Page 92 of Homestead

“You weren’t fakin’ everythin’ to make me happy?” His voice wavers just slightly, and it’s gut-wrenching.

“No! I hardly ever faked at all. Except… except today because I felt so sick and scared.”

He nods soberly. “I shoulda seen through it.”

We stand in silence for a moment, staring at each other.

“I…” I have to clear my throat before I can continue. “I’ve really liked being with you this year. The work has been hard, but I’ve… I’ve been able to tackle it, and I never knew I was strong enough to do that before. And being with you has been… has been really good. I’ve loved keeping house. I’ve loved taking care of you. I’ve loved trying to make you feel good and that you’ve been so serious about making me feel good too. It’s… it’s been one of the best years of my entire life, and the year isn’t even close to over. I did… I did believe this wasn’t supposed to be any more than we agreed, but it hasn’t felt like a burden to me.”

He’s breathing heavily again. He leans a little closer. “Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Good,” he murmurs thickly, taking my head in both his hands again. “’Cause it’s been one of the best years of my life too.”

He’s about to kiss me. I know it for sure, and I want it desperately. But his lips get about an inch away from mine when there’s a sudden crack of sound.

A gunshot.

Jimmy’s body jerks and he slumps over, grabbing the back of his thigh with both hands.

I gasp and stare at the blood that’s starting to seep through the denim around his fingers.

He’s been shot. That’s my one clear thought before everything happens all at once.

We’re swarmed. That’s what it feels like. There are a lot of people all moving at us at the same time. They surround us before I can react or even move my hand to my gun.

Jimmy does grab for his holster, but someone knocks him all the way to the ground before he can pull out the weapon. They kick him. More than once.

His grunts are horrifying, and I would have screamed if my throat would work. It doesn’t. So I choke instead as a big, smelly guy grabs me, holding me trapped against his body with both arms around me.

I struggle. It’s instinct, and I can’t help it. But there’s no way I can pull out of his brutal grip.

Terrified and dizzy and stunned and nauseated yet again, I let him pull me backward toward an old camouflage-painted Jeep SUV parked on the grass away from the road.

We would have heard an engine approach, so I have no idea where it came from.

They’re dragging Jimmy too. He’s completely limp and unconscious.

He might be dead for all I know.

I’m slammed with more fear and dizziness as we get near the back of the vehicle. With a final spurt of strength, I push on one of the forearms holding me until I can lean down and sink my teeth into the flesh.

The man howls in pain and outrage and lets go with that arm. I shove him away and turn to run.

I can’t.

He grabs for my ponytail, yanking on it so hard I’m briefly afraid he’ll pull my hair out. He whirls me around and punches me.

The world darkens, and I fall down.

* * *

I don’t think I’m out for very long, but the next thing I’m aware of is Jimmy’s voice. Jimmy’s hands on my face, my body. “Chloe. Chloe, baby. Wake up. Can you wake up?”

I blink, my head pounding violently, my vision still blurred and darkened. Or maybe there’s not much light where we are. But it’s his face above me. I can tell that much. “Jimmy?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m here. Can you sit up?”

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