of his truck with his back to us. His arms are folded over his chest, his shirt is straining across his muscular back. He does seem more pissed at Scott than anything, and I did ask for this. Not the whole of this, but I did ask for his help and some place to go. Under the roof of the brother almost no one knows Scott has is as good a place as any. And Si is pretty big and, unlike Scott, he looks like he could handle himself in a six-on-one bar fight. I can’t imagine wanting to tangle with him, even if you are skilled at breaking, entering and battery.

“I want to think that you don’t owe me after this, but I sort of do. You should have told me,” I say.

“I’ll never lie to you again, Lewis. How about that?” he says with that little sly smile of his. “Go ahead with him. First thing in the morning, I’m calling Tillery. I’m gonna get to the bottom of this. Okay?”

“Yeah, okay. I have to grab the rest of my stuff.”

He turns and slips his hand around my lower back. “Come on.”

I sigh and follow him back to the car and grab my purse and my phone. Scott offers me a gentle one-armed hug around the shoulders and then climbs back behind the wheel. I turn and watch him drive away before I can even make my way back across the small lot to his brother’s truck.

Si doesn’t say anything to me. He just jumps in and reaches across the seat to shove the passenger door open for me. I climb in and we both sit there for a moment not saying anything. He smells like sweat, but not in a bad way. I swallow and fold my hands over my bag in my lap.

“I don’t like this.”

I look over at him. “You think I’m having a good time?”

“Sorry.” He shakes his head and then stares out the window. He’s silent for almost a solid minute before he glances over at me. “Are you sure you’re okay with this?” he says. This time his voice is much more calm.

“Look. I had no idea where Scott was bringing me. I definitely didn’t know that you and Scott were—whatever. I didn’t you two were estranged. Or had a strained relationship. If he’d told me you guys were having issues, I never would have come up here.”

“Are you and Scott sleeping together?”

I whip my head in his direction. “No.”

He doesn’t respond for a moment. He takes off his baseball cap and inspects it, checking out the rounding of the brim instead of making eye contact. “He must really like you then.”

That shocks me more than the sex question. I shake my head, realizing how the thought of Scott having any type of feelings for me does not sit well. “No. I don’t think that’s true. He’s had plenty of chances to say something and I don’t think I’m his type.” Scott seems exclusively attracted to White women, which is one of the reasons I knew a friendship between him and I would work. There was no chance he would ever try to open that door with me. I’m not his type.

“You’re beautiful enough,” Si adds, all flippant and cool before he goes on. “Did he tell you his brilliant plan?”

“Other than me laying low at his place upstate? No.”

“We’re supposed to pretend you’re my girlfriend. We met online and this is our first time meeting in person. We decided it was finally time for you to come stay with me.”

“Ah-uh. Interesting.” I let out a deep breath and for once embrace the ache in my ribs. It reminds me that I’m not in good enough shape to jump on Scott’s shoulders and snap his neck.

“It makes sense,” Si says. His tone is flat, but he sounds like he actually believes we should go along with this stupid plan. He sounds like he’s annoyed that Scott was smart enough to come up with the idea first.

“Really?” I say, tilting my head. “Does it?”

“Well it’s pretty bootleg witness protection, but if you’re trying to stay out of sight for awhile it wouldn’t make sense for me to tell anyone who you really are. Unless you want me to.”

I push my knuckles up under my chin for a second and reconsider every moment I’ve ever spent with Scott and how badly I want to chase him down whatever dirt road he just pulled off on so I can cuss him clean the fuck out. “I don’t. I have a family and friends I’m worried about. It’s better if no one knows where I am.”

“So that’s settled. How do you want to do this?”

“What do you mean ‘how do you want to do this?’ Do you want to pretend I’m your girlfriend? Are you okay with me coming into your life like this? We’re going to your home. I assume you have at least a few friends, maybe some coworkers you go drinking with. I don’t want to mess up whatever you have going on. You and Scott don’t seem all that close, and it looks like he wouldn’t have a clue if I was screwing with any part of your life.”

“You’re not,” he says.

“Okay, well. Do you have any weird shit that I should know about since I’m going to be staying in your house? Shit a girlfriend should know about?”

“Not really and it won’t matter. You won’t see me much.”

I don’t know how to respond to that.

He sighs. “I just mean, it’s more than just a farm. We have a country mart, a little cafe, animals—I’m busy. I can’t babysit you.”

“Wait. Time out. You own a farm?”

Si finally looks at me, his mouth hanging open. “He didn’t tell you anything.”

“He just said he had a place upstate.”

“Unbelievable. He’s a piece of shit,” he adds under his breath. “Yes, I own a farm. It’s our family farm.”

“You have no life because you spend all of your time dealing with the farm?”

“Exactly. I hope boring works for you in a make-believe boyfriend.”

“Sure,” I say. “Whatever. I mean, thank you. You didn’t have to do this and it wasn’t right for Scott to not be upfront with you about whatever plan he was cooking up.”

