Brielle

"I'm sorry," I said sadly, watching his hands work.

"Don't be too sad luv. We are birds of a feather in that. We are both all that's left, right?"

"I suppose we are," I answered with a sad smile.

"I guess you need to be knowin', I aim to kiss ya," he said, still looking at the project in front of him.

I froze and stared at him, wide eyed. Hy heart tried to pound out of my chest and I could feel my pulse between my legs as heat rushed in.

"I'm waitin' for the right moment. I'll know when it is. Didn't want ya to think I was bein' prudish or reluctant if ya know what I am sayin'."

"Umm. Oh. Uhh..."

"Were ya not wondrin'?" he asked, stopping to look at me. "Ya are quite lovely when ya blush that way Mo Shíorghrá."

"Do you plan on telling me what that actually means?"

He grinned, his eyes shining. "It's a possibility luv. Tell me if your googlin' finds ya no answers. So how old were ya' when you became an orphan?"

"A baby. Nineteen months? Still in a car seat. I'm told I had a brother too, but he died with my parents in the accident. The car seat saved me."

"That's a shame about your family, but I am glad you came out of it. So your husband, did his folks really not know?"

"Oh, they might have had an inkling, but he wasn't super flamboyant or anything. He dressed like a guy, talked, walked and acted like a guy. He just also liked guys. Still, they had to wonder why most of our dates seemed to always include guys friends. Or why we hung out with different guys who were more obviously gay. Dillen dated a lot until we got married and he met Liam. They were such a cute couple, both of them so beautiful."

"You didn't mind it, see'n them together like that?"

"Not at all. I wasn't in love with Dillen, he was my friend. I was glad to see him so happy. Liam too, he was a great guy. I was heartbroken when they both died."

"In an auto wreck as well?"

"Yeah," I said sadly.

"I don't drive, myself."

"No? So you work at home?"

"I never said that," he answered, smiling slightly.

"You are asking all these questions, but when I ask about you, you change the subject or joke around it. I don't get to know about you?"

"Not much to know, luv. I will tell ya this. I intend to muss those red sheets even more than you mussed them last night," he stated, winking at me before he stood and turned the dresser upright to put the drawers in.

I felt the heat in my face go all the way to my ears. Did he KNOW somehow? And he was going to...? I stared hard at the ground, not daring to let him see my face. I heard him chuckle as he began sliding the drawers into place. I had read books and seen movies. I knew that now is where I should say something witty or teasing, like 'dream on', but by the time that occurred to me, it was too late. And it sounded cliche and droll. So instead, I sat here floundering. That was much better. Not awkward at all. I was going to die of embarrassment. Was he looking at me? I hid my face in Lia's fur, hugging her close again.

My phone chirped.

E. Outlaw - Woke up from a dream about you. Did you know there were four pairs of your panties in the laundry basket you left? They smell amazing. Can't wait to taste the real thing and wake up next to you and not your little lacy thongs. I'll take them for now though.

Chirp.

E. Outlaw - The vibrator doesn't hold on to your scent like the panties do, but knowing where it's been? Be ready for something bigger baby.

I stared at the phone until Keane took it out of my hand and dropped it on the floor before moving to stomp on it with his boot.

"NOO!" I screamed trying to grab for it. I heard my fingers crunch before I felt it, staring down horrified.

Keane cried out like a wounded animal and dropped down next to me after stumbling back. His huge hands fluttered around my bent and broken fingers.

"Little luv, why would ya do that?" he cried in anguish. "It's just a damn phone! A damn phone that was crushin' your soul!"

"I... I... ohhh! I need it. I need it to show the sheriff. To... oooh... I think... oh god. I have to prove..."

"Easy luv, easy. Look at me little luv, You'll be needin' the hospital and I can't drive ya and ya caint drive yourself."

"The phone," I managed, using my elbow to point at the phone I had managed to shove out of the way before his boot had crushed my fingers. I was cradling the bent fingers in my other hand, trying not to touch them. The pain was sharp and dull, pulsing back and forth with my heartbeat. Don't call 911, it's not an emergency. Umm. The sheriffs card. It's on my desk. Can you call his number?"

"How? There's no buttons to push!"

"Hold your finger... OHH! Oh god. Umm. Hold your finger on the screen, then swipe up with your finger. There's an icon on the bottom, looks like a phone. Tap it with your finger. See the icon with the little dots on the bottom? Hit that. Now touch the numbers like they are buttons."

