Trespass (13 page)

“Why’d you change your mind, at the station?”

Russ bit his lip. He didn’t want to give her any insight into what was going on in his head, in case she tried to use it to manipulate him. “That’s my business.”

“You made it sound like you might let me stay and earn my keep.”

“Maybe.”

Russ turned as she blew out a deep, heavy sigh. “I’ll do whatever you ask me. I promise.”

An ache throbbed in his chest, sadness or dread. It was damn tough to see her this way, broken and obedient, when he’d felt so lit up by her feistiness when she’d still been Nicole to him. He wanted some taste of that back, some proof she hadn’t faked it all to soften him up, open his home and his heart. “Well, you can start by making breakfast,” he said, sitting wearily in the chair beside hers. Their knees were nearly touching, her jeans dark, his faded, both dusty.

She stood, setting her fingers lightly on his shoulder and making him flinch. She took her hand back. “Sorry.” She pushed out another almighty sigh, seeming to ground herself in some way. “How many eggs do you want?”

“Three.”

“Bacon?”

“Please.” The thinnest stream of calm trickled through his body, his muscles releasing some of their tension. He stared out back windows, remembering his duties. “I have to feed the animals.”

“Okay. I’ll be right here.”

“Good.” He grabbed his rifle as he stood, and her eyes followed the action. Guilt fisted his guts. “It’s so you won’t shoot me. Not because I’m planning on shooting you, if you run.”

She nodded and swallowed, looking as uncomfortable as Russ felt.

“I’ll be right out back.”

Another nod and Russ went out the rear door, taking in the cool air in deep, greedy gulps, so deep he felt his mind swim. He stared at the rifle in his hand, felt the keys in his pocket and wondered how he’d become this man so quickly. Lover one night, jailer the next. Tomorrow, maybe sucker again. He released a breath and chased it with a curse.

He checked the dogs first, finding them milling around the backyard, groggy but happy, hungry as always. No harm, no foul…no chance he’d be forgetting it anytime soon, though. Pathetic as it was, those dogs were his closest friends. He fed them and tended to the horses and stood still, staring at the far-off mountains for a long time. A knock on the window made him jump. He looked up to find Sarah on the other side of the glass, holding up a spatula.

He nodded then gave his property a final looking-over. Part of him dreaded going back inside. She was the one under house arrest, but Russ could feel his breath turning short, claustrophobic at the thought of sharing such a small space with her…with the body of the false woman he’d just about fallen in love with, suddenly inhabited by the real one who’d betrayed him. He checked his phone, praying for a job to rescue him. Nothing. He tucked it away and headed for the back steps.

Sarah finished washing the dishes and stole a glance behind her at where Russ was flipping through the paper. Everything was as it had been the day before, only utterly different. They hadn’t shared a single word as they ate, each lost in private thoughts. As she turned off the tap and dried her hands, she tried to muster the breath necessary to speak, to ask Russ what she should be doing—

“That was good,” he said, eyes still on the paper. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” Relief bloomed in her heart for a second, swiftly replaced by fresh guilt. “What else can I do for you?”

Russ’s chest swelled with a deep inhalation. He finally looked up, weariness dripping from every handsome feature on his face. “How’d you sleep last night?”

She wondered if he meant that accusingly, as in how had she found the gall to get any rest after what she’d done? But his expression told her it was merely a question. “Pretty horribly. Sort of wish you’d shot those tranquilizers at me after all.”

Russ’s smile was tight and humorless. “I figured. I got a ton of paperwork to take care of. You go ahead and take a nap, if you feel like it.” He nodded to the couch and its pile of blankets, and Sarah had to admit, it looked like heaven after the drama and anxiety and mistakes of the previous night.

“I’d like that.”

Russ shrugged. “Have at it. I’ll wake you this afternoon when it’s time for chores.”

She swallowed an urge to ask how he felt toward her and if he was going to let her stay. And if he did, how long they’d be this way, her the criminal and Russ the parole officer. She regretted what she’d done back in Buffalo, and until this morning she thought she’d never regret anything that badly for the rest of her life. But this, seeing the kindest man she’d ever met so clearly disappointed and untrusting… This hurt worse. Right now she’d give anything to fix what she’d wrecked, or maybe to have never crossed paths with Russ Gray in the first place. He deserved her like he deserved a kick in the teeth, the way she deserved a second chance—not at all.

