Page 34 of The Way Back Home

Sheriff Webb leans back in her chair, sipping from a coffee mug as she pretends I’m not here. That’s a habit for the occupants of this town—pretend like the angry cripple isn’t standing right in front of you, and maybe he’ll get pissed off and go away.Not this time.

I lean over the counter and ring the bell. Their receptionist doesn’t appear to be in today. Sheriff looks at me, and then takes another sip of her coffee, so I ring the bell again. Still nothing. I raise my hand to ring it a third time, and she says, “August Cotton, you ding that bell once more and, war hero or not, I’m-a shove it up your ass. Now what can I do for you?”

I toss the tape on the counter. “Olivia Anders bought the shelter on Highway 98.”

“Mmhmm, I know it.”

“It was vandalized,” I say. She doesn’t get up from her seat, and I don’t budge. “You might wanna take a look at the tape. Figure you know the perpetrators real well.”

Her eyes narrow into hard slits, and she leans forward. “What are you sayin’, Mr. Cotton?”

“Look at the tape. I’m pretty sure neither one of their parents can afford to pay Olivia damages, so you might wanna come up with a suitable punishment.”

She chuckles, but there is not a trace of humor in it. “Might I?”

“Yep, I reckon you will.”

She gives me a smile that doesn’t touch her eyes, and I turn to leave. “How did you get the job of bringing this to my attention? I’m surprised Miss Priss didn’t storm in here crying and carryin’ on about the dogs and how we’re all bad townsfolk for not offering to help our veterans.”

“Don’t call her that,” I warn, and she tucks her hands into her belt with a smug smile and a huffing noise. “She’s good people, and she don’t deserve your hostility. Hell, she don’t even know I’m here. She wanted to just forget it happened, but it ain’t right.”

She studies me with a shrewd gaze. “Why would she do that?”

“Because that’s the kind of person she is,” I say. “Olivia doesn’t have to be here. She came here to help our town.”

“And has she helped you, August?”

I turn away and make for the door, but I pause with my hand on the knob.

“More than you know,” I answer back in a whisper, too quiet for her to really hear me. “You make this right, Shona, or I’ll be paying a visit to your brother about your nephew and his friend.”

I wipe the perspiration from my brow as I open the door and step out into the thick ’Bama heat. It’s not even ten a.m. and already I’m sweating like a man walking through the gates of hell. Funny thing is, I was just fine before Sheriff Webb started asking questions. I was fine before Olivia Anders showed up. Now? Everything is shot to fucking shit, and I don’t know what the hell I’m supposed to do about it.

***

WHEN I PULL IN THEdrive, Olivia’s bike is resting up against the porch of the shelter, and I smile to myself. I don’t know why. I don’t know how I make up for what I did to her yesterday. It ain’t safe to be around her. Hell, even if I wasn’t fucked up from war it wouldn’t be safe to be around her anyway. That woman is dangerous. I never met a girl who got under my skin more than her. I never met a girl I couldn’t walk away from.

I haven’t even known her long. I don’t know anything about her except she’s as stubborn as a mule, and her heart is bigger and more pure than anyone’s I’ve ever met. Something in her, something bruised and hurt and ruined by the world calls to me, and I can’t get her outta my head. It’s been an awful long time since I wanted to lie with a woman, and she makes me forget why I can’t have her. All I see is her. All I want is her. But I can’t even bring myself to be honest about not being complete. I ain’t whole anymore. And I ain’t a man women like Olivia want to take to their bed. I’m the thing they run from. And I’d hurt her in the end. Something tells me she’s been hurt enough.

I climb out of the cab and head inside. Olivia has her back to me, earbuds in, and her hair tied up with a red bandana. She’s shakin’ her ass, and fuck me if it isn’t nearly impossible not to walk on over there and rip those little short shorts from her body. Instead, I lean in the doorjamb and watch her shimmy as she works and sings off-key. She shouldn’t be out here by herself, listening through her headphones.Fuck me dead. Anyone could walk on in here and take her against her will, and there’d be no one to come to her aid.Goddamn it. What is it with this woman? Why the hell doesn’t she have any regard for her own safety? Throw her in the lion’s den and she’d likely have her hand taken off trying to pet the damn thing.Or make it open up to her.

Olivia turns around with an arm full of plasterboard to dump into our pile in the middle of the room, her gaze meets mine and she jumps about a mile in the air, clutching her hand against her chest.

“Oh my God, you scared the shit outta me.”

“You know how many women are attacked every day because they listen to music through earbuds?” I say impatiently, thinking she should know this shit already. “You can’t hear an assailant coming.”

She smiles. “And here I thought I was safe in Magnolia Springs.”

I give her a look. “You never know who’s lurking around corners.”

“That’s true,” she says. “Most of the time we never know who’s standing right in front of us either.”

I nod, because she’s right. A little of the anger leaves me, and then my gaze drifts to the marks on her throat. I clench my jaw so hard my teeth creak. “How are you doin’ today?”

Her hand automatically closes around her neck, as if I wouldn’t notice the dark bruises marring her snow-white flesh. It was the first thing I saw last night when she walked into the house, and the only thing I saw later when I had her pressed against my bedroom wall and wanted to kiss her with everything I had. It’s why I didn’t kiss her, ’cause any man capable of hurting a woman the way I hurt her has no right to be putting his mouth on hers.

“I’m fine,” she says with a tight smile.

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