Running Scared (Letters From Morgantown Book 1)

by Tracie Puckett

  “Yeah,” I said, squatting down to collect the soiled supplies.

  “It’s nice of you to offer, but please don’t bother,” he said. “The lights are busted in the basement, so it’s too dark to go down to the utility sink. I’ll clean these up in the bathroom.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Thank you,” he said. “I’ll get it.”

  I didn’t want to insist again and risk upsetting him; he seemed content to do everything on his own. Throwing a look around the room, I admired the difference he’d made with a couple of coats of lighter paint. The foyer and common room looked dramatically different than they had earlier that morning.

  “It’s better than the dark blue, huh?”

  “Yeah,” I agreed. “It’s fresh. Clean. I like it.”

  He turned a look back to the finished rooms, a proud smile on his lips.

  “Chris?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Please tell me you’re not doing all of this on my account,” I said, remembering how he’d said that he’d hoped to have more done before I arrived. I didn’t want him going through the trouble of shutting the place down and fixing it up—even if it was for minor changes. Not for me. Because as soon as I got the call, I would be out of Morgantown quicker than I’d arrived. His effort wasn’t necessary.

  “No,” he said, squatting to the floor to close up the paint cans. “We booked the time off months ago. It’s usually slow for the first couple weeks of December anyway, so we’re not hurting ourselves to take the time. Some renovations and touch-ups seemed like a good plan; the house is dated.”

  “Theo said the B&B belonged to your grandmother?” I asked.

  “It used to.”

  “When did you take over?” I asked, cautious not to cross a line. Theo had already mentioned that Chris’s grandmother passed, leaving him to assume the responsibilities of the business. Asking how long he’d been in charge was about the only delicate way of asking how long ago he’d buried someone he loved.

  “Last Christmas.”

  “Oh.”

  “She did a wonderful job running the place,” he said, not lingering on the subject of her death. “Business was great. The guests loved it here. I swear, they only flocked to this place because of her charm and Theo’s food.” At the mention of food, he stopped his busy hands and turned back to me. “You’re probably starving. How do you feel about dinner?”

  “I’m generally a fan.”

  “We don’t have a lot to eat on hand while we’re shut down, but it’s not too late,” he said. “I’ll get everything cleaned up here, and then we can venture out for food. There’s a great diner down on Main Street off the square, or we could hit any number of places this side of the bridge. What’re you thinking? What would you like?”

  My heart pinched at the sheer thought of leaving the safe boundaries of the B&B. The thought of being watched, studied, and on display . . . it turned my stomach to knots.

  “I don’t know,” I said, feeling my mouth go dry, and Chris’s smile faded.

  “I’m being presumptuous, aren’t I?” he asked. “I didn’t even ask you if you’d want company for dinner. I don’t want to hover. If you want some time alone—”

  “No,” I said. “I don’t. If you’re offering . . . I don’t want to be alone.”

  “Then I’m offering,” he said. “I’m happy to take you wherever you’d like to go.”

  But I didn’t want to go anywhere, especially into town. Leaving the B&B meant exposing myself. Danielle had already mentioned that everyone was dying to meet me—to know my life story. Honey, they’re going to pick you apart. I wasn’t sure I could handle that kind of pressure.

  Chris was still talking, making suggestions for dinner, but his words were muffled in the background as I played out the risks in my head. Would I even be safe if I left?

  “So what do you think?” he asked.

  “You know what?” I shook my head. “I think I’ll stay. I don’t want to—”

  “You wouldn’t make me go alone, would you?”

  “You’d go without me?” I asked, because for some reason, I selfishly assumed that if I stuck around, he’d stick around, too.

  “I haven’t eaten all day,” he said. “Food’s starting to sound good.”

  I weighed my options.

  Theo was gone, and Chris and I were alone. If Chris left, then that meant that I would be completely alone. But if I went out into town with him, suddenly all eyes were on me. I would have to talk to people, put on a show. The lies would start, and I wasn’t ready for all of that.

