"I've been having a hard time adjusting
I had the shiniest wheels, now they're rusting
I didn't know if you'd care if I came back
I have a lot of regrets about that"

- Taylor Swift, "this is me trying"

Chapter Twelve 

It was dark when I woke up.

I was entirely bewildered and groggy in the passenger seat as I pushed myself up. My strained neck and shoulder didn't hesitate to let their protests be known. I'd slid into a slouched position while sleeping, but hell—it'd been a good sleep. The best I'd had all week. That was enough to fuddle any thought process I could've conjured. I was confused, thirsty, and absolutely positive the window had gifted my forehead a bright red mark.

Streetlights chased themselves over my face as I became acutely aware of a few disorienting facts. I had no idea what state we were in. I had no idea where we were going. I had no idea how long we had left to drive.

I peered around the dark car with the confused stupor of a drunk. Rolo was curled up in the backseat, asleep as I'd been only moments before, and Sterling's features were sharp in the faint light from the dashboard. My tongue was sticky in my dry mouth; my voice was only a croak. "What time is it?"

"After ten. We stopped a few times for Rolo, but he's been sleeping too, for the most part," Sterling said. I couldn't believe it; he still seemed bright-eyed, bushy-tailed, and fully alert as he drove.

"After ten? Damn."

My hand rubbed my stiff neck and painful shoulder. There was never a good way to sleep in the car. "Are we almost there?"

"Almost. You know, you could've reclined the seat to be more comfortable. It probably would've helped your neck."

I groaned, feeling more and more certain my neck was bent forever. "I'm pretty sure that's illegal while the car's moving."

Sterling's lips curved into a faint smile.

That was cute. Wait, no. No, it wasn't.

"Really?" He deadpanned.

"It's illegal! Aren't you some government contractor or something?"

Truthfully, I didn't care about that at all. After the week I'd had, I couldn't care less about the safety of a reclined seat. I was just argumentative after waking up from a nap and irritable at the suggestion. It was perfectly reasonable—but it would've been nice several hours earlier.

"I'll keep my suggestions to myself next time."

"Good," I sulked. "You do that."

I rubbed my neck as I tiredly leaned over to look out my window. Gone was the scrublands and beige desert, now startlingly replaced by large trees and dense vegetation. Process of elimination told me we were in northern California; it was the only place with that kind of forest within a day's drive. 

After a few miles of endless trees and uncomfortable silence, the car leaned, and Rolo's head perked as we slowed to exit the highway. A small, rickety sign on the side of the road was the only noticeable marker to tell where we were. The wooden post was half hidden in ivy, but it faintly read "WELCOME TO ASHLAKE" in a font I was sure had fallen out of use a few decades before.

The next few turns told me everything I needed to know.

One, we were nowhere near a city. Two, there was a good chance of getting eaten by a bear. And three—I was going to be stuck in the middle of the woods with Sterling.

We won't last twenty-four hours. We'll kill each other.

We eventually pulled onto a thin, winding road. It was just barely wide enough for two cars, lined with a basic, weathered wooden fence. It looked straight out of a Winnie the Pooh picture book that'd been read too many times. No houses could be seen behind the trees, only narrow driveway openings and rusted mailboxes visible between the dangerously blind curves. Some driveways were decorated with aged political signs, religious exclamations, and faded American flags. It was a far cry from the shiny marble city I was supposed to be in.

The city I'll probably never get to, now.

Sterling was focused as we pulled into a driveway and slowly rolled towards a dark house. It was tucked far back from the road and cloaked by the evening; I could hardly make it out.

When it finally came into sight, I was surprised. The cabin was by no means rundown, as I'd partly expected, but rather rustic chic. The dark wooden exterior of the house even bordered on homey, with a set of stairs going up to a deep red door and large trees densely surrounding the lot. A small shed could be seen among thick greenery a hundred feet from the back. On the porch, a gently swaying swing faced a large yard.

Rolo will love that. If the warden allows it, I'd love to sit and watch him, too.

The car came to a stop. The overhead light was quick to illuminate the car, and Sterling let out a chuckle at my uneasy expression.

"This is the safehouse?"

"What were you expecting, a shack on the side of the road?"

