Make Me Dream (The Sage Creek Series Book 1)

by Dillon Bancroft

  My front door swings open, and as I look over my shoulder from the sink, I see Nate stroll in and drops himself on a barstool and sigh.

  “Dude.”

  “What’s yours is mine, buddy,” Nate teases.

  “Do you want some pancakes?”

  Nate scrunches his nose and shakes his head.

  “Thanks, I’ve already eaten.”

  “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

  Sighing, he reaches for the bowl of leftover blueberries on the kitchen bar, popping a few in his mouth.

  “She’s pretty.”

  My lips thin at the implication.

  “Nate.”

  “I’m here to remind you what’s at stake. And I’m begging you to be professional. She’s the lynchpin in my case and if you fuck it up for me...”

  “I won’t fuck it up. We’re just friends. That’s it.”

  “She’s a good person, that’s all I’m saying. I’ve gotten to know her. She has fire even though she’s suppressing it. You have no idea the horrors she’s lived through. She helped me get the Dodges. I want to help her by giving her a second shot at life.”

  Third.

  “I need her to live. But I don’t want her to get hurt.”

  “Agent Olson?” Zoey’s timid voice echoes down the hallway.

  “It’s okay, Zo. Nobody else is here.”

  She breaks into a grin and races over to Nate, throwing her arms around him.

  “Hi, Uncle Nate. I missed you.”

  “I missed you too, gorgeous. I come bearing gifts too.” He reaches into his back pocket, taking out a rolled up paperback of Heartland and handing it off to Zoey who wrinkles her nose in disapproval at the state of the paperback.

  “Heartland?”

  “Someone in town told me this was a great series.”

  She grins.

  “I should be angry at you for rolling it up.”

  “Zoey,” I warn.

  “Thank you,” she replies gleefully. “So…I have to call you Agent Olson around Miss Aria?”

  Nate frowns. “For a little while.”

  “Is she in trouble?”

  Nate has always been good about keeping a lid on his job around Zoey. He loves her. So when she asks, I know he’ll respect the boundaries I’ve put in place to not bring shit home.

  “I’m keeping her safe,” he replies cautiously. “She’s one of the good guys, Zo.”

  She considers his words and drops her gaze to the book.

  “I like her. She’s nice.”

  Nate smirks and wraps her in a tight hug.

  She lifts her gaze to Nate and grins.

  “Where’s Eve?”

  Nate’s smile immediately wanes.

  “Zoey, it’s time for bed, sweetheart. Say goodnight.”

  Frowning, she wraps her arms around Nate’s neck and plants a small kiss on his cheek. She races back to her room, her light flicking on. She’ll be up for hours reading her books, and I don’t have the heart to shut the light off on her.

  I’m not a mind reader, but our life together has been content. With the exception of Emily constantly trying to pit us against each other, our life is drama free. Zoey doesn’t ask me about getting married again. In fact, we’ve fallen into a stable routine and my flavors of the night don’t get brought up.

  The secret is she doesn’t know about them.

  If I’m being honest, that’s the point.

  Nate turns to me and sighs bringing me out of my thoughts.

  “She’s not a one night stand kind of girl, Derek. She’s been through enough.”

  I throw my hands up in the air in frustration.

  “Dude! You guys are the ones who think I can’t keep it in my pants. I can exercise self-control, jackass. Besides, she already told me she’s off the market for good.”

  It should pacify him, but it doesn’t.

  How close have they gotten? He knows her predicament because of his job, but do they shoot the shit like Nate and I do?

  “Your track record isn’t great, forgive me.” He slides off the barstool and stretches. “This has to be kept on the downlow. If the bureau finds out about our connection, this is going to look too fishy.”

  “I can keep my trap shut, don’t you worry.”

  He glares at my indifference

  “Just…be careful. Stay vigilant. And keep an eye on her if I’m not around.”

  I want to know Aria McKenzie. I’ll help keep her safe for her parents’ sake, and I suppose for Nate’s.

