I left the apartment and stole through the deserted hallways. At the main door, I paused to put on shoes then stepped out into the pre-dawn darkness. The yard light cast shadows near the vehicles. I stood on the porch for a moment but heard nothing.
Cautiously walking across the empty expanse, I found the repaired truck, but no Clay. My stomach knotted as I studied the truck. Sam’s words about Clay’s intelligence haunted me. A man raised in the wild knew how to dismantle and reassemble an engine. I’d underestimated him. No matter which way I looked at it, it all pointed back to the fact I didn’t know enough about Clay to try to guess what he’d do next.
Back in the apartment, Sam waited, ready to leave. I didn’t bother with a shower but remade the bed and grabbed my own bag.
We made it back to the truck without any sign of Clay. Sensing my mood, Sam didn’t say anything to me as I climbed in, and we started the long drive home.
It was several hours into the ride when I finally stopped looking behind us or stretching my second sight to search for werewolves. There’d been no sign of Clay following us, but there’d been no sign of Clay following me the night before last, either.
Chapter 6
I was on edge the first week back, unsure if, or when, Clay would show up.
Desperate for distraction, I plunged into my two part-time jobs and worked as much as possible. I woke up early each morning, showered, ate breakfast, and packed a lunch, all long before Sam got out of bed. And because I still cared, I started his coffee before I walked out the door. In the evenings, a dark house greeted me when I returned home, worn out from the long day. Usually, Sam had something set aside for my dinner. I’d eat, go to bed, then start the cycle again the next morning.
I could have asked Sam if he knew what Clay planned, but he hadn’t mentioned Clay since we’d left the Compound. I feared, if I brought it up, he would think I missed Clay or something. Since I didn’t want Sam sending out a call that might cause Clay to show up when he otherwise wouldn’t, I kept quiet. Worry ate at me; but, as time passed, and my hectic schedule successfully prevented thoughts of Clay, I started to feel safe again.
Three weeks before the start of school, I found the perfect roommate, Rachel. I’d been watching the papers near school when I came across her ad for a roommate. We hit it off the first time we spoke on the phone. She attended the same school in which I’d enrolled and was going into her third year in the nursing program. She rented a two-bedroom house. Her roommate from the prior year had moved out after graduation. Rachel had tried living on her own over the summer, but the bills grew too expensive and the house too quiet.
After our call, I did some research and found the house wasn’t in the best part of town, but I couldn’t find anything closer that I could still afford. Plus, the unoccupied bedroom she offered came furnished with a bed and a dresser; I didn’t own the bed I slept on now and didn’t feel right taking it with me when I left. So, I called Rachel back and let her know I wanted the room.
Sunday, a week before school started, I once again packed my possessions, an old familiar routine I’d forgotten while living with Sam. Sam pretended not to care I was leaving, but I knew he did. I’d only stepped out of my room for a minute to grab my shampoo and brush from the bathroom, and when I walked back into the room, I caught him slipping some money into the emergency cash I kept hidden in a half-full tampon box in my dresser. He pretended to check the dresser as if ensuring I hadn’t forgotten anything. I went along with it.
Packing didn’t take long. Everything I owned fit into several messenger bags and an old suitcase I’d gotten at a secondhand store. By lunch, we had what I needed loaded into the back of Sam’s truck. A passerby wouldn’t have noticed the small pile.
After one last look around the house to make sure I had everything, we climbed into the truck and started the journey. Sam looked slightly depressed as he drove. Excitement filled me, but I fought hard to keep it from showing. I didn’t think my joy would give him any comfort.
“You’ll call me if you have any trouble?” Sam asked, yet again.
“Yes, Sam. But I’m over four hours from you. I’ll need to face things on my own.”
“Not on your own. Elder Joshua has moved nearby. I’ll be able to contact him if you have a need.”
Sam had mentioned Elder Joshua to me a few days after I’d found Rachel. I knew Elder Joshua’s recent move was for me but didn’t make any complaint. As long as he stayed away until I needed something, we’d get along just fine.
When we arrived, Rachel sat waiting on the front step of the small ranch house. She’d described herself on the phone as just over average height with brown hair and eyes. She’d left out everything else. Her deep, brown hair hung silky-straight, and the beautifully bronzed tone of her skin had me wondering if she had any African-American heritage. Her perfectly arched brows didn’t appear tweezed or penciled, and they highlighted her darkly lashed eyes.
At about five-foot ten inches, she surpassed average height. Long, lean legs extended from her cutoffs, and her V-neck top showed sufficient cleavage to know she didn’t need to stuff her bra, either. Overall, she was gorgeous enough to make a straight girl wonder if she should switch teams, and that worried the hell out of me. Oh, not that I’d switch teams. As annoying and obsessive as men were, I still preferred them. No, her attitude the first time a man overlooked her and focused on me, worried me. Let’s face it. Pretty girls can be very mean.
I drew my brief gaze from her as she stood to watch Sam do a Y-turn to back into the driveway. Using the side mirror of the truck, I studied the house.
A cracked and uneven sidewalk led to the front steps. Faded yellow aluminum siding and brown trim gave the small house a slightly run down look. Rachel had mentioned room dimensions to me to prepare me. After living at Sam’s place, this house did appear small from the outside. Only two windows adorned the front of the house. There was a large picture window, which probably meant a living room, and, on the side of the house close to the driveway, a much smaller window. With the shade half-drawn, I assumed it belonged to a bedroom. How many houses had just two windows on their front? At least, they looked new, as did the roof.
As Sam backed into the driveway, I smiled and waved to Rachel. She walked toward the truck while Sam parked.
“Hi! Gabby, right?” Rachel said with an excited smile.
“Yes.” I opened my door and stepped out of the truck. She caught me off guard by pulling me into an embrace. With my arms pinned to my sides, I fought the urge to pull back. “I hope you’re Rachel.” With that, she let me escape from her exuberant hug.
“I’m so glad to see you look so normal,” she said looking even happier than she had a moment ago. “I was worried I’d end up with someone weird when I put that ad in the paper.” Ah, that explained the happiness. Too bad, she had no idea how “weird” I was.
Sam came around from his side of the truck.
“Rachel, this is my grandpa, Sam.”
“Hi, Sam!”
He quickly extended his hand for a friendly handshake, and I hid my smile. He’d noticed her boisterous hug.
Rachel clasped his hand. “Would you like to come in and see the place before we carry everything in?” She darted a puzzled look at the back of the truck.
I smiled. “We’ll be able to carry it in and take a tour at the same time. I don’t have much.”
We grabbed my bags and walked around to the front of the house. The door opened to a tiny entry, with the vacant bedroom immediately to the right, a small hall closet straight ahead, and the living room to the left.