Today had been the worst day, truly. Although if Jenn was being really honest, the past month had been the worst month of her life.
Everything that went down back home in Wisconsin aside - Jenn would just as soon not think about all of that right now - the logistics of such a hasty move across the country on a basically non-existent budget had been hell. Absolutely a stress-fueled frenzy full of sleepless nights (or the ever-present night terrors if she did manage to fall asleep), little food (that non-existent budget hurt everywhere), and an ever-present terror that she wouldn''t make it out in time.
And now, after two days of driving, trying to sleep in the backseat of her car at a rest stop when she was too exhausted to keep going, she had reached her new home – the only option she''d been given that was far enough away and remote enough. The U-Haul had beat her there – and she was glad that the court-hired (and paid for) movers had been professional and courteous to her, and then she saw the state of her new home.
Ugh.
Jenn was really, really not having a good day. Or year. Life, if she was being honest. She looked at the overgrown yard, the grass faded with autumn''s arrival. Half-dead shrubbery and other plant life reached clawing limbs out of the uneven ground as if desperately clinging to life despite the coming winter. A stepping-stone walkway up to the cabin was sunken in, overgrown, and covered in moss and grime.
But the disrepair of the yard was the least of her concerns because the cabin that she intended to call home was looking more like a...
“Son of a bitch, I''m moving into a crack house,” Jenn moaned, resting her head on the steering wheel of her shitty old Neon and turning to cast her eyes to the cat in the soft carrier on the passenger seat beside her. She looked at the animal through a curtain of her wavy blonde hair, and puffed a breath out, trying to move the strands aside and clear her vision.
“Well Kylie, we''re in the shit for real now, babe,” she said ruefully, and the tortoiseshell cat peered up at her with wide eyes, letting out a mournful ''meow'' as if in solemn agreement.
Jenn sighed, turning off her car and with it the high-pitched whining noise (more of a scream, really) that had been coming from her engine - shrill and frankly, super embarrassing in the cold mountain air.
She slipped out of her seat belt and climbed out of the car with a groan, standing up for the first time in at least six hours.
As she stretched, hands on her hips and leaning back with a moan, she took in the cabin with wary blue eyes. It didn''t look any better from this angle, that was for sure.
The place was tiny, only about 700 sq feet, and that was fine – she had accepted the place sight unseen, but she''d been given the details. And the photos from about 30 years ago, when it had last been in regular use. Apparently, the cabin had been abandoned since and had only failed to be condemned because it still had running water (in the form of a well, the point driven deep into the aquifer inside the mountain). Sure, the provided information hadn''t inspired much confidence in the residence, but honestly...
The front porch was probably still technically considered usable, although the wood looked brittle and unstable in several places, covered in slick moss. The rusty screen door hung crooked, off of one hinge, the screen just absent entirely, and the roof was covered in moss, the shingles peeling at the edges away from the eaves that were clearly falling apart, either rotted through or eaten by termites.
The paint looked, by the small spots of it still remaining on the wooden plank siding, to have once been white, but the prevailing color of the monstrosity of a cabin was gray. Just gray, weathered, and dirty.
She hadn''t even gone inside yet and she already knew that whatever the government had ended up paying for this place, it was too much. Way, way too much. They''d told her that someone could come to fix the place up in the spring, “free of charge”, but with the timing so close to winter, in a location so remote... it was the best they could do. And Jenn didn''t have the luxury of waiting, so... here she was.You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.
She cast her eyes past the horror show of her new home, taking in the dense trees surrounding the large, roughly circular area that had been cut into the huge forest here on the mountain range. In the distance, large snow-covered peaks reached towards the heavens, nearly forming a basin of sorts between them, where she now stood. Save for the thin dirt road that had led to the long, winding drive to the lot, there was no other sign of civilization as far as the eye could see – the closest people, the closest man-made touch, was the small town nearly 70 miles south.
She spun in place, looking past the large cluster of trees on either side of her bumpy, overgrown driveway. The ground rose in a rocky outcropping, and just beyond, on the higher elevation of the plateau before her, she could see the peak of another roof – one that looked much more well-maintained than hers.
She could hear - beyond the idling motor of the moving truck - the sound of birds, of insects, of the forest, and she felt an overwhelming urge to just walk into the trees, forget everything that she''d escaped, everything that was to come, and just-
She froze, the hair on the back of her neck standing up suddenly. Jenn had learned long ago how to be attuned to her body''s reactions, trusting her gut above all else in a life where one wrong move could lead to severe consequences. And she could feel it – she was being watched.
Her head snapped around, eyes wide and lips parted as she drew quick breaths through her mouth, heartbeat thundering in her chest as adrenaline surged throughout her body.
They couldn''t have found her, not here, not already, the FBI sent her here – witness protection isn''t a joke, it can''t be them, it can''t be him-
She finally found her observer – a man was standing just down the long dirt drive from her, barely visible from behind the edge of the rocky ledge that separated their properties.
He stood with his hands in his pockets, chin angled slightly down as he stared at her. Even at the distance between them, she could feel his eyes boring into her, and her breath stuttered at the intensity of his gaze.
She brought a hand to her chest for a moment, tearing her eyes away from the stranger and walking to the other side of the car. She opened the passenger door and pulled the soft carrier out, slipping the strap over her shoulder before reaching into the backseat for her duffle bag.
Bumping the door shut with her hip, Jenn began walking toward the dilapidated front porch of her new home, resolutely not looking back at the strange man who had been staring. The way he''d looked at her had been too unnerving, and she couldn''t handle any of it right now.
She had not been told that there would be anyone else around when the agents had told her about the new home they''d found for her. They had told her all about how it was roughly an hour''s drive to the next people in the small town of Redding and had even sent her to some wilderness survival camp for a weekend to learn how to live in the remote cabin alone through the winter, in case of emergencies.
Either this guy was here from the agency to make sure she settled in okay, or they had deliberately not told her that she''d have a neighbor. There was no other explanation.
And that guy did not look like any agent she''d ever seen.
He was huge. She could tell that even being so far away. He must be tall, his shoulders were broad and muscular, and the raw strength of him was not hidden at all even by his heavy flannel jacket.
His hair was cut short on the sides, with a natural volume on top in the way of slight curls, and the dark color had taken on a very slight amber glow at the tips in the fall sunlight.
Thick stubble, quickly turning to a true beard graced his strong jawline and above his lips, decently well groomed and dark.
And clear as day across the left side of his face, crossing over his eye were two scars, parallel lines gouged across his flesh. Well-healed, but still visible there against his sun-tanned skin.
Jenn pushed the door open, hearing it squeak in protest-it probably hadn''t been opened in years, and she cringed.
Stepping inside, the house smelled musty, the air stale. Thankfully, the place didn''t look nearly as terrible inside as she had feared. The walls were wide planks, with no drywall to be seen. Painted white, it cracked and peeled in several spots throughout. The popcorn ceiling was almost definitely asbestos, she figured, but it was all intact, so that was a plus.
The floors were hardwood and while they had certainly seen much better days, she had a feeling that a good scrubbing and polishing would actually have them looking almost halfway decent. They seemed solid, in any case.
The movers had been putting her furniture in roughly the right areas, and in such an incredibly small space, it was truly hard for them to get much wrong. She put Kylie''s carrier down on the coffee table and began to move things into place, falling into the routine of moving in, the stranger outside soon forgotten in favor of trying to rebuild her life.