Nate emits a brief, soft laugh, causing a slight upward curve on his lips.
“Greenman. I’m Nate Greenman.”
I give a slight nod of my head. “Well," I reply, "it's nice to meet you. My name is Tessie Billings.”
“Oh, baby. I already know your surname.” His hand finds its way to my thigh, gripping it smoothly as he focuses on the road ahead.
“Of course you do...” I chuckle.
I gently place my hand on top of his, feeling the warmth of his skin against mine. Slowly, I begin to caress his hand, tracing the lines and curves of his hand with my fingertips.
“What about Mike? What is his surname?” I ask.
Nate can’t help but chuckle at the question. He replies, “You are a curious one today. Well, his name is Michael Chadderton, but everyone just calls him Mike. His surname sounds like a type of cheese.”
“No, it doesn't.” I giggle.
It feels strange that I had allowed myself to become physically intimate with individuals I knew so little about.
We pull up to my house and Nate quickly exits the truck as he walks around to open the door for me. Stepping out of the car, I inhale the fresh air and notice the gentle breeze blowing through the trees. We make our way to the front door together and I fumble with my keys before finally unlocking it. As I push the door open, Nate steps in front of me and says, “Let me go in first, baby. Just in case.” His protective gesture elicits a sense of comfort and security within me. I follow closely behind him as we enter the house.
After a thorough examination, he turns to me, calm and collective, reassures me, “Everything looks good.”
“I'm not sure if all of this is really necessary,” I say as I make my way to the bedroom to change out of last night's clothes.
Nate nonchalantly leans his shoulder against the doorframe as if he owns the place. He speaks calmly yet firmly, “We are only trying to protect you, baby.”
I carefully take off the vibrant, red blouse and black skirt, tossing them into my laundry hamper with a sigh. I turn towards my wardrobe and my eyes land on dark blue jeans and a crisp, white t-shirt. I quickly slip into the comfortable clothing, feeling the smooth fabric against my skin. I sense Nate's gaze on me.
“Look, Cain is going to do some digging. Hopefully, we can find out who this second person is and then–”
I interrupt him. “Let me guess, kill them, too?”
As I approach the bedroom door, Nate suddenly blocks my path. He firmly grasps the side of the door frame, creating a barrier that prevents me from passing through.
He tilts his head down, bringing his face towards mine. With a hint of aggression, he asks, "If we do, do you have a problem with it?"
I gaze toward him, my expression filled with worry and apprehension. “No, I just have never witnessed death until I watched Cain plunge a blade into Dan's throat,” I confess, my voice barely above a whisper. The thought of it makes me uneasy and I can't shake off the feeling of dread that accompanies it.
Nate wraps his arms around me in a warm embrace. His voice is soft and soothing as he whispers, “Don't worry. Everything will be okay. You won't have to witness anything like that again, baby.” The comfort of his hug and the reassurance in his words helps to calm my nerves, easing the tension in my body.
Nate releases me from his warm embrace and I approach the spare room. With each step, the sound of my footsteps echoes through the quiet house. I enter the room and feel the coolness of the air against my skin. I walk toward the bed, kneel down, reach under it, and retrieve a small suitcase. The suitcase is old and worn with scratches and scuff marks covering its surface.
“Let me take that,” Nate demands, taking the suitcase from me as he carries it into the bedroom and lays it on the bed.
I unzip the suitcase, take a deep breath, and start filling it with clothes, toiletries, electronics, and other essentials I will need.
Suddenly, the sound of my front door opening jolts me out of my thoughts. I look up at Nate and my heart starts pounding in my chest. He meets my gaze and places a finger to his lips, signaling me to remain silent. My eyes follow him as he slowly makes his way out of the bedroom, his footsteps barely audible as he treads cautiously toward the source of the noise.
A female voice breaks the silence. “Where is my daughter?” the voice echoes through the room. Without hesitating, I leap out of the bedroom and rush towards the sound. In front of me, I see my mother standing tall and poised. Her once dark brown hair has now been peppered with streaks of gray, but it still flows with grace. She is dressed in a floral blouse paired with sleek black trousers. However, her lipstick seems out of place, as it is too light for her complexion. Her face is full of confusion and concern.
“Mom,” I gasp.
My mother turns her head toward me then looks behind me. With a smile, she looks Nate up and down, admiring his appearance. “Who is this handsome man?” she asks, her voice filled with curiosity. A bit taken aback by the compliment, Nate scratches his head and gives an awkward smile.
“Uh,” I mumble. “This is Nate,” I answer.
Mom approaches Nate with confident strides and extends her hand towards him. Nate reciprocates the gesture by shaking her hand firmly. “Nice to meet you, uh…”
“Dawn,” my mom offers.
Nate finishes his sentence, “Nice to meet you, Dawn.”
“What is a handsome man like you doing with my Tessie...” My mom asks in a sarcastic tone.
I glance suspiciously at my mother. I retort to Nate in a low voice, “Be careful, Nate. You never know–she might make you husband number four."
Mom chuckles then playfully flicks her hand toward me. Nate laughs awkwardly and mutters, “I'll wait for you outside, Tessie.” He quickly makes his way out of the house, leaving us behind.
“What do you want, Mom?” I ask, crossing my arms.
“He seems nice. Anyway, I'm going away for a couple weeks. I would appreciate it if you could keep an eye on your brother. I have ensured that all his meals are taken care of and stored in the freezer. He simply needs to warm them up when he's ready to eat," my mom says.
I gaze toward her, a look of confusion etches across my face. The words escape my lips before I can even comprehend their meaning. “But you've only been back from holiday for barely a month. Besides, he’s a strong, independent nineteen-year-old. Why do you need me to check up on him?”
My mother turns on her heels, her hair swaying gracefully behind her, as she confidently strides toward the front door.
“Just keep an eye on him. I don't want the police called again for him smoking pot outside the house. Also, don't give him money. He will only buy drugs.”