  I had two options: go or stay. And neither of those options sounded appealing, not when I was so hungry.

  “What do you say, Syd?” he asked. “You gonna join me or not?”

  Chapter Five

  “Thanks, Tony.”

  Chris closed the front door, turning back to me with a smile as cheesy as the four-cheese pizza he held in his hand.

  When I finally caved and told Chris I didn’t want to venture into town, he blatantly lied and said he wasn’t feeling up to it either. That led to a quick phone call down to the local pizzeria. He worked silently through the next twenty minutes, cleaning up the mess he’d made throughout the day. When the knock on the door broke the silence, we perked up.

  Chris left the pizza on the long dining room table, and I followed him into the kitchen, where we could grab plates and wash up. He took his turn at the sink first, soaping his hands and scrubbing the dried paint off. I stood behind him, waiting for my turn.

  “It’s all yours,” he said, stepping aside to grab a towel. But before he wiped his hands, he turned back and flicked his fingers at me, sprinkling my face with tiny drops of water.

  I didn’t say anything; I’m not entirely sure I even flinched when the cold water hit my skin.

  “Oh, come on,” he said. “Not even a smirk?”

  “It was funny.”

  “And yet you’re not laughing. You’re locked in a deadpan stare there, kid.”

  I stepped up to the sink and dropped my hands under the still-running stream of water, feeling the tiny beads on my face leftover from Chris’s fingers. Dad would’ve loved that move; he would’ve admired Chris’s playful tenacity, especially at my expense. What good’s life without laughter?

  His voice. His words . . . everything I loved about Dad, it all snuck up on me when I least expected it.

  After my hands were clean, I reached over to take the towel Chris offered. Plates, napkins, and drinks in hand, we returned to the dining room.

  “So are you hanging around for Christmas?” he asked, opening the pizza box. “Or do you have plans to go back home and spend time with friends and family?”

  “I don’t know yet,” I said, refusing to point out that as far as Chris knew, Theo was my family. Theo was all the family I had.

  I had to be careful what I told him, and I wouldn’t lie if I didn’t have to. My plans were still up in the air. I didn’t know what the future held. Christmas was well over two weeks away, and anything could happen in two weeks. There could be a break in my case—a new lead, a suspect, and maybe even an arrest. With a suspect in custody, I could be called home to make a positive ID. Two weeks was a long time, and I wasn’t ruling out hope that I would be long gone and far away from Morgantown by the time Christmas morning rolled around.

  “I’m hoping to go home.”

  “I bet,” he said. “There’s no place like home for the holidays, right?”

  “Right.”

  “Well, if you’re still here at Christmas, you should try to make it into town,” Chris said. “December’s a big deal around here. There’s plenty of fun to be had in Morgantown.”

  “What kind of fun?” I asked. I’d almost forgotten what fun felt like, and even saying the word felt wrong. I was numb to everything that came with happiness.

  “There’s the light show and the tree lighting in the square,” he started. “They light the tree this coming Friday
night, actually, and then the light show continues through the rest of the month. The neighborhood goes wild with light displays, and it’s beautiful. You can probably see Morgantown from space— one big illuminated glow. And then there’s the Winter Festival, and the parade down Main Street on Christmas Eve. It’s a huge celebration.”

  “Sounds like it,” I said, taking a bite into my first slice of pizza.

  There was another beat of silence; neither Chris nor I knew what to say, but he didn’t seem content to let the conversation die.

  “Have you ever been in a parade?” he asked.

  “Once.”

  “Let me guess: pageant float. You were a pageant queen?”

  “No,” I shook my head. “Have you seen me? Do I look like someone you’d find sitting on a throne?”

  “Yes,” he said, meeting my stare, and I quickly looked back down to the pizza on my plate. I ran my fingers through my uncombed hair and licked my lips, hoping I didn’t look as frumpy as I felt.

  “So if not a pageant queen, then?”

  “My dad ran for local office,” I said. “He had his campaign slogan printed on a giant magnet and slapped it to the side of our car.”

