Page 19 of DFF: Delicate Freakin' Flower

“Well,”I tossed her a towel and a plastic jug, “how do you feel about taking a bath?”

Her eyes lit up briefly, then narrowed. “Wait, is this like an actual bath?”

I pointed out back. “Sort of.”

“Sort of?”

“We’ve got a bucket, the well pump, a place to stand, and privacy.”

She looked at me like I’d just suggested a sacrificial ritual.

“Gabby,”I said flatly, “you’ve been sweating for two days, and you currently smell like panic, eggs, and fear. It’s either a bucket bath, or I dump you in the well.”

Her mouth opened and closed, andthen she grabbed the towel and stomped toward the door.

“This better not awaken something in me,”she muttered.

Ten minutes later, she came back inside, dripping and wrapped in the towel like a defeated burrito.

Her hair was soaked, her legs were wet, and her face was pink from cold water and what I guessed was an emotional reckoning.

“That,”she hissed, setting the bucket down with dramatic finality, “was the most humbling experience of my adult life.”

I nodded solemnly. “It always is.”

She collapsed into the chair by the fire, pulled the blanket off the back, and wrapped herself up like a cocoon. Then she went quiet.

I didn’t push, knowing that whatever was on her mind was best left to her saying it when she wanted to.

Eventually, she spoke. “I didn’t run because I was scared of Maddox.”

I didn’t turn, just listened as she spoke. “I mean, I was, but not at first. I thought I was being careful. I backed up everything and sent copies to three people—two of whom I trust and one I know would have a panic attack if anything happened to it. I’d watched him, and I had proof. Enough to make noise, maybe even enough to bury him if the right people paid attention.”

She paused as I glanced back. Her eyes were on the fire, and her face was unreadable.

“But then they came to my house.”

My spine stiffened at the thought of her being so vulnerable.

“They tried to get in, but I caught them on my security cameras and could see they were armed. They didn’t get in—the place is basically a panic box—but they were organized and tactical. It wasn’t a scare tactic anymore, it was like a retrieval mission.”

“Jesus,” I muttered.

She nodded. “I knew if I stayed, they’d come back better prepared, and I couldn’t risk them catching me before I figured out where to go. So, I grabbed my drives, turned off my phone, bought a burner, and ran.”

She looked over at me finally, her voice quieter now. “You were the only person I could think of who’d take me seriously and not call the cops or try to fix it with, like feelings and group chats.”

I didn’t say anything right away. I just looked at her, this woman who, twenty-four hours ago, I would’ve said was shy, sweet, and harmless.

Now, I wasn’t so sure. There was steel under that sunburn and fight beneath the sarcasm and fear.

And she was trusting me with it.

“Thank you,” she said, almost too softly to hear.

I nodded once. “You did the right thing coming here.”

She gave a half-smile. “Even with the spiders?”

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