Slow Burn (Rabun County Book 1)

by Lisa Clark O'Neill

  Like Adeline Walker.

  Sutton wasn’t entirely sure why she popped into his head at that precise moment. Maybe because she wasn’t his usual type – and that was even before last night’s conversation. Maybe because so much about her should have suggested he proceed with caution, but he kept proceeding anyway. Maybe, he thought, an unexpected smile lifting the corners of his mouth, because the bright red leaves fluttering down onto the road reminded him of her hair.

  Jesus. His smile faded as he remembered the reason he was out and about and able to watch the leaves. If he liked her – which he really, really did – he should probably leave her alone. For her own sake.

  The houses alongside the road came further apart, eventually disappearing altogether, and the terrain grew more rugged. Away from the towns, little changed in these more unpopulated parts of Rabun County. Aside from nature enthusiasts and people driving through from one place to another, this corner of the state was largely public land and uninhabited wilderness. Old growth trees sheltered rocky creeks lined with mountain laurel, most of which spilled into the deep gorge that housed the wild and scenic Chattooga River. Despite the chilly air, Sutton rolled down the window partway and listened to the water rushing over the rocks.

  He’d missed it, he realized. The sense of being the only person for miles. Because while he’d never been exactly unsociable, there was a part of him, both mind and soul, that craved this sort of solitude. His time in the world of epidemiology had taught him that scientific research required far more people skills than one might expect, especially for someone whose primary focus was animal populations. And while he’d reluctantly developed those skills – at least, he hoped he had – it felt good to tuck them away for a while, and return to his roots. He’d spent a lot of alone time out here, particularly as a teen. He wouldn’t quite call it middle child syndrome, but there were definitely times with his highly social and extraverted family that he felt like the odd man out. His mom blamed it on her dad, the naturalist. She always claimed, only half-jokingly, that he’d felt more at home with various forms of fungus than he had with his wife and kids.

  Sutton smiled again, feeling a surge of fondness for his grandpa. He missed him, and not simply because he’d been his obvious favorite.

  Was it normal to feel this… lost, he wondered, especially in such familiar surroundings?

  Shaking his head, Sutton half wished he were back in his lab at the CDC, studying the latest zoonotic virus mutation. H1N1 might be deadly, but it felt more manageable than his unruly emotions.

  A sign alongside the road indicated he was approaching the Warwoman Dell recreation area. Featuring a series of hiking trails of varying degrees of difficulty, it had been a favorite place of his in high school due to its proximity to town, while offering so much potential for escape. He’d done his fair share of typical teenage stuff. Hanging out at the lake, sneaking beer and cigarettes. But he’d spent far more time sitting by waterfalls, nursing various hurts and blows to his ego, and thinking Big Thoughts about the future. And while many of those thoughts had become goals he’d achieved – that carefully planned life trajectory – a number of things had turned out vastly different from what he’d imagined. He’d expected, by this age, he’d be married with two or three kids, some acreage and a pack of animals.

  Instead he was Typhoid Tim, bunking at his parents’ place with a psychotic cat.

  Without thinking about what he was doing, he yanked the steering wheel to the left and headed down the bumpy, narrow gravel road. This was definitely something that hadn’t changed over the years, more’s the pity. At least they’d had rain recently, tamping down the dust, because he remembered after previous visits his car looking like it’d been rolled in dirty flour.

  Surprisingly, given that the general area was full of tourists, he didn’t pass another car. The parking area, when he came to it, was half-filled, however. Given the later hour, he guessed the early hikers had come and gone, as most folks would want to be in and out before dusk. What was left was either the hard-core folks, or maybe people who wanted to visit the closer of the three waterfalls that could be found along the trails.

  Sutton pulled into an empty space.

  Leaving the truck idling, he asked himself why he was here. He’d already established that it was too late in the day to do any real hiking. And that he still had work to do.

  Nostalgia, maybe. Or the fact that it was another point of access to Rabun Bald.