  “Oh, yeah? What was he running for?”

  “Nothing,” I said. “It was nothing.”

  Except it was everything. That election meant the world to him, and he’d busted his butt to make sure he landed that job as county commissioner. But as hard as he tried, everyone considered him the underdog. When the votes came in, he couldn’t believe he’d beaten Thompson Crawford in the polls. No one could.

  “I never knew my dad,” Chris said, almost as if it were a passing thought, something he hadn’t meant to mention out loud.

  I tried to imagine what kind of life that must’ve been for him. How could someone live without their father? I doubted I would ever figure that out .

  “I’m sorry.”

  “No, don’t be,” he said, unashamed of volunteering that information about his past. “My grandma was there; she was the best kind of support system a kid could have.” He took a deep breath, comfortable with that conclusion to his thought. “I know a thing or two about riding in parades myself.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Sure. I rode in the winter parade every year with Theo.”

  “Really?” I asked, straight-faced. “Let me guess: pageant queens, right? Pretty dresses, tiaras. Princess wave and all?”

  “Oh, my God. What’s this?” he said, his mouth falling open. “Alert the media: she has a sense of humor.” When I didn’t respond with even the slightest smirk, he continued, “Theo used to be the town Santa Claus.”

  “And you were an elf?”

  “Every year, until I turned ten. I guess I had the face for it.”

  I didn’t know whether or not he was joking, but I had to admit he was right. There was something boyish about his winsome qualities, and it wouldn’t have surprised me for a minute to see him dressed in green from head to toe, dancing and showing off at the side of a loud and boisterous Santa.

  “Stop picturing it,” he begged. “Please.”

  At the back of the house, a door snapped open, and a gust of cold wind rushed into the dining room. I shrieked, instinctively grabbing Chris’s arm for protection. We both stared back toward the kitchen, unable to see beyond the wall, and I curled my fingers into his arm. I wanted to pull my hand away. God, I wanted to let him go, but I couldn’t.

  “Theo?” Chris asked, calling into the other room. “Is that you?”

  Footsteps rounded the corner, and Theo poked his giant head through the doorway.

  “Just me,” he said, slipping into the room. “Oh, pizza!”

  “Hands off, you behemoth,” Chris said, closing the box before Theo could steal either of the last two pieces. “Those are Sydney’s.”

  “Kinda figured,” Theo said.

  “What’s up?” Chris asked. “Did you forget something?”

  “Nah, checking in. Thought I’d stop by and see my girl.” He looked to me. “How are you tonight, kiddo?”

  “I got some rest,” I said, giving him about the only answer I could.

  Chris turned into me, dropping his head, and lowering his voice to an almost whisper. “You okay?”

  “Yeah, why?” I asked, still a little breathless at Theo’s sudden arrival.

  He looked down to his arm, and it was only then that I realized I was still gripping him.

  “Sorry.” I pulled my hand away.

  “It’s okay,” he said. “Kinda liked it. Made me feel tough,” he said, working to flex his barely-there bicep.

  “Are you eating?” Theo asked.

  “I am.”

  “Pizza, though?” He looked to Chris. “Really?”

  “It’s what she wanted. We worked up an appetite.”

  “So I leave you alone for a few hours and you have the poor girl doing manual labor?”

  “I tried; I wanted to help,” I said. “He wouldn’t let me.”

  “He can be stubborn that way,” Theo said, turning a look to Chris. “You should let her help. It may do her some good to focus her energy on something productive.”

  “Yeah, I suppose,” Chris agreed. “I didn’t think of that. I didn’t want her thinking her stay here was conditional, you know?”

  “I’m sure she understands that.”

  “But she’s—”

  “Guys,” I said, looking between them, silencing Chris before he could finish his sentence. “Can you please stop doing that?”

  “What’s that?” Theo asked.

  “I’m sitting right here,” I said. “I can hear you.”

  Neither of them spoke for a minute; instead they looked at each other.

  “She’s right. We should stop,” Chris said.

  “Probably.”