"Fuckin' hell!" he snapped, then shoved the phone at me, at my good hand. "I'll get the fuckin card, you make the gadget work!"

I was trembling, but I managed to get to the screen and dial the number when he read it to me from the card. He helped me to the door to wait for the sheriff. "I'll stay here and wait for ya' Luv, Lia and I. I'll finish up your furniture. If I'm not here when you get back, I'll be back as quick as I can after work. I'm so sorry Mo Shíorghrá, I only meant to break the damn phone so he couldn't hurt ya anymore."

"I know," I said quickly, trying not to pant. I was a little upset that he wasn't going to go with me, but I understood. "It's ok, really. I know it was an accident. I just need the phone and the messages to show the sheriff, so he can see what Eric is."

"I shoulda considered that, I just hated seein' ya so torn up every damn time the stupid thing went off. Do ya forgive me Mo Shíorghrá?"

I smiled wanly, trying to brave through the pain. "If you tell me what that means," I teased as I saw lights coming down the street.

"You'll know soon enough. Fuckin' google, right?"

"Yeah," I half laughed, still shaking.

The sheriff met me halfway up the walk and took my arm, leading me to the passenger seat of his car. At least he didn't put me in the back. "You like to tell me what happened?" he asked.

I considered my answer carefully. If I told him a man had stomped my hand, any excuse would sound like exactly that. An excuse. "I suck at building furniture," I answered. I couldn't stop shaking. "I thought I had the dresser right, and the drawers, but it stuck and then it wasn't stuck and my fingers were there... then there was a loud crunch and it was my fingers. I couldn't drive, I didn't want to call an ambulance. Sorry to call so late."

"Mmmph," he grunted.

"I guess now's a good time to talk to you anyway," I said, laying my head back. I told him everything. Why I was here, what Eric had done. I read him the texts even though I was mortified to read the last two out loud. He was scowling angrily by the time we got the the emergency room two towns over.

"And this boy is a police officer?" he asked, taking the phone and looking at the messages now that he was parked.

"Yeah. St Charles P.D., outside of Chicago."

"God damn pud," he spat, then handed my phone back and got out of his car. He came around and helped me out, walking me inside.

"Thanks for the ride," I offered, then headed for the woman behind the little desk. He stayed with me, leading me to it. "You don't have to stay?"

"Come this far. How will you get home? This girls been hurt, broke up all her fingers there," he said to the woman.

"Oh! Yes she has, I will call a triage nurse right up! There, she's on her way. Do you have her ID? Are you dad?"

"No ma'am, Ms Estevon, do you have your ID?"

"I forgot it at home!" I said dismally. "I wasn't thinking about it, all I have is my phone. I don't have my wallet or purse or anything!"

"Are you a relative sir?"

"No, she has no close relatives, I'm just the person she knew. I can vouch for the girl, her name is Brielle Estevon." He spelled out my name to her as the triage nurse came out to lead me back. He followed me like it was the most normal thing in the world for him to do.

Should I tell him no? Tell him to wait in the lobby? I couldn't be rude after he drove me out here and was planning on waiting for me. He probably had more questions about Eric. That's all it was, right? Ugh. I needed to learn to read people better.

As it turned out, he sat mostly quiet in the corner of the room, scowling down at his phone and tapping away. They gave me pain killers, set my fingers and splinted them, then gave me more, painkillers. Better painkillers.

I was already feeling groggy as I listened to the nurse tell Sheriff Last that I would probably be falling asleep soon and that they were giving me a prescription that could be picked up and what I needed to do to care for my injury.

My head was swimming when he led me out to his car.

"Can you hear me girl, you got your head on you?" he asked loudly when he got in.

"I hear you," I answered sleepily.

"Ran your friend Eric Outlaw. Got his information. He took personal leave starting tomorrow, seven days. You think he would show up here?"

"Know he would," I whispered, half asleep now.

"Mmph," he answered, then started the car.

I was hot. Stifling hot and sweating. Ugh. I kicked the blankets off and pain shot through my hand, making me squeak in surprised pain.

"Thought you'd never wake up girl," Sheriff Last groused. I was in my room, in my bed and he had pulled a chair in from the living room.

"You are in my house?" I asked groggily, trying to shield my hurt hand from touching anything.

"It was unlocked and you weren't getting yourself in here. I picked up your pills, they are there on your nightstand. Glass of water too. Why do you keep it so damn hot in here?"