  It won’t ever happen for us. I’m not looking for someone for Zoey to call mom and Aria isn’t looking for another man to boss her around. On paper, it’s a perfect reason to never be together, but I can’t for the life of me get her shy smile and those magnetic hazel eyes out of my head.

  12

  ARIA

  16 weeks pregnant…

  Sage Creek is one of those places you can find anything in. To promote tourism, we have chain restaurants out the wazoo, along with the mom and pop shops people come here for. The shopping is great—that is, if you don’t mind airing your business out to the town if you’re going to leave the next day anyway.

  I mind.

  And yet, I agree to take Olson out into the world, rather than our farm so he can eat something he didn’t cook for once—regardless of the rumor mill.

  Our waitress is a teenager who would rather be on her phone than giving customer service. It’s a distraction I welcome.

  He orders a bacon burger; I stick with a patty melt and tense up once she leaves to put our orders in. I’m eager to hear about the case. I want to know when I can bury him in the trial. So far, I’ve only head the investigation is ongoing.

  Maybe the evidence I passed along wasn’t enough to convict him.

  Or, and most likely, they’re hard at work paying off everyone who crosses their path.

  He smiles politely, passing me a straw to put in my sweet tea.

  “You’ve been keeping busy?” he asks, trying to break up the tension swirling in the air.

  “Yeah, I guess. I don’t mind helping out around the farm. Gives my mind something else to focus on.”

  “Has Charlie reached out to you?”

  His name sucks the pleasantries right up. It’s sickening. He’s the killjoy who lurks around even when he physically can’t be around.

  “I’m not sure. You have my phone.”

  He grimaces in annoyance, crumpling the straw paper into an accordion.

  “What about Charlotte? Has she tried to make contact since she showed up?”

  “No letters, no calls to either house, and she hasn’t shown up since.”

  He lays his hands flat on the table, seemingly wanting to reach out and comfort me, but thinks better of it.

  Good. As long as we can blast the memo of me not wanting to be touched, I can live the rest of my life in peace.

  “How are you doing?”

  My stomach gurgles with nausea. It’s the first time somebody has asked me how I was doing and was genuinely curious. My family tries to make me move on by not talking about Charlie. Jo has called Annie’s house every day to check in and asks about my progress with therapy.

  I still dream of him.

  At night, I force myself to stay awake as long as I possibly can until the sleep takes me. Where I think I can escape to happier memories of my childhood, but instead wind up his stepmother’s grave, or with Charlie’s hand tight around my throat, pressing me up against the front door while he shoves his hand in my panties and scratches his way into my vagina.

  “I’m fine.”

  Olson scoffs. “Aria.”

  “I don’t know. What do you want me to say?”

  His steely exterior softens as I banish unwelcome tears away.

  “Be honest with me.”

  “How can I be anything but terrified?”

  “He’s locked up on house arrest.”

  Scoffing, I push my drink to the middle of the table and lean back into
the booth. I can’t bother to meet his gaze. House arrest is a small hurdle and knowing Charlie he will somehow find a way around it.

  Why is it when a woman goes through the worst kind of trauma, everyone expects her to move on and repress those memories?

  Don’t you think I would if I could?

  “They are. But what about their associates?”

  Olson isn’t one to wear his emotions on his sleeve, but when he furrows his brow and drops his gaze as he loses himself in thought, I know he has the same suspicions I do.

  At least I’m not crazy.

  “I’d be naïve to think I’m safe with you. You can’t be awake twenty-four hours, seven days a week. My family can’t either. So where does that leave me?”

  When he doesn’t answer, the pit of dread consumes me. I already know I’m a sitting duck. A dead woman walking. If Charlie finds out I’m pregnant, it buys me time. Which makes it so detrimental he never finds out. I’d rather die with this child inside me where he won’t ever get to him, than give birth, have him kill me, and steal my child and have the cycle continue. I refuse.