  “She doesn’t like when we talk about her.”

  “Why would she? It’s kinda rude.”

  “But she has to know we’re not trying to be rude,” Chris added.

  “She’s young. Kids think what they wanna think.”

  “But I see her point.”

  “Yeah, she makes a great argument.”

  “Guys, come on, stop that,” I said, covering my face. It was so juvenile the way they picked on me, much akin to the behavior I was used to getting from my father. And if it hadn’t hurt to make that comparison, I probably would’ve mustered the tiniest smile at their playful nature.

  “Ah, we’re just messing with you, Syd,” Chris said. “Any chance we’re forgiven?”

  “Yes.”

  “Simple as that?” Theo asked. “You didn’t even have to grovel, boss. And here you were afraid she wouldn’t like you.”

  “I know,” Chris said.

  “It seems she does.”

  “She has impeccable taste.”

  “You know we’re doing it again? We’re talking about her.”

  “Go with it. I don’t think she’s noticed,” Chris said, turning back to me with a smile. “You like me, eh?”

  “I don’t like you.” I scoffed. I hadn’t meant to sound so harsh and cold, but I had to stomp any suspicion that I was attracted to Chris. I’d had one weak moment, but I’d gotten over it—and fast.

  “Right,” Chris said, his face void of any smile. “No, I know, I . . . I was saying . . . ”

  “Well, this took a fun turn,” Theo said quickly. “Should I get some popcorn, or are you gonna let me have the rest of that pizza?” I pushed the box across the table, and Theo nodded and took a seat across from us. “Continue.”

  “I didn’t mean to imply that you like me,” Chris said. His face was flushed, pink from embarrassment. “That’s not what Theo meant. It’s not what I meant.”

  “Then what did you mean?” I asked, and it seemed like such a simple question, but Chris struggled to find an answer.

  He rubbed his hand over his face before turning to Theo. “Can you help me here?”

  “He’s quiet,” Theo said. “Talking i
sn’t necessarily his forte, so when he has to talk, he tends to stick his foot in his mouth. Naturally, he was a little afraid to have you move in. He thought you’d be a lot like me.”

  “Like you?” I asked.

  “A talker,” Theo said. “He was nervous he wouldn’t have much to say. He didn’t want you to mistake his silence to mean you weren’t welcome.”

  “Wait, this Chris?” I asked, pointing to the man next to me. “You think Chris is quiet?”

  “Well, yeah, most of the time.”

  I looked to the man at my side, lowering my brow.

  I couldn’t claim to know him well. In fact, I hardly knew him at all, but this quality that Theo described seemed completely absurd to me. Since meeting Chris, I hadn’t been in a room with him a single time that he hadn’t kept the conversation going with as many words possible. He’d rarely stopped talking. And even when he did, I could always feel him eager to say something else.

  Something drew my eyes back to Chris, and he grinned; it was a silent assurance that he would be difficult to figure out. But for once I was willing to forsake my impulse to run from the unknown, because Chris was the kind of mystery that didn’t scare me. And that was a first.

  Chapter Six

  “How’d you sleep?” Theo asked.

  The night was brutal. But I wouldn’t tell him that. If he’d cared at all about my wellbeing, he wouldn’t have disappeared again last night after dinner.

  “That bad, huh?” he asked, watching me closer, his large, brown eyes focusing on the details of my expression.

  I hated that he could read me; he could see right through the wall I’d put up. Because of that, I wanted to give him as little as possible to read into. He didn’t understand. He couldn’t understand. He was trained to fit a mold—to make these transitions into a new role and a new life without consideration. While I was falling apart, emotionally on the brink of disaster, Theo was on a job. And I felt completely alone.

  So yeah. Last night was brutal.

  Except brutal couldn’t begin to describe it . . .

  After saying goodbye to Theo and goodnight to Chris the night before, I’d slunk off to my room and back into bed. Like the many nights before, I’d tossed and turned for hours without a wink of sleep, and restlessness left me alone once again with my dark thoughts.