Page 14 of Warrior Security
“There are also eggs in the farmhouse if you want breakfast tomorrow, and I usually have?—”
“Lark.”
I stopped.
“This is more than enough,” he said. He picked up the duffel and carried it into the bedroom. Set it on the floor next to the bed, precise and centered. Then he came back and stood in the kitchen, looking at me with an expression I couldn’t quite read. “Thank you.”
Two words. No elaboration, no small talk, no follow-up questions. Just a man standing in a clean, simple space that was enough for him because his threshold for enough had been ground down to nearly nothing.
You’re always good at this,the voice said. Small and familiar. Wearing my mother’s inflection the way it always did when I was tired and my guard was down.Good at making yourself useful so nobody looks too closely at what a mess you’ve made of things.
I blinked her voice away. Less conspicuous than covering my ears with my hands.
“Evening chores start at six,” I said from the doorway. “But don’t worry about tonight. Get settled, get some rest. I’ll handle it.”
“I can help.”
“You just got here. Get settled, get your bearings.”
“I’ll start on the fence line this morning. I can figure out what I need from the equipment shed and then be ready for chores.”
That surprised me. He’d been here less than an hour, and he was already making a plan for the north fence. I almost argued, almost told him he didn’t have to earn his keep on day one, but the look on his face said he needed the work more than he needed the rest.
“Equipment shed is the gray building past the barn on the left. It’s not locked.” I paused. “If you find a ratchet winch in there, you’re a better archaeologist than I am.”
He smiled. “I always wanted to be Indiana Jones. Finally will get my chance.”
“See you at six.”
I gave him a wave, pulled the door shut behind me, and stood on the small porch. The morning sun was climbing over the ridge, sharpening the shadows across the pastures. From here, I could see the barn with its peeling paint, the leaning fence posts along the north line, Duchess still standing at the rail where I’d left her.
I walked back toward it all. Feed delivery this afternoon. After that, I needed to update the feeding schedules, check the medication log, call the vet about Princess Whiskers’s follow-up, and find time to look at the secondary grant application that was due in ten days and still mostly blank on my laptop.
I’d handle it. All of it. The same way I always did. One task, then the next, then the next, nobody asking how I was holding up because I’d made damn sure they never thought to ask.
The farmhouse was ahead of me. My cheerful yellow beacon, although the inside left a lot to be desired. I climbed the porch steps and went inside to country music still playing from the speaker I’d left on this morning and coffee still warm in the pot.
I had work to do.
Chapter 5
Logan
Princess Whiskers’s Brita water went in the ceramic bowl with the chipped rim. The specific chipped rim, because she had two bowls and would only drink from the one on the left side of the shelf. Dobby got two cups of the grain-free kibble, soaked for ten minutes in warm water because he was still putting weight back on and dry food was hard on his teeth.
Frank the beagle got a cup and a half of the senior blend, no treats until after his walk because he’d throw them up. Duke’s bowl had to be placed on the raised stand or he wouldn’t touch it.
Hand to God, I had followed fewer rules in the military than the color-coded ones listed everywhere in this barn.
A week of Lark’s feeding system and I’d absorbed the whole thing without trying. Her protocols were more detailed than some operational briefings I’d sat through, but they made sense. Every instruction tied to a specific animal with a specific need.
No guesswork. No ambiguity. I could run the morning rounds on autopilot, and that was the point. My hands moved,my brain stayed quiet, and the hours between sunrise and dark had a shape I could follow.
Dark back to sunrise? Still not so good.
Two hours, maybe three, of sleep before the dreams dragged me awake and left me staring at the ceiling of the cabin with my heart slamming and my shirt soaked through. There didn’t seem to be any way around it. Leaving Warrior Security and its active missions hadn’t helped as much as I’d hoped. My demons didn’t seem to care.
But at least here the days felt earned. The work was hard, but I liked it. Maybe someday the nights would sort themselves out.
