I delivered her nightly hot chocolate. She answered the door after I'd already left. One day, I returned from stalking the stupid mountain lion to find lunch—tomato soup and a delicious turkey breast with swiss cheese sandwich—left in tinfoil on my table. When she disappeared in her car for a few hours, I restocked her firewood and de-iced her path.
Like we wanted to live around each other for a while but not be with each other.
On a random Thursday that shivered with sleet, I shoved a hand through my hair and groaned into my phone. “Justin, just bring your dog back. I don't care if you move in with Megan, I just want Atticus.”
His rolling voice laughed. “I'm glad to know where we stand.”
“Don't act like you thought you ranked above your dog.”
“Never.”
“The stupid mountain lion is back and growing bolder. I need another animal around. I wouldn't care as much if it were just me, but I have a . . . friend staying here now.”
Interest piqued his voice. “Oh?”
“Yeah, I have friends outside of you ugly buggers.”
He laughed again. “Good to know. With such a rosy personality, I'm not surprised. How close has the big kitty gotten?”
I frowned and glanced out the window. Leaves scuttled by on the dry ground, stirred up by a brief vortex of wind.
“Prowled outside the kitchen for a while, but no claw marks on the door. The tracks are pretty clear until they disappear back toward the lake. It seems curious, not hungry, but I don't want it to get used to this place. I can't bring campers here when there's a giant cat prowling around.”
With a shudder, I recalled last summer, Adventura's first year open, when Atticus had gone missing. My little sister, Megan, found him up the canyon with slash marks on his ribs. She carried him back on her shoulders and saved his life. Justin always joked that that’s when he’d fallen in love with her. I'd always assumed Atticus had chased off a black bear and gotten in a fight, but now I wasn't so certain.
“Silly kitten,” Justin murmured. “We're coming back soon, I promise. Watch close at dusk, keep the garbage tight.”
“Yes, Mom.” I rolled my eyes. “Of course I'm doing all that. The garbage is all inside. I need slashing, angry dog teeth.”
“Good. We'll be back soon.”
A knock sounded on the door when I ended the call a few minutes after getting updates on my sister—who never called now that she had Justin but thought it was acceptable to update me on her life through him. That would never be acceptable and Megan and I would have words over it.
Stella pushed the door open a few inches and peered inside.
“Mark?”
“Come in.”
Her hair was pulled away from her face. She wore a pair of jeans and a black pullover that brightened the light streaks of blond behind her ears.
“I need to run to the store.” She jerked a thumb outside. “Need anything?”
I held up my hand where my keys dangled from my finger. “Just leaving myself. Ride with me? We can go in together. There's a winter storm warning for tomorrow night. A little snow, but mostly ice in the canyon. I need to stock up on a few things in case we lose power.”
She blinked. “Is losing power here a thing?”
I nodded. “Oh yeah.”
She hesitated for a moment, eyed her car, then mine, and finally nodded with a shrug that suggested she thought she went to her death. I'd be offended if I didn't get it. My truck would give a person tetanus if they just looked at it.
Still, it was a dependable old tanker.
“Sure,” she said. “Thanks.”
The Zombie Mobile rumbled as I steered it down the dirt road toward the highway. It wasn't quite 11:00, which gave us time to get supplies before the rush of Pineville citizens got off work. We’d grab something for lunch on the way home.
With nothing to talk about, we said little. While I might miss having people around—mostly JJ and Lizbeth, ‘cause they were special—that didn't mean I wanted small talk. Stella didn't seem inclined either, and the companionable silence took us all the way into Pineville.
Once we rumbled down Main Street, which was the largest of three roads in Pineville, I pointed out the very few landmarks. “Grocery store on the left,” I said. “The Frolicking Moose on the right. Great coffee. But they're finalizing renovations after a fire last winter and will hopefully open soon. The Diner is our main restaurant and the bar is just down the road. The pizza place is total crap.”
A sign that said Under Construction hung across the porch of the Frolicking Moose as we passed. Inside, a few bodies bustled around.
While we walked through the grocery store parking lot, Stella spun around, looking all around her. The reservoir that drew people into Pineville in the summer, and ice fishermen in the winter, hadn't iced over yet. Dark waters and mountains decorated the background behind us. Seemingly satisfied, she faced forward again with a sheepish little smile.
“Bank?” she asked.
I tilted my head across the road as we stepped inside the grocery store. “Just over there. Want to share a cart?”
“Sure.”
The wheels on the cart issued high-pitched squeals as I pushed it around the produce, tossing bananas, apples, and salad into bags and slinging them into the cart. She followed behind, carefully inspected each piece of fruit—grapes, avocado, and organic blueberries—before setting them inside.
When I reached for the instant hot chocolate box down another aisle, she put out a hand to stop me. “That is utter trash,” she said. “It's not that hard to make. I'll get the ingredients.”
“You'll own my heart.”
She snorted.
While she gathered powdered milk, cocoa powder, creamer, and sugar, I tossed some protein bars and BBQ potato chips inside.
“See?” She gestured to the ingredients as if I was born in a barn. “It's not that hard. But those chips will probably give you a
