Page 8 of Fixing to Be Mine

“Oh, it usually is,” she confirms, studying me. Her blue eyes are sharper than her tone. Remi isn’t judging me, but she’s assessing me like she’s already seen a dozen women trying to outrun their lives. I think she’s deciding whether I’m worth the risk or not.

The room smells like warm vanilla and fresh laundry. There’s a little basket on the desk of sweet peppermints that melt in your mouth, and a wooden key rack mounted on the wall. It feels lived in, but taken care of, like someone who remembers birthdays and still writes thank-you notes runs the place.

“Gah. I’m booked too,” she says, tapping her fingers against the counter.

“Thank you for checking.” I nod, even though disappointment is already squeezing my chest.

I’m not sure what I thought would happen, but I had hope. Maybe this is a sign I need to get my ass back to the city. If I don’t find anything by tomorrow night, I’m leaving town.

She pulls out a notepad and scribbles something on the paper before ripping it off and handing it to me. At the top is the logo for the bed-and-breakfast, a cute horseshoe with a sans serif font.

“Try this address,” she says.

I glance down at it.

“Where does this lead me?”

She grins. “To Colt’s. He lives ten miles that way in a house he’s rebuilding. He wouldn’t offer you to stay with him because it still needs a lot of work. But if you show up and tell him you have nowhere else to go, he’ll figure it out. He’s a helper with a big heart. Being around him might be good for you.”

I stare at the paper for a second too long.

“Why are you helping me?” I ask.

Remi shrugs like it’s obvious. “That’s what Valentines do. And there’s something about you I admire. A fighting spirit.”

I give her a smile, understanding what she means. “Thank you.”

Remi walks me to the door. “If something comes available, I’ll let you know, okay?”

“Thanks again,” I tell her, walking down the steps toward my car.

I’m not sure what to expect when I show up at Colt’s like a stray, but I know I’ve run out of options. And for the first time in a long time, that doesn’t scare me half as much as it should.

I plug the address into my GPS, and it says I’m fifteen minutes away.

I take the long, dark road away from the B & B, and all I can think is,This is how women disappear.

All it takes is one bad decision, a dirt road, and an address written on paper.

My eyes stay on the side of the road, and I pass deer grazing, which doesn’t make me feel great. If one jumps out in front of my car, this thing is totaled. Would I survive the impact?

I haven’t seen another vehicle in ten minutes, which feels less like peace and more like I’m auditioning to be the main character of a true crime podcast episode. This feels like a massive, dusty, potentially life-threatening mistake. Being here, in the middle of nowhere, reminds me of how I tend to make decisions based on emotion.

I guess some things don’t change, but I don’t have regrets. While New York feels like a million miles away, I can’t return yet. I can’t face Donovan or Skye. I’m sure they’re consoling each other.

I ease the Camaro onto the dirt path like I might fall into the pits of hell. I’m currently one pothole away from losing a tire and the last shred of my patience I have left. There are no street signs, no lights, only a mailbox leaning at a forty-five-degree angle, like it’s halfway through a nervous breakdown.

Me too, mailbox.

My anxiety doesn’t loosen when I check the burner phone I bought in Missouri for emergency situations. I have two percent left and was stupid and didn’t purchase a phone charger for my car.

What if he’s not home? I guess I’ll sleep in the back seat.

As I travel down the road, feeling more isolated than I should, a little voice tells me I should turn around before I get in too deep with this man. Yesterday, I felt the instant attraction sizzling between us. Right now, I should do a hundred things,but mostly, I shouldn’t be following directions given to me by a woman I met yesterday.

Remi—with her brown hair, sharp blue eyes, and a voice like she doesn’t take shit from anyone—saw right through me. The first time I met her, she was polite and invited me inside. It wasn’t something I would’ve done. Then I saw him standing there like every bad decision I needed to make.

Colt Valentine.

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