Page 51 of Don't Leave Me Behind
“Sit your ass back down!” he hollers from behind me. “Clayton Sue Traeger! Tell me your secrets!” He’s screaming as I make my way out of the office. Deputy Clark quirks an eyebrow as I pass.
“Don’t have a middle name.” I grin.
“Sounds like you do,” he grunts. He’s quiet, more reserved, like Brooks. A couple of years younger than Mercer and me, and probably closer to Toby’s age. I don’t know that much about him, but I know Mercer has mentored him. I know he plays one hell of a poker game. Last time we played, he cleaned house. Toby was furious.
“Nah, the Kane boys didn’t like that they all got triple-named, and I never did. They gave it to me.”
“Like I said.” He gives me a wicked grin. “Sounds like you do, Sue.”
“Fucking goddamn it,” I curse as I get into my cruiser. My phone vibrates in my pocket.
Mercer
I swear to God
if I have to camp outside the cabin to learn your secrets…I will
You have to have better things to do with your time
Sheriff
Mercer
I. Don’t. Like. Secrets
Yea well I don’t like nosy little bitches
Mercer
Watch it. Or I’ll take this to the group chat.
I’ll get there Merc. There are some things I know that aren’t mine to share
Mercer
Fine. Have your secrets.
Let them eat you alive
*evil laugh*
asshole.
Chapter 16
What I Want is Fried Pickles
Leni
I wakeup with my arms wrapped around Clay’s pillow, his spicy rustic scent flooding my senses. It must be mid-morning, seeing as the light is pouring in through the front windows, leaving my room warm and cozy.
My phone dings once, alerting me to a new voicemail. I assume it was the missed phone call that woke me. Heaving a sigh, I roll myself over and reach for my phone that’s charging on my nightstand. The missed call is a number I don’t recognize, but it’s a Benson area code. I open the voicemail app, hit speaker, and stretch out across the bed as I listen.
“Hello, this message is for Eleanor Kane. My name is Daniel Riley, and I’m calling from Rosemont Prep. We have reviewed your application and would love to schedule an interview with you sometime next week to see if you would be a good fit for our students and teaching program. You can reach me at this number. I have also sent an email to the one you provided on your resume. Feel free to email back at your earliest convenience. We look forward to hearing from you.”
I wait, willing my heart to leap for joy, or at the very least asmile to crack my face. But nothing happens. Teaching was my life, but I think I enjoyed it because I did what I wanted. I created the program, the curriculum that I taught, and I never had to go off of what someone else wanted. It was exactly what I needed in my pursuit of independence.
With a sigh, I scroll through my social media, looking for something inspiring to do. With riding and hiking out of the question, I’m stuck inside the cabin. I brought my Kindle with me, but every time I pick it up, I can’t focus. My brain’s too busy wondering what it would look like to let Clayton in.