"Not a shack, exactly..." I trailed off, craning my neck to look at the frontier-style architecture before us, before clarifying, "—but definitely not a forest vacation home, either."

"Sorry to disappoint. Stay in the car."

As he got out, the swing of his door allowed in the deafening calls of cicadas and frogs, astonishing my city ears. My time in urban apartments had allowed me to forget how loud nature could be. The symphony in my ears did not affect my eyes, however. I could see Sterling raise his hand before walking away, a gesture for me to stay.

Like a dog. He's giving me commands like a dog.

He was stealthy as he went up the porch steps to the door. In a moment, he'd entered and disappeared.

It was loud outside. Quieter, with the door closed. Quieter, without Sterling. So quiet; a quiet that filled the car like water flooded lungs. A stale silence that felt incredibly uncomfortable and left too much room for unwelcome thoughts.

If he doesn't come back or I hear something, I'll just drive away. Great plan. Except... where would I even go? And would I really just leave him behind to fend for himself?

The keys sat on the driver's seat. It was clear I was a flyer and not a fighter, but would I be able to leave Sterling if I had to? It's not like I'd be much help to him if I stayed. I'd be useless in an emergency—just like I was that night.

Still, could I really just drive away?

Stop.

I was overthinking, giving unnecessary anxiety to my already exhausted body. Nothing had happened. The chance of something happening was... alright, it was admittedly higher than I'd like, but it was too much. Too much; I was already planning to run if I needed to. I was already planning what I'd say to Sterling's loved ones.

Thankfully, I was shut down by Sterling casually walking down the steps.

The embarrassment was as bad as the anxiety. I was silently mortified by how quickly my thoughts had managed to spin out of control over a made-up scenario.

Sterling, who had no idea I'd been ready to abandon him at the first sign of danger, pulled my door open.

"All clear," he confirmed. He held out his hand, and I took it guiltily, letting him help me out of the car. My legs were slightly numb; blood pounded back into my extremities as Sterling leaned over and opened Rolo's door.

Rolo was like me. He ran away from Sterling and left him behind. My dog flew out of the car with a canine glee and raced off. He was just as thrilled as I was to be out of the car, but his exit was far more graceful than mine.

"You'll be safe here. There's some safety protocols we'll need to discuss, but we'll go over everything once we're inside."

I nodded, my eyes still on my dog. Rolo zoomed across the large yard with a happiness no one could steal. His brown body periodically whipped around at any rustle in the trees, and I pitied the squirrels who'd wake to an unwanted neighbor. Rolo's ears interchanged from floppy to stiff, his legs varied from trotting to sprinting, and his grin permanently went from large to huge. He all but face-planted into the clover.

Sterling appeared by my side. My bags were once again slung over his shoulder, but a black duffel I didn't recognize was gripped in one hand.

I nodded at the bag. "Did you expect we'd have to go to a safehouse?"

"I'm prepared for anything I could possibly need to be prepared for."

"So you're a boy scout, then? With a go-bag in your car all of the time?"

"Come on, let's get inside. We have a lot to talk about." Sterling led the way, whistling for Rolo as he walked up the steps.

I was still full of questions. "Do you have keys to all of the safehouses?"

"I have a master key. Only Quentin and I have one."

The door was sturdy when he swung it open. The house was bashfully silent and dark as Sterling guided me in. He flipped on a light, and I greeted the place I'd call home for too long with little celebration.

To match the sweet woodsy scene outside was a cozy living room, a large fireplace front and center. It was as if my great-Granny Esther had been invited to do a cover of Country Living; the room had been decorated to match our surroundings in a tasteful mesh of rural charm and modern eccentricities. It wasn't my style, but it was endearing, nonetheless.

My dog didn't notice. He thundered in and took off like he owned the place. Every ounce of training had been tossed out the window, but I didn't have the energy to care. 

Sterling locked the door behind me before turning to the glowing security pad next to the door. Deja vu cackled in my ears and swung its fist at my chest. Like the night we'd met, Sterling typed in a long code, and the pad beeped as house-wide protections engaged. I was locked inside with Sterling: a stranger I was forced to entrust too much to.

"The house is armed, so don't go outside unless I know about it. During the day, it'll be different, but for now you need to stay inside," he said. I nodded.

