Page 15 of Ozzie

The familiar cabin comes into view, and Durango parks in front of the house. It’s late by the time we arrive. Durango instructs me to sit on the couch while he brings in our bags.

Once he’s done, he sits beside me.

I yawn. “I’d like to go to sleep. Sorry for crashing on you so early.”

He stretches his arms over his head and yawns. “That’s fine. I’m tired too. I’ll go make up the beds.”

While he does that, I change into my pajamas. I crawl into bed, and it’s heaven. The sheets are so soft. I drift off quickly.

The next morning, I wake up early. I go to the living room and sit in a chair with a view of the lake. The sun is out giving the illusion it’s warmer than it really is in January. Part of me wants to go down to the lake but with John looking for me, I probably shouldn’t go outside.

Durango walks through. “Oh, hey, you’re up. I’m going to have groceries delivered so we don’t have to go out.”

I nod and turn back to the lake. This is what I want someday: a house on a lake away from the city where I can relax. Suddenly, I’m struck with an idea. I find my suitcase and grab the notebook and pencil. It’s something I always pack, even though I haven’t used it in a couple of years.

But the tune in my head won’t stop. I return to the chair, jot down the notes, and hum along.

“Piper,” Durango says.

I glance up to see him smiling.

“You’re writing music again?”

I used to jot down tunes and write lyrics all the time. I even sang some at the county fair back home in Montana. Once I began dating John, I lost inspiration. I guess that should have been a sign. But it was all so gradual I didn’t notice. It’s been two years since I’ve written anything.

“I am. This place is good for me. It inspires me.” I turn my attention back to the journal and keep writing.

A crash from a back room tears me from what I’m doing.

“Dammit!” Durango shouts.

“You all right?”

“Yeah, I will be.” He steps out of the hallway and into the living room, holding an acoustic guitar. “Lightning told me he had this in the back room. He failed to mention the boxes he had piled up in there were as structurally sound as a Jenga pile at the end of a game.”

I take the guitar. “Thank you.” I strum a few times and discover it’s out of tune, but I’m able to tune it by ear. Then I play the song I’ve been working on.

“That’s beautiful.”

“Wait till I get some lyrics for it.”

Someone knocks on the door, and I jump.

“It should be the groceries. Stay here,” he says. He checks the window before he opens the door. “How the hell did you know we were here?”

Ozzie walks in, and suddenly, my day is brighter.

“Piper texted me.” He spots me and walks over. “How’s your leg?” He kneels down, staring at my leg. There isn’t much to see other than the bandage.

“It still hurts.”

He stands. “Are you taking ibuprofen every four hours?”

I shake my head. “I forgot to pack it.”

He grins, then pulls a bottle out of his coat pocket. “Figured you might. Here.” He hands it to me.

I stare up at this man, amazed. “How could you know I would forget it? Did you stop and buy some?”

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