  Tomorrow he was supposed to have guided the women on that hike, even though they would have departed from a different location. And he couldn’t stop feeling awful – and oddly guilty – that it wasn’t going to happen.

  No, he hadn’t wanted to do it in the first place, but he’d gotten over that and was actually, almost, looking forward to it. Even considering the awkwardness that might have resulted from Julie’s drunken proposition.

  Should he have kept her number instead of tossing it into the trash? Would it have made a difference if he’d called her last night?

  Sutton knew that was pointless thinking. When something like this happened, the people involved could what if themselves to death and it wouldn’t change the outcome. Even if he had taken her up on her offer, and called or stopped back by the inn later that same evening, that didn’t mean he could have prevented her fall. He understood all of this logically, but he still couldn’t shake the feeling of regret.

  Because of Eliza.

  Because a simple choice he’d made a decade ago meant he hadn’t been there when the woman he loved needed him. When he might have, somehow, prevented her death. And all the logic in the world would never convince him he hadn’t failed her.

  Turning off his truck, Sutton listened to the ping of the cooling engine before yanking the keys from the ignition. Becky Branch Falls was less than a third of a mile away, and his legs were long. He could make it there and back with enough time left to get ready for dinner.

  Pulling out the pack he always kept in the backseat of the truck, Sutton snugged a cap over his head and locked the doors. Stepping onto the trail that he’d once known like the back of his hand, he felt an odd sort of deja vu. Maybe because his past and present seemed to be running parallel. He wanted to blame Ethan for that, for making him relive the agony of those days after Eliza’s death, but he knew it wasn’t fair or reasonable to do so. Ethan couldn’t have realized that in trying to look out for him, he would trigger a storm of painful memories.

  The sound of leaves crunching beneath his feet, the smell of damp earth began to replace the remembered odor of that long-ago fire that was still lingering in his head, and the gurgle of water over stone made him stop and simply breathe in his surroundings. A light drizzle fell, but the thick canopy caught most of it, allowing him to appreciate the fresh scent of the air without the hassle of getting rained on.

  This was why he’d pulled over, and somehow, he felt like he’d been subconsciously heading here all along. Maybe because it was the place where he’d sought solace so often in his younger years.

  Continuing north, Sutton adjusted his pack as the trail became a series of sharp switchbacks, gaining a significant rise in elevation. Watching his labored breath form a cloud in the increasingly colder wind, he paused by an old spring house. A remnant from the early twentieth century Civilian Conservation Corps, which had spent years helping restore the natural beauty of Rabun County after decades of heavy logging, it was little more than a ruin. Reaching out to touch the cold stone, Sutton couldn’t help but think of Adeline again. Not because she was cold, of course. And she certainly wasn’t hard. The memory of her soft, warm body pressed against his last night was one that he wholeheartedly welcomed. But given her unusual hobby, he thought it might be something she’d find interesting.

  Taking out his phone, Sutton snapped a picture. He may not have much in the way of artistic skill, but she might appreciate his effort. And if she was interested, he’d really like to show it to her in person.

&nbs
p; He’d like to show her a lot of things in person.

  Turning back to the trail, the noise of water spilling over rock grew louder in air that filled with a fine mist. The recent storm had dumped a ton of rain, especially to the north of them, so the falls were really rolling. He caught a glimpse of them through the trees, and the sound of a dog barking let him know that he wasn’t going to be alone in enjoying them. He spotted a woman standing on the wooden bridge spanning the creek, moments before a brown and white puppy turned up at his feet.

  “Hey,” he said in surprised recognition, before squatting down to rub his velvet ears, pat his wriggling backside. “I know you.”

  “Otis! I’m sorry. He… Sutton. I’ll be damned.”

  “Not on my account, I hope.” He smiled at his friend Katie, whose curly dark hair poked from beneath a striped beanie that read Knit Happens, reminding him, yet again, of Adeline and her homemade hat. “Although you haven’t returned any of my calls or texts for the past few days, so maybe I’m the one who’s been condemned to purgatory.”

