Page 65 of No Need to Run
I scroll through slowly, studying the living room. Kitchen. Master bedroom. Bathroom. Another bedroom.
It needs some love and care, but everything looks fixable.
I click back to the main page, my gaze landing on the contact number.
I look at the time. It’s too late to call.
“Tomorrow,” I mutter.
I set my phone aside and lie back on the bed.
The ceiling stares back at me, quiet and familiar.
For the first time, it doesn’t feel like home.
14
VIOLET
The morning grassis damp with dew, the air still cool despite the rising sun.
My boots are soundless as I slip between the pines before Drew steps out of the house.
The back deck sits just high enough that I have a clear line of sight through the slats of the railing. The early morning light filters through the trees, soft and golden, catching on the rim of his coffee mug as he leans against the wood.
The door opens, and there he is. Casually dressed in a pair of jeans and a T-shirt.
The sight shouldn’t make my mouth water like this, but damn. The man looks fine as hell.
He’s barefoot. A mug in one hand, his phone in the other.
He looks… thoughtful.
I settle deeper behind the pines, adjusting my position slightly so the branches don’t scratch against my cheek. The ground is damp beneath me, but Drew is worth the discomfort.
Drew lifts the mug to his lips, staring out toward the woods like he’s searching for something.
“Oh, fuck it,” he murmurs.
My brows lift.
He sets the mug on the railing, his fingers moving over his phone. I lean forward slightly, being careful not to disturb the shrubs around me.
“Hi,” he says, pacing across the deck. “I saw the sign in front of the house on 291 Old Mill Road.”
Interesting.
I’ve walked past that place several times during my walks through Hollow Creek. Before I reintroduced myself to Drew.
The small ranch house is tucked back just enough from the road to feel separate without being isolated.
It needs work.
The yard is overgrown, the shutters crooked.
But it has potential.
“Yeah,” he continues, running a hand through his hair. “I’d like to make an appointment to see it.”