"I don't," I answered falling back into my pillows. "Furnace is busted. I turn it off and it comes right back on. Keeps the house at 88 if I don't stay on it. I thought I would try and tape it down. Ugh. Since you are here, can I ask a favor? Open the window and shut the heater off? I need to try and use the ladies room."

He didn't respond, just stood and went to the window as I rolled out of bed and tottered to the bathroom. I was both happy and upset to note that he had only removed my shoes. Unbuttoning my pants left handed and getting them down took more effort and energy than I actually had. I had to pee badly enough that it actually became a race. Wouldn't that be wonderful? Thankfully it was a non-issue as I sat trying to catch my breath.

Getting them back up was just as fun. Note to self: loose pants and yoga pants till my hand was healed, no more skinny jeans. I peeked out , my pants still undone and dodged into the little room that was my closet. I traded the jeans for some linen pajama pants and the sweater for a t-shirt.

When I came out, he was in the kitchen, pouring himself a cup of coffee. From the looks, it wasn't his first.

"Thanks for taking me, and bringing me home, and making sure I was ok. Sorry for being a jerk the other day."

"Mmmph. I can scramble a few eggs and make toast. You aint supposed to take them pills on an empty stomach."

"You don't have to do that! I have taken enough of your time!"

"I have the day off and if that boy decides to show up, I want to be here."

"Well you know he won't come around if he sees a sheriff car parked out front?" I said, pouring myself some coffee.

"Parked up around Don's place."

"Still, I don't want to take up your day off," I said, supremely uncomfortable. "I'm sure your family would rather have you home."

"Divorced and it aint my weekend," he said, moving the other living room chair to the front window. He opened it, having to prop it open with a stick that was in the sill, like it was there for that purpose. "I sent a message to my friend Owen. He'll fix your furnace. He should be along shortly."

"The single one?" I asked with dread.

"Nope. You made it clear you didn't want to meet Gene. That boy, he'll be driving a rental car, right?"

"Probably, why? Do you see a rental car?"

"No, just making sure. Ease up girl. Scrambled ok?"

"Sure, I'm not picky."

I watched him move around my kitchen with a familiarity I didn't even have yet. In under ten minutes, I was sitting in front of a plate of food. His plate was easily three times as big as mine and I watched him eat wide eyed. Why was it that tall, skinny men always ate the most? I could only eat half of mine and he finished it off before taking both plates to the sink and washing them, all without speaking. He topped off his coffee and went to sit in front of the window.

I paced.

"Sit down girl, you'll drive me up the wall. Maybe take one of them pills."

"I am not a huge fan of pills that make me feel like I am not in control. If the pain is tolerable, it's better than being zonked."

He turned and looked at me, an assessing look, like he was trying to tell if I was serious or not. I swallowed, uncomfortable with the scrutiny, especially when his gaze lingered on my t-shirt, in the space where most women's breasts would be. I had them, they were just small. Hardly there unless you looked for them. When he turned back to the window, I looked down and noticed that while my breasts hardly made a wave in the fabric, my nipples were hard as rocks and poking the fabric out like little pebbles. Maybe I should have found a bra. It wasn't something I normally had to worry about, but with two windows open, there was enough cold air coming in to make it an issue. I crossed my arms over my chest and hunkered down.

"Do you really think he will get here this early?" I asked after twenty minutes of sitting quietly.

"Naw. Probably not. He'd've had to've got a plane last night and drove here from the airport. Not impossible, but not likely. If he flies in, it'll be today, maybe tomorrow. You have your phone with you?"

"Oh, no. I left it in the bedroom," I said hopping up and hurrying to my room, ignoring my throbbing fingers. I grabbed my phone and looked at it. Two messages. I swallowed hard and started back out to the living room slowly. I opened them.

E. Outlaw - That was the wrong move baby.

M. Estevon - Got your message, glad you are settling in. Love you too. Set you up a hidden account at the bank there with a 'Laura Emmerson'. Talk to her Monday, she will tell you how it works. It's in my name, but yours to use. Call Ramona when you can, she is having a hard time. All our love, E.E.

I went to Sheriff Last and showed him the text from Eric.

"Mmph. Someone told him his name was searched in the database from here. He'll know you spoke to me. He may be expecting me now. If he is the kind of guy I think he is, it won't matter. Give me a minute girl," he said, pulling out his phone. He began tapping away on it.

"My name is Brielle," I said softly, sitting back down.

