Page 3 of Sweetheart and the Grouch
She sets her jaw as she looks to her little sister. “Nineteen.”
“OK.” I slide my cell back into my pocket. “Looks like we’re getting somewhere now. How about we keep up this honesty by you tellin’ me where your parents are and why you two are up here alone?”
Ainsley’s eyes flash before she turns to her sister who’s tugging on her arm. “Tell him. I think he wants to help us.”
Rolling her lips in contemplation, she lets out a sigh then looks back to me. “They’re dead, OK? Our parents are dead and I’m all Ellie has. If you call the cops, they’ll take her from me and put her in foster care.”
“Maybe that’s the better place for her?”
“It’s not,” she says, laughing without humor. “It’s really not. Please, sir. Please just let us be on our way. I promise I’m not trespassing. We’ve rented a cabin up here, and I have the paperwork and the keys in my pack.”
“A cabin? Who from?”
“Dylan Valentine. It’s all legit. I spoke to his wife, Millie just last week. I’ve paid two months in advance and everything.” She reaches into the front pocket of her pack and pulls out a folded wad of paper. I snatch it from her and check it over.
“Dylan is my brother,” I say, scanning the lease agreement before handing it back to her. “He didn’t mention a tenant was moving into his old place.”
“I don’t know what to tell you, dude. Maybe he didn’t think it was any of your business since it’shisplace and all.”
I assess her for a long moment, trying to work out whether I should help her myself or wash my hands of whatever this is and get the cops involved. Foster care or not, these two up here doesn’t sit right with me. People seek the solitude of the mountains for one of two reasons—they’re society’s outcasts, or they’re running from something. These girls have ‘running’ written all over them.
Letting out a heavy breath, I make my decision when I reach down and lift both the pack and the suitcase off the dirt.
“Hey! What are you doing with our stuff?” Ainsley shouts as I start walking toward my truck.
“Helping you,” I say, tossing the luggage into the back. “Get in and I’ll take you to your cabin.”
“Get in?” Ainsley says, her arm shooting out to block Ellie who was just a second away from running right to me.
“Yeah. Get in,” I say, pulling the passenger door open.
“How do I know you're not a murderer or something?” she asks, still blocking Ellie.
It’s my turn to roll my eyes. “I’m not.”
“Thatexactlywhat a murdererwouldsay,” she retorts, tossing a little of my own smartass attitude back at me. It actually makes me crack a smile.
“Listen, I don’t know what to say here, except that you look tired, it’s gonna be dark soon and walkin’ along this road at night isn’t safe. I’m just tryin’ to be neighborly.”
“Neighborly?”
“Yeah. We’re neighbors. My place is the cabin right next to yours. I’m Ajax, by the way. Ajax Valentine.”
“Please, Ains,” Ellie says to her sister. “I don’t think I can walk anymore.”
Ainsley sighs. “Fine. But if we end up dead, I’m gonna hold you responsible,” she says, making the younger sister laugh as she holds up her pinky.
“OK,” she says as Ainsley hooks little fingers with her. The sibling display makes me smile, remembering simpler times with my brothers and cousins before the big, bad world got its claws in us and sent us deeper into the mountain. Like I said, people move to the mountain for one of two reasons. And the Valentines are no exception to that rule.
AINSLEY
“That waswaymore than a hundred steps,” Elena says as she hops down from the truck’s cabin, her shoes creating tiny clouds of dust as she hits the ground.
“Guess I thought we were closer than we were,” I say, turning to look at the tiny cabin I rented via a social media listing. I had fears it was going to turn out to be a dump, but it looks exactly like its photos—neat, tidy and off the beaten track. “What do you think?”
“I like the sunflower garden,” Elena says, pointing to the neat row of tall sunflowers planted in front of the porch. They kind of act as a privacy screen and make the place look really cute.
“My sister-in-law, Millie—that’s Dylan’s wife—is slightly obsessed,” Ajax says as he comes around the back of the truck with our bags in hand. “You’ll find there’s a sunflower farm about a quarter mile that way.” He nods toward the tree line to the right of the cabin. “That’s where Dylan and Millie live and work. They were using this place as his sculpting workshop for a while, but I guess they decided to revert it back to a cabin and lease it out.”