  “You’re right. I can’t be up twenty-four-seven. But, I have rigged up all the houses on the property and they’ll alert me should anyone intrude. Your sister told me she had a gun in her nightstand. Do you know how to use it?”

  I roll my eyes. We’re farmers. Of course I know how to use a gun.

  “Yes.”

  “Prove it.”

  He isn’t serious, is he?

  “What?”

  “There’s a gun range around here, right?”

  There will be a ton of eyes there. Men who want to whip their dicks around to show they know more than I do. Men who will condescendingly put their hands on my waist to show me the right way to stand.

  The thought of hands has me heading for the hills. I’ll take my chances with the outdated knowledge of pointing and shooting from when I was a kid.

  But…he’s right. It would be helpful to have a refresher. Just in case Charlie gets brave and tries to steal me under the veil of nightfall.

  “Aria?”

  “We have a vacant pasture. We could shoot there.”

  Our food is placed in front of us, and suddenly, I’m not hungry anymore. The jellybean inside of me demands food, however, if I take one bite, I’ll vomit all over this table.

  “Okay. I can get it set up. Do you have targets?”

  Shrugging, and reluctantly shoving a fry in my mouth, I answer with a full mouth, “Bales of hay?”

  He thinks to himself.

  “I know a guy. I’ll get us some targets and we’ll practice today. You don’t leave until I know you won’t miss.”

  My tongue feels like sandpaper. The food in my mouth tastes like ash. Growing up, Daddy was the one to teach all of us how to use and clean a gun. We never thought we’d have to use it.

  Now…there’s a real possibility I could take someone’s life away before they take mine. It gives me a strange sense of peace and debilitating fear all at the same time.

  Charlie had a gun. He liked to torture me with Russian Roulette. Whenever he deemed me disobedient or in the way, he’d take it from the safe, plaster me against the wall and place the barrel in my mouth.

  He pulled the trigger, only to reveal he never loaded the damn thing.

  I always prayed for death.

  After lunch, Olson drops me off at Annie’s house while he gathers the things we need for target practice. I feel weird walking around my sister’s house, digging through her belongings when she isn’t here. But alas, I find the Sig Sauer at the bottom of the drawer—with the safety off.

  Oh, Annie.

  I scoff, quickly flipping the safety on, carrying the cold metal in my hands carefully down the hall. A part of me is miffed it was lying so carelessly at the bottom of the drawer. People get killed all the time because of negligence. I love my sister, but holy crap.

  What the hell am I supposed to do with this, anyway? I have no holster, and only God knows what Annie did with the case it came with.

  I set it on the counter and text my mother that my babysitter and I will be shooting in the pasture, not to be alarmed.

  Who the hell am I kidding? She’s going to be alarmed regardless.

  My phone buzzes in my back pocket. Every time the damn thing goes off, my body automatically locks up. That niggling fear in the back of my mind, nagging me to pick up the phone because there are consequences if I don’t comply.

  Which is why shooting is so fucking important right now.

  “Hey, Peanut! How’s everything going?”

  I smile at Annie’s voice. I miss my sister, and I’m also insanely jealous she gets to spend time in Canada while I can’t leave the damn country.

  “I’m good. How is Canada?”

  “So much poutine,” she groans and giggles. “It’s beautiful here. I’m putting my French to use.”

  “I thought you only knew the one phrase.”

  She laughs again. I can picture her in the middle of a cobblestone street, smiling like the weight of the world isn’t on her shoulders, her blonde hair flowing with the wind. I wish I were her. Just for a day.

  “Well, that’s true. But the magazine sent a translator with me. She’s cool, I guess. She thinks my accent is embarrassing.”

  I hop up on the bar stool.

  “Is there something you needed?”

  I want to take back the words before they even left my mouth. I’m an idiot.

  “Geez, Louise, I was calling you because I miss you.”

  Right. Because people can miss you without getting possessive.

  “I’m sorry. I miss you too. I’m having a crappy day.”