"I know your name, girl," he grunted, still tapping away.

I paced. He tapped away for ten minutes, texting faster than I ever had. I took his mug and refilled his coffee. He grunted as he took it and sipped it. Finally, he put the phone down. "Owen's here. I'll let him in," he said, getting up and opening the door.

Owen was at least seventy years old. Maybe eighty. He smiled at me, a happy, bright smile that made me smile back. Sheriff Last walked him to the basement door and I listened, wondering if I should follow them. Sheriff Last came right back out and sat down.

"He went down alone?" I asked, surprised. "Did he have a flashlight?"

"Yup," he answered. I guessed that was the answer to both questions. Now I was worried about the old man. I stood and paced, trying hard to ignore the pain. "Girl," Sheriff Last said. That was all.

I stopped pacing and looked at the door to the laundry room. "Are you sure he should be down there alone?"

"Owen's well acquainted with this house girl. He was a long time friend to Alejandra."

"Oh," I offered, still watching the laundry room.

"That crazy old fucker!" Sheriff Last cursed, jumping up. He shot out the front door and I went to the window. Donald Everett was in his yard naked as the day he was born, standing next to the road, pumping on his dick like a madman. I watched, wide eyed. He was going at it so hard, I worried he might give himself a heart attack.

Sheriff Last hurried to him, yelling. "Don, god damn it, I TOLD you that you cannot do that out here! You can't come outside with no clothes and you can't get that thing out and play with it in public! Do I need to run you in for public indecency? Put you in a home? Is that what I need to do?"

"Fuck all that Tom! Lookit there, Lena is watching, she loves it! She wants this big cock, don't you Lena?"

"Don! If you don't shut your filthy mouth and get in your house, I WILL arrest you. You will never see your house again, I will have you fucking committed!"

"Awwe, fuck you Tom," Don said, waving Sherrif Last away and stumbling back to his house, still jerking on his dick.

As Sheriff Last came back, shaking his head, I backed away from the window. He came back in, his face red and wouldn't look at me as he sat down hard in the chair. I was so tense, I jumped when Owen spoke up behind me.

"Th'aint nuthin wrong with thuh furnace Tom. It's runnin' jus' fine. Turned off, on, all the 'lectric's runnin just fine. Cain't see as anything could be kickin' it on. I'll take a look at the therm'stat," he said in a drawl that made me struggle to understand him.

Sheriff Last grunted and turned back to the window as Owen went down the hall. I felt every hair in my body stand on end and a feeling of dread welled up in me. I felt sick. Panic clawed at my throat and I backed away from the kitchen fearfully.

"O-owen? Did you close the door to the basement?" I asked fearfully.

"Naw, chile', thought I mighta hadda go back down," he called back.

A whimper came out of my throat involuntarily.

"Girl?" Sheriff Last asked, in front of me suddenly. "What is it you see," he asked. He actually sounded wary.

"N-nothing... I just feel... it. I don't know what..."

"From the basement?" he asked in confusion. "This basement? Are you sure it's coming from THIS basement?"

"Yes! It's bad... can you feel it?"

He grunted as he marched back to the laundry room. I heard him slam the door and more scraping like he had replaced the mop handle I had used to wedge it shut. He came back out, scowling at nothing, lost in thought.

What was it? Did he know why it felt so creepy? The feeling was starting to fade.

"Is it still there?" he asked, turning back to me, his gaze piercing a hole in me.

"Not as bad. It's... receding. Do you know what it is?"

He grunted, then went to the kitchen, looking out the back window. He stood a moment, then came back as Owen came down the hall, smiling congenially.

"C'aint see as ana'thins wrong Tom. It's all a' checkin' out just fine."

"It's fine Owen, thanks for stopping in. How's Miranda and the grandkids?"

"Good, good Tom. Chile', you fall onna playground?"

My face flushed and Sheriff Last waved me off quickly. "She closed her hand in a drawer. Thanks again Owen. I need to make another call and get a few things done now. Good seeing you."

"Yaw, you too Tom. Chile'," he offered, nodding at me, then he left with his happy, contagious smile.

Sheriff Last dropped the smile like it had never existed and pulled out his phone again.

Tap tap tap.

Damn it! What happened to cops talking on the phone? I wanted to know what was going on! I could glean SOMETHING from half a conversation, but NOTHING from tap tap tap. I paced.

"Girl!"

"What? No one is telling me anything, it's nervous energy! It's my house!"