  “I know.” Katie heaved a sigh. “I’m sorry. I’m a terrible friend.”

  Picking up the puppy, whom he hadn’t seen since the morning he’d pulled both him and Adeline from the cellar, he gave the animal a nuzzle while it desperately licked Sutton’s ear. “At least Otis still likes me.”

  Katie rolled her deep brown eyes. “Everyone likes you. Including me. You’re the hero of the hour. I know I should have called you back and thanked you personally for rescuing Otis, but I just…”

  To Sutton’s horror, those dark eyes filled with tears.

  “Hey,” he said, wishing he hadn’t teased her. “I was just kidding. I didn’t mean to –”

  “No.” She held up her hands before making fists and knocking them against her head. “It’s not you. It’s totally, totally me. I’ve just been feeling sorry for myself, and it’s time I got over it. That’s why I’m out here in this shit weather. Trying to get out of my own head.”

  Sutton realized he could relate. He’d been feeling pretty sorry for himself today, too. “Anything I can do?”

  She laughed, reminding him so much of the Katie he’d known in high school. His eternal lab partner, and partner in crime – one night literally, when a group of seniors broke into the school to pull off a prank. Katie’s uncle was a mechanic, and they’d used her secondhand knowledge to assemble most of a kit car in the gymnasium, positioning the school mascot costume in the driver’s seat. They’d gotten in trouble, but it had been one hundred percent worth it.

  “I truly and sincerely doubt it,” she said. “Unless you have some magic potion that will improve my luck with men.”

  Ah. Well. “If I had a magic potion, I’d need some for myself. My luck in that department has been pretty abysmal as well. With women, I mean. I seem to be doing pretty well with males at the moment.”

  Katie smiled at her dog, who was staring at Sutton with that unique brand of canine adoration.

  “You always did have a way with animals, which I guess makes sense since you’re a vet.” She reached out and scratched Otis’s head. “Of course, you had a way with the females, too.”

  Sutton frowned at her. “You mean… human… females?”

  Katie stopped petting the dog and looked up. “No, Sutton. I was talking about alpacas. Of course humans, you big dummy.”

  “I think maybe you inhaled too much helium during our balloon experiments.”

  Katie gaped. “You can’t be serious.”

  “About the helium? That was more of a joke. Although I do recall you getting lightheaded and having to be excused from the classroom at one point to get some fresh air.”

  “Wait.” She held up her hands. “You are serious. You legitimately didn’t realize that I had a crush on you for… God, years.”

  “You…” With a deeper appreciation for the idiom deer in the headlights, Sutton froze. He was glad he was holding the dog, otherwise he wouldn’t know what to do with his hands. “Um, wow. No, I can’t say that I… Jesus, Katie. I’m –”

  “If you say you’re sorry, I’m going to punch you. Well, I’ll take my dog back first, because I don’t want him to get hurt, and then I’ll punch you.”

  “I’m caught unawares. Is that okay to say? Because saying I’m flattered sounds pretty damn condescending. Shit.” He thought of all the hours they’d spent together, studying or simply hanging out. And he hadn’t had a clue. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

  “Because I was a teenage girl?” She laughed, and then rolled her eyes. “Come on, Sutton. Like it would have made a difference if I had? You were dating the freaking captain of the cheerleading squad.”

  “Not until we were seniors. And you said years.”

  “Okay, okay, fine. I was a chickenshit, okay? I mean you’re you. And I’m…” she gestured toward herself. “Me.”

  Sutton took a moment to breathe before responding. “I’m going to need the name of the jerk who made you talk like that about yourself, so that I can kick his ass.”

  “It’s me. I’m the jerk.”

  “Well then I guess I have to kick your ass. Otis, cover your eyes.”