“We can agree there. You ready?”

“I guess. You can tell me about yourself on the way there and we can make up a nice little backstory for me.”

“Awesome,” he says. He already regrets this. “You want me to call you by your real name or do you have an alias you’ve been saving for a moment just like this?”

“Not sure I’ll actually respond to any other names,” I tell him honestly, but immediately something comes to mind. “Ebie. Like the letters E and B.”

“Ebie. Done.”

“Should I call you Si?” I ask

“No,” he says. “Only Scott calls me that. Silas McInroy. Owner of McInroy’s Farm. Great to meet you.” He doesn’t shake my hand or anything though. He just starts his pick-up truck and backs out of the lot.

* * *

We’re both quiet again for a few minutes after Silas pulls out of the gas station. We drive down a dark road, illuminated by the moonlight overhead. I have questions, but I don’t know where to start. Also, the longer I spend sitting next to this man, the more aware I become of him. He is large. So large and nothing like Scott, even though I can see the stark resemblance in their facial features. I like Scott, I do, but he’s such a fucking obnoxious man in the way he walks and takes up space. And Scott never shuts up. He doesn’t talk over me, but if the opportunity is there, Scott’s mouth is open.

Silas is comfortable with silence. He doesn’t even turn on the radio. I glance at him and then turn my eyes back to the road. I can’t remember the last time I was somewhere so quiet and empty.

“You allergic to dogs?” he asks out of nowhere.

“I don’t think so. Why, you have a dog?”

“We have five. A few wander a bit and usually sleep near the barns. Two sleep in the house. I hope that’s not a problem.”

“As long as they aren’t face-biting dogs that can smell fear, we should be fine.”

“No, they don’t bite. They should lose interest in you pretty quickly. I will be busy, but tomorrow, in the afternoon after you get some rest, I’ll take you around and introduce you to everyone.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“The farm is like a little city. People are curious and nosy. It’s better if I introduce you to everyone who works on the farm and give them strict instructions not to bother you once they’ve seen your face. Otherwise, one person will get a whiff of a visitor and people will start showing up while you’re trying to sleep or work just to introduce themselves.”

“Ah okay. Small town nosy.”

“Yes,” he says as we come to the most quaint country four-way stop. There’s no one out. It’s the dead of night, but he stops anyway and waits a few beats before proceeding through the intersection.

“You have any hobbies? Things you like. I see you’re a Jets fan.”

He glances over at me and smiles. I almost gasp. It’s Scott’s smile, but about fifty times sexier for a whole host of reasons. “You a Pats fan or something?”

“Not much into sportsball,” I say. “But I do enjoy the occasional Yankees game.”

“Well in that respect we’ll get along just fine. Anything you hate? Things I shouldn’t do that will get me smacked?”

“I can’t remember the last time I actually smacked someone, so just don’t be a piece of shit and I think we’ll get along just fine.”

“Fair enough.”

He’s quiet again for a bit and then we hit the first real signs of civilization. A few cute houses pop up on the right side of the road. On the left are sprawling fields. Further down the road I see the first sign for Mom’s Apple Orchard. A cute white fence lines the road, closing in rows and rows of trees. The next sign I see is for Boot’s Farm, then a sign for Hoyt’s Farm and Country Tavern.

“It’s a bit of an apple town.”

“You own an apple farm?” I ask.

“Yes.”

“Huh. Interesting.” I look back out the window and watch as we pass three more farms and a sort of strip mall that features several different restaurants made up to look like a street in an Old West town. Finally I see it. The sign for McInroy’s farm. Below the giant cutout of an apple with white letters scrawled across it are smaller white signs. U-Pick. Cafe. Petting Zoo. Cannery. I realize a moment too late that I’ve made a little noise. It’s a noise I’m not sure I’ve made me before, a gasp of genuine excitement. I glance back over at Silas. I’m sure he heard me, but his expression is blank and his eyes are still on the road.

Silas slows down and he keeps driving another three blocks or so to an unmarked road. He pulls in and we drive down a long, wide dirt road until we get to a for real white farmhouse with a wrap around porch with a porch swing. It has charming black shutters and everything. There’s even a large tree with a tire swing right out front. As we get closer, I can hear dogs barking and sure enough, two dogs jump off the porch and come running toward the truck.

Silas comes to a stop. “Don’t be afraid of the dogs. They won’t jump on you. They just greet everyone who drives up.”

“Good alarm system too, I guess,” I say instead of “they better not, ’cause I’m not above kicking a dog in self defense.”

“Come on.”

I climb out of the truck and wait as Silas grabs my duffle out of the back. I reach for it, but he ignores me. Sure enough, a golden retriever and something that looks like a lab pitbull mix come sprinting up to us and are all over him, but aren’t so interested in me.