Sarah watched him clearing the dining room table as she settled into the blankets, and she saw the biggest regret of her life standing there by the window. She had another urge to run, run far and fast until her lungs burst, if only to stand a chance of forgetting what they’d had for two glorious nights, the thing she’d wrecked, just like she’d known she would.

By ten that evening, Russ’s anger had faded from an open wound to a bruise. He and Sarah had spoken plenty in the last few hours, instructions politely requested and tendered as she helped with the chores. He’d switched the radio on during dinner and let the news fill the hole where flirtation and chitchat had been this time yesterday. He had no clue how to feel toward this woman. She was his lover, formerly a friend, now a stranger. Russ punched the pillows on his bed, listening to the sound of water flowing on the other side of the wall in the bathroom.

He stripped to his boxers and pulled on a clean T-shirt, staring at the bed. Keeping her in here was wrong. Not morally wrong; he had a right to be distrustful. But it felt weird, given the sexual tension they’d shared, to say nothing of what had gone on in this bed between them. Russ sank onto the edge of the mattress and rubbed his face.

“Knock knock.”

He looked up to find Sarah in the threshold, expression soft and timid.

“You want something to sleep in?”

She looked to her jeans. “If you’re offering, sure.”

He got up and rummaged in his dresser, tossed her a shirt and shorts. He busied himself setting his alarm clock while she changed. When the time came for them both to get into bed, Russ felt the itchiness dogging his conscience come to a head.

He stared at the bed and dragged a hand through his hair. “You um… You shouldn’t have to sleep with me.”

“It’s okay, Russ. I want you to trust me. It’s not the most terrible price in the world to pay.”

He met her eyes and found good-natured sadness there. “Makes me feel like a creep. Like I’m…” He trailed off.

“You’re not a creep.
I’m
the creep.”

Russ sighed, done with this talk, weary of her apologies and his own hurt. He strode to the lights and switched them off, waiting for her to get comfortable under the covers before he joined her. He slid between the comforter and the top sheet, a diplomatic layer between their bodies in case one of them rolled over in the night. His bed was big and he gave her plenty of space, an unspoken correction of the previous night’s physical restraint. Arms folded atop the covers, Russ stared at the faint slice of deep blue moonlight striping his ceiling and prayed for sleep to come quickly. After a minute the sheets rustled as Sarah rolled over to face him.

“Russ?”

He swallowed, her voice seeming so close in the darkness, so intimate and familiar. “Yeah?”

“Tomorrow… Do you think you’re going to turn me in? I’m sorry, it’s unfair to ask. But it’s torture, not knowing.”

He took a deep breath, then another. “No. I’m not going to turn you in.”

A pause, more rustling. “No?”

“No. I couldn’t do it when I was pissed to high heaven, and I know I won’t be able to now I’ve calmed down. That might make me the world’s biggest sucker, but…”

“I won’t run.”

“Even if you do, just tell me first. I’ll give you a little money, a lift to a bus station maybe.” Russ’s chest loosened from hearing himself articulate these things, from committing to a decision, even if it might prove a foolish one.

He heard Sarah’s head shift on the pillow and when she spoke her mouth sounded impossibly near. “That’d make you some kind of accomplice.”

“It’d make me some kind of idiot too. But when I see the back of you, I want to think maybe you’re going to be okay. Not still peppered with holes, hitching rides.”

“Okay.”

“You want me to draw you an insulting analogy?” Russ asked, smirking into the dark.

“Not if it means I get called a donkey again.”

“I was thinking a dog,” he said. “Anyhow, I’ve been bitten by lots of dogs since I became a vet, a couple coyotes, a wolf once…”

“Uh-huh.”

“All of them scared or sick or abused by somebody. And I still patched them up and sent them on their way. That’s what I’m doing for you.”

“You make those mean dogs sleep in your bed with you?”

Russ’s weak smile faded to nothing. “No, I don’t. Sorry.”

“I’m just teasing you. Like I’ve got any leverage to complain.”

“No, you’re right.” He pushed himself up and peeled the covers back. “You’re free to sleep where you want. You’re not my prisoner.”

She didn’t move or speak.

“Sarah?”

