Page 59 of Chasing Creed

Sara reached out tentatively and gently, and she petted the dog. Another sniff, as the nose returned to inspect the bloody sleeve again. Then her eyes came up to meet Sara’s. The brown one looked more serious and intent. The blue one made Sara smile. It was so unexpected and beautiful.

“I won’t leave you again,” she told the dog. “Ever.”

It was a promise she wasn’t sure she could keep. But it felt ridiculously good to say it out loud. And mean it.

“Maybe you and me…maybe we can belong to each other.”

Shadow sniffed the bloody sleeve one more time and looked up as if asking if Sara was okay.

“No, it’s not mine.”

The dog didn’t look convinced. Sara pushed up the cuff and presented her arm for inspection. Thankfully, it was the opposite one. No bite mark. No wound. No blood.

Sara petted her some more.

“You hungry? Let’s get you something to eat.”

When the dog wouldn’t let her out of sight even for food, Sara brought her food dish into the bedroom. She left the bathroom door open so the dog could see her get into the shower. By the time Sara came back out, the dish was licked clean, and the dog was asleep, curled up on the carpet.

Almost asleep. One eye squinted open as Sara soft-stepped across the room. She’d tried to coax her up on the bed the night before. Tonight, Sara would let her stay where she was comfortable. They’d both had an exhausting day.

But Sara had one last thing to do. She opened the hardcover ledger on the small desk. Without needing to search, she found the name she was looking for: Rachel Collins. She picked up the black pen and drew a checkmark next to the name. Before she closed it, her eyes caught the last name on the last line. The name had not been on the list Iris had given to Sara. But without any confirmation, Sara knew it was on Orlando’s list.

Iris obviously never expected anyone to find this original ledger. The one that included all her girls, even the ones her brother had eliminated years before. Instead, she handpicked which names to give to Sara and which to give to Orlando, pitting them against each other. Even overlapping some names by putting them on both lists.

Sara closed the book and slid it into the side pocket of her backpack along with the black pen and a red one.

Her body ached, muscles strained, her new injuries raw. Even as she crawled under Granny El’s soft quilt, she knew she’d never sleep. Still, she needed to rest. Clear her mind. She had another long road trip ahead. She’d need to plan, lock down this house, get supplies. She’d barely gotten settled after the Wyoming trip. So much snow. It’d been exhausting.

Returning to this quilt, this house, the scent of Granny El, it was a surprising comfort. Maybe it was dangerous. Maybe it wasn’t smart to get attached. Wasn’t that the lesson Iris had constantly tried to drill into her?

The first time Sara found a litter of kittens, Iris discovered what finally mattered to Sara. Broken bones, bruises, words—none of those seemed to hurt Sara. But the kittens mattered.

“Don’t get too attached,” Iris had told her.

And of course, that was exactly how Iris dug in her hook. She discovered what Sara dared to enjoy. What Sara truly cared about, and then Iris dangled it by a thread.

“If you run away, if you don’t come back, who knows what will happen to those cats.”

Sara wondered if that was what happened to Granny El. Would Iris really get rid of her own mother just because Sara cared about the woman?

It was a constant mental and physical cycle and recycle that churned and twisted. Kept her off guard. Made her doubt herself.

Sara rubbed the notch on the bridge of her nose. Her left elbow ached with the changes in weather, where the break never healed properly.

Hard lessons.

A push, a shove, a scold. How many? She’d given up keeping track. And then finally, she’d simply given up completely. Or at least, she’d pretended that she’d given up.

Outside, the coyotes howled. One after another. Despite the warmth of the quilt, Sara still felt a shiver. But she was safe. Not out in the middle of the pitch-black woods where the sound echoed as if they could come upon her any minute.

She heard the bed frame creak. Felt the mattress dip behind her. More movement. Tentative. A slow-motion roll, then a snuffle and a sniff. There was a soft bump against her back, followed by more shifting.

Silence.

And then a sigh.

The weight against her back was warm and solid. A heartbeat. A rhythm. An unexpected comfort. It was probably exactly what Iris had warned her about.