“This is Morty and Gala.” He pets them both for a moment, cooing at them like they are his most precious babies, before he snaps his fingers and tells them to go sit. On command, both dogs run over to the far end of the porch and go back to their guard duties. I watch them as he opens the screen door and the red door beyond that. It isn’t locked. He gestures for me to enter and I step into a large front room, with a long staircase. All the lights in the front of the house are off, but there’s some illumination coming from the end of the long hall. If I didn’t know he lived there for a fact, I’d think the place was abandoned. I can’t see much, but even a quick glance in the near dark tells me no one has been in the dining room off to the left in years, same for the sitting room off to our right. I can’t see it, but I can just feel the dust. The place feels haunted.

“There are technically two bedrooms upstairs, but they don’t have any beds you’d want to sleep in,” he says. I almost jump at the sound of his voice. I don’t like it here.

“You don’t have overnight guests.”

“No. Hey Joe Namath.” My heart almost stops as he says the words. We’re in this creepy ass house and now he’s hallucinating retired football players, but when I look down the hall again I see an old golden retriever ambling into the foyer. The dog stops, then looks at Silas and me before he turns around and heads back to whatever room he came from.

“Hmm.”

“I'm dealing with people all day. I don't need houseguests. Those running from the mob excluded.”

“Appreciate it.”

“Come this way.”

I close the front door behind me and lock it on instinct, then follow him down the hall to what turns out to be his bedroom. I don't want to call him a hoarder. I can see all his furniture. There's a king size bed with a nice Shaker style headboard. The bed is big enough to accommodate his height and the whole situation with his muscle mass, which is good. There’s no footboard. There’s a dresser, two big wooden chairs with leather cushions, and there is just shit everywhere. Clothes and sneakers and boots. Papers, antique crap like glass jars and old wooden crates. There are clothes spilling out of the closet. It won’t close.

There's a little stack of receipts on top of the AC unit being weighed down by a toy tractor. It's not a big deal, but I know he's not joking when he says he doesn't have company. There’s a large, shaggy copper furred dog sleeping on top of the pile of clothes in the chair. It cracks an eye open, but otherwise ignores us. Silas ignores the dog too so I decide to ask about it while I keep looking around.

“The bathroom is right through there.” He points toward a half open door. There were three towels hanging over it. “It's not clean, but I’ll call someone to come scrub it down tomorrow.”

“You don't have to,” I say.

“Go have a look for yourself.”

I set down my purse on the leather chair that doesn’t have a dog in it, then walk to the bathroom door. I find the light switch and also find that at the very least Silas is not one to exaggerate. The bathroom is nasty. It’ll do in a pinch, but I know I’ll die from long term exposure to whatever is growing in the corner of his shower. And I realize I have no idea what color the sink really is. I turn around and face him.

“Like I said, I'll have someone come clean it tomorrow.”

“Thank you.”

“There's a couch in the living room. I'm not gonna make you sleep there, but I'm not sleeping out there either. I need real rest. Hope you’re okay with that.”

I think about the couch for a second and decide a night in a bed with a stranger will be better than a night on another piece of lumpy furniture alone in this creepy ass house.

“We’re both adults,” I say. “And I don't have a groping problem. As long as you’re cool keeping your hands to yourself, I’m fine sharing the bed.”

“I’m not going to touch you,” he says before he turns his back.

I stand there a little dumbstruck as Silas steps out of his boots and socks and starts unbuttoning his jeans. I take that as a cue that it’s time for bed. I risk toxic shock and step back into the bathroom to change, wrap my hair and brush my teeth. When I come back out, Silas is laying on his back on top of the covers, looking at something on his phone. I try not to check him out, but it’s hard. He’s so large and even though his boxers are fairly loose, I cannot ignore the situation down there. Friend is packing something serious.

I clear my throat and try to stash my hormones before I dig out my phone charger.

“There’s an outlet right there,” he says pointing toward the wall near the dresser.

“Thanks.” I plug in my phone, then text Brook.

She responds immediately.

I set my cell down on top of a tattered copy of an Old Farmer’s Almanac from 1975. Then I turn around. Silas is looking at me with his hands across his chest. We’re just going to sleep. I’m hiding from people who literally want me dead, but my body doesn’t seem to give any kind of a shit. I feel a heat I haven’t felt in a long time wash over me. It stops directly between my legs.

“If we met online it would be this fucking awkward, right?” I say.

He shrugs, his lips tipping down. “This isn’t awkward for me. You want to get in bed so I can turn off this light?”

I glare at him, but cross the bit of exposed, tattered area rug and sit down on the edge of the bed. He turns off the light before I lie back, and my eyes quickly adjust to the moonlight that is streaming through his bedroom curtains. The curtains have also seen much better days.

“Goodnight,” he says, his voice sounding a little deeper than it was a moment before.

I mean to roll away from him before I respond, but that part of my brain that’s in charge takes over and rolls toward the heat of Silas’s body. My arm brushes his. I pull it away and clear my throat.

“Goodnight.”