“No…thank you for that, but it’s fine. I’m already sort of comfy in here.”

It was Russ’s turn to hesitate. Now that he’d abandoned his earlier reasoning, forcing her to share his bed seemed ludicrous. “Fine. You stay here then.” He rolled to the edge of the mattress, getting to his feet and grabbing his pillow.

“Russ.”

“Yeah?”

Again a pause. “I feel like a jerk, driving you out of your own bed. I’ll take the couch.”

“I don’t care. You’re comfortable.”

“Yeah, but—”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Okay. Good night.”

He closed the door behind him, stumbling in the darkness to the cold leather couch to assemble the pile of blankets into an imitation of order. He got settled and stared at the dark blue squares of the windowpanes to his side, letting himself feel the antsy energy warming his body and admitting it was sexual. He’d made a decision to let her back into his home—his bed, even—expose his valuables to her, his hospitality, not to mention his trust, as tempered with skepticism as it was. Even his dignity, he was laying that on the line, hoping she wouldn’t run off into the darkness with it if she stabbed him in the back again. Still, his heart and his traitorous body—his hope—those he’d be keeping locked away, heck, shackled to his ankle where he’d never lose track of them. If she managed to hack his leg off in the dead of night and take those too…well the fuck with it then.

A strange series of sounds woke Russ early the next day—the muffled bleeps of his alarm, a female yelp, a faint crash and the barks of the dogs outside. He registered where he was and why, then flung the covers away and jogged to his room. He found Nicole—no, Sarah—bent over his nightstand, trying to cancel his alarm.

“What was that crash?” he asked, taking the clock from her and clicking it off.

“That was me knocking your lamp over. But don’t worry, it didn’t break.”

“Well, morning.” Russ finally looked her in the eye, seeing his own awkward hesitance reflected right back at him.

“Morning. Heck of a siren you’ve got there.”

“Sorry, it’s only got one setting. I usually wake up before it goes off.” He’d conditioned himself to do that years ago. Beth had always hated that alarm, always socked him on the shoulder when it went off and burrowed deeper in the covers. Russ’s internal clock had long ago adjusted to avoid her wrath.

“Feel free to sleep in, if you’re still tired,” Russ said.

“Nah, that’s okay.”

They went about dressing, tugging their jeans on with a synchrony that felt satirical. Russ buttoned his shirt and watched from the corner of his eye as she changed her own, not sure what he was looking to find…an old glimmer of attraction, maybe. Maybe nothing at all.

“You like oatmeal?” he asked, making his tone friendly and neutral.

“Whatever’s easy. I can make it, if you want.”

“It’s no trouble.” Russ’s throat felt tight from the effort it took to keep up this diplomatic charade. He fled to the kitchen to start breakfast. When he heard Sarah close herself in the bathroom, he went to the stereo and turned the radio on again, so stupidly afraid of a conversation when she reappeared.

In ten minutes she came out and seemed to take the hint. She went to her now-usual seat at the dining room table and slid yesterday’s paper over, saying nothing. Russ stared into the pot of bubbling oats, inventing a hundred tasks to get them through the day, keep them busy. He didn’t think he could stand to hear her apologize to him again. Every sad “I’m sorry” was a pin jabbed in his skin, a stinging reminder of how wrecked everything had become.

When the oatmeal was done, Russ doled it into bowls and set a box of brown sugar on the table between them.

She accepted her cereal with another weak smile, the faintest glimmer of those grins that had set Russ’s heart pounding before the betrayal.

“Thanks.”

He nodded, sliding the farming section out from the pile of papers and staring at the words all through the meal. She stood first, taking their bowls to the sink. Russ shivered from the familiarity of this routine, from how easy she was to get used to. As funny as it made him feel, he got up and went to the counter, taking the dishes as she rinsed them and blotting them dry with the towel. Somewhere deep and selfish in his body, he wanted to feel that spark between them again, not this heavy weight that had dropped in to take its place.

Sarah handed him the final dish. “Mind if I hole up in the bathroom this morning?”

Russ shrugged agreeably, then went to work making a pot of coffee. God knew he needed it. He’d slept like shit and had more of the literal same to shovel that morning when he mucked the stalls. Sarah took her plastic drugstore bags from the counter and shut herself in the bathroom.