  Katie grinned, and then laughed so hard she started to hiccup. “God, you have always been able to cheer me up. I’m so glad you moved back home.” She stretched up onto her toes to kiss his cheek, an activity which Otis mirrored with great enthusiasm.

  “He-here. Stupid hiccups. Let me put him on his leash before he licks you to death.”

  She did, and then Sutton set him on the ground, where he immediately began to sniff and mark things. “You are planning to get him neutered, right?”

  “Duh. I’m just waiting for you to get your clinic ope-open. Hang on.” She pulled a water bottle from her backpack and then hung upside down.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Getting rid of the hic-hiccups.”

  He watched her drink from the bottle. “Does that work?”

  “You’re a doctor,” she said in the direction of her knees. “You don’t know that?”

  “I must have missed that day.”

  “Do animals even get hiccups?” she wondered.

  “If they have a diaphragm, they can.”

  “That has to be so confusing for them.” She flipped back upright. “See? All gone.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind for future reference, although it might be a little more difficult to implement when we’re talking about a cat.”

  Katie chuckled, and then tugged on Otis’ leash when he tried to take off after a falling leaf. “Seriously though, you have no idea how much it means to me to have him back. I’ve only had him for a matter of weeks, but he’s somehow like… pow, just this huge part of my life. I guess that’s what happens when you get to be our age and don’t have kids.” Her voice turned wistful. “Your pets are your children.”

  Sutton considered how that echoed his thoughts before he hiked up here. How different his life was from what he’d imagined it would be.

  “I assume you’ll be getting one of your own,” Katie said. “A dog, I mean. Not a kid.”

  “Well, I’m hoping for both, eventually.”

  It felt weird to put that out there, but it was the truth.

  “I’m sure you’ll have no shortage of volunteers to help you out with that.”

  “I don’t know about that.”

  “I do. You have everything going for you.”

  Uncomfortable, Sutton steered the conversation away from their romantic prospects, or lack thereof.

  “My parents will be back in about a week. Since I’ll be living in town, we’ll have to hook up for dinner again soon.”

  “Do you need help moving into the loft?”

  Loft was a fancy way of describing the apartment over the clinic, which he’d also leased. “I’ve already moved what furniture I have,” he said. “It’s really just a matter of clothes and whatnot. I was planning on staying there tonight, actually, in case the roads get bad.
I don’t want to try to get in and out at my parents’.”

  “The Rabun Ski Slope.”

  Sutton laughed, and then shook his head. “I’d forgotten about that.” He and Ethan had gotten the bright idea one snow day to borrow their dad’s water skis and charge whichever friends could make it over to ski down the road.

  “It’s a miracle you didn’t break your necks.”

  “It’s a miracle my mom didn’t break our necks when she realized what we were up to.”

  Katie smiled. “Well, if you need help with anything, anything at all, just give me a shout. It’s the least I can do, considering that you found my best boy here.”

  “It wasn’t me, really. A woman named Adeline found him.”

  “Oh.” A shadow passed across her face. “I was told you rescued him. I thought you were on duty at the fire station?”

  “I was, but my shift was over. And I did rescue him… sort of.” He described the chain of events. “I was just there to pull both of them out of the root cellar when they got stuck.”

  “Well, then. I guess I didn’t get that part of the story. I thought someone made a call to the fire station because they heard Otis… I’m sorry,” she said, waving her hands in front of her face. “I’m not going to cry again. It’s just… who would do something like that, Sutton? He’s just a baby.”

  Sutton looked down at the happy pup, who was carrying the fallen leaf in his mouth as if it were a sabre tooth tiger that he’d personally hunted to the death.

  “I don’t know,” Sutton said. “But if – when – Ethan finds out who did, I really do want to kick their ass.”

  “Not if I get there first. I’ve never had much of a mothering instinct, but hoo boy do I understand that whole mama bear thing now.” She picked Otis up, cuddling him against her neck. “I do appreciate the offer, though. You were the only guy who ever stuck up for me in high school. The only guy who noticed me, really.”