  Annie hums while she tries to find the right words.

  “Do you want to talk about it?”

  Absolutely not.

  “Thanks, but no. I’m meeting Olson in a little bit. We’re shooting in the front pasture so I should probably wrap this up.”

  She sighs.

  “Peanut, please don’t shut me out. I just got you back.” Shutting her out keeps her safe, no matter how much I miss her.

  “I won’t, I promise. I’ll call you tonight before I go to bed.”

  “No. FaceTime me. I want to see your face.”

  Not likely.

  I wrap up the call, shove the phone back into my pocket and step out onto the front porch. I crash onto her porch swing, carelessly tossing the gun on the cushion next to me.

  We’re in April, and it’s starting to heat up. The gentle breeze brings me balance, while the silence brings me fear. There’s nothing amiss here.

  It’s equally a relief and disconcerting.

  Dr. Hawthorn’s truck starts down the driveway. I get a brief glimpse of him through the driver’s side window while he talks angrily on the phone. This angry demeanor is something I’ve only seen once: that one time when we first met.

  Although I found his little outburst comical, I don’t want to be on the receiving end of his wrath.

  He gets out of the truck and slams the door.

  “You’re being unreasonable!” It’s the only sentence he shouts until he closes himself inside of his house.

  Olson steps outside my house, his holster on his belt and closes the distance to Dr. Hawthorn’s house, knocking on the door.

  Is this the guy he was talking about?

  He answers the door, a scowl on his face. They talk for a minute, and then they disappear into the house together.

  I curl my legs under me and allow the wind to gently move the swing. I wonder how Charlie is doing with house arrest. How many people has he bullied? Will the board still keep him on when he’s under so much scrutiny? Are their stocks plummeting?

  I hope so. What I wouldn’t give to be a fly on the wall as they plead for his sorry life.

  Were they surprised to find out I was the one who took a wrecking ball to their reputation? Did they even suspect I was working against them from the second Charlie laid a hand on m
e?

  I may not have been able to escape right away, or get law enforcement involved, but I made plans. Olson was the one who learned my patterns and found me at the grocery store while I was shopping.

  He’s my savior. The freer of chains. His girlfriend—ex-girlfriend—must be so proud.

  “You ready?” I straighten up at Olson’s voice. It takes me a few seconds to register Dr. Hawthorn’s ornery glare.

  “Um, yeah. I’m ready.” I grab the gun off the cushion which makes both men leap a few paces back. “Calm down. I’m not flagging you and the safety’s on.”

  Olson strides over and takes the piece out of my hand, inspecting it.

  “Don’t you have a case for it?” Dr. Hawthorn asks, inspecting it right after Olson does.

  “It’s not mine. It’s Annie’s. Mine’s stashed away in my dad’s closet.” And there was no way I was going to waltz into my parents’ house demanding a gun. It wouldn’t end well.

  Dr. Hawthorn’s dark eyebrow arches in the most Betty Lou way.

  “Be glad you weren’t the one who fished it out of her nightstand. The safety wasn’t even on.”

  Olson groans and Dr. Hawthorn scowls.

  “Well, let’s go. Derek’s allowing us to use his targets.”

  I instantly freeze.

  He’s coming?

  Olson looks at me expectantly, silently urging me on, because I’m the one holding the whole party up.

  “Do you have any objections?”

  I reluctantly shake my head, but I do. I have so many objections. The first one is the neighbor with the adorable daughter who has been watching me with…strange eyes. Strange, but exhilarating in a weird way.

  I hop in the back of Dr. Hawthorn’s truck and move the stack of books I assume are Zoey’s over a few inches.

  A smile spreads on my lips. I love that she reads. As Dr. Hawthorn drives, I peek through the stack, impressed with the selection she chose. It warms my heart Heartland is the first book on top. The next time she’s over, I’ll have to bring her the next book in the series. I find her copy of Holes, a kid version of Pride and Prejudice, and a tattered copy of Because of Winn Dixie.