What am I going to do, pick daisies and hope no one finds me?

Sterling gave me a quick tour of the house. The downstairs was made up of a kitchen, half bath, living room, and dining room. Upstairs, a main bedroom and an office were the main attractions, while two bedrooms and a small bathroom took up the rest. The main bedroom filled one side of the hall; the smaller bedrooms and bathroom took up the other. The office sat in the very middle, directly across from the stairs.

Assuming one of the smaller bedrooms was for me, I pushed open the door to peer around the dark room.

"Home sweet home," I murmured.

"That's not your room," Sterling said from down the hall. I looked at him, confused, before turning to the other small bedroom.

"Nope," Sterling added. He pushed open the door to the main bedroom and jerked his thumb towards the space behind him. "This one's yours."

"No, it's not," I said dumbly. I'd assumed Sterling would automatically take the largest room, but he stared back, bemused.

"Yes, it is. Now c'mon."

The main bedroom was beautiful. Another fireplace stood across from the large bed and embroidered drapes guarded the windows. Paintings of waterfalls and towering redwoods scattered the walls; other variously tiny accents around the room gave impressive finishing touches to the lovely decor. As I closed the drapes, Rolo ran in. He snorted and sniffed as he took in his new surroundings.

I was glad at least one of us had some excitement about the situation.

Sterling disappeared when my back turned, but he soon reappeared with my bags and a water bowl for Rolo. When he put them down, he spoke with a seriousness all too familiar.

"Alright, ground rules. No leaving the property. Never go out of view of the house. Never call anyone or say your real name. It's extremely unlikely anyone will come by, but if they do, you're not Avery. You've never heard of the Attorney General and you're not entirely sure what one does. No, you don't live here. No, you don't need to register to vote. And no, you don't need to buy whatever they're selling. Understand?"

I stared.

Sterling didn't notice or didn't care enough to address my hesitation. His firm, military tone left no room for discussion. "I'll need your phone, laptop, and any other electronic devices."

No phone. No way to call for help. Middle of the woods with a stranger. Great. Good.

"My watch," I warily admitted. I slipped it off and handed it over along with my phone.

"And your laptop?"

I could live without my smartwatch. I could live without my phone, maybe. But I couldn't survive without my laptop. I couldn't work without some sort of device, and if I wasn't working, I wasn't moving. I was treading water, and that was death in careers like mine. There was swimming and there was sinking. Ultimately, there was no treading. My final buoy left was my laptop. I could hand over my life and my control to Sterling—but I couldn't hand over my computer.

"Avery," he urged.

"I can't just go off the grid."

"You have to."

Did Sterling know? Did he know what I was being forced to do? The corner I'd been shoved in?

Did Sterling know there was no way Ambassador Baros would understand? That the water was my career, and it was too easy to slip through my fingers? If I stopped swimming, I'd never recover.

To make matters worse, I couldn't explain. I couldn't call Baros. Would it even matter if I could? There were no valid excuses. There were no good reasons. Gun violence didn't cause enough fear in the officials marching around D.C. to make them understand the predicament I faced.

"Avery," he prodded again.

I withdrew the dagger that'd killed my career and handed it over with my laptop. Sterling took it silently, turning to leave with my buoy in hand. A headache was starting to creep across my skull.

I stepped forward when he neared the door. "What about people calling me? My family? People that know me? My best friend knows I wouldn't just leave without saying goodbye. I'm supposed to be in D.C. on Monday."

"Tomorrow, Avery. It's been a long day." Sterling glanced at me as if appraising my stability for the night. I got what he meant—it'd been a long day for me, and he wasn't sure if I could handle anymore.

My pride whimpered its final words in my ear. My dignity held its hand and knew it was next. But maybe Sterling was right. "Fine."

I turned, yanking my bag closer to me on the bed. The zipper was loud, and so was the floor as Sterling got to the door. It creaked his farewell—but then he stopped.  My movements slowed as I waited for him to say something.

It was quiet. I didn't like the quiet.

Right as the silence got to be too much, and I was about to turn around, he finally spoke. "I'm right down the hall if you need me. The security system's up, and we would've shaken off anyone following you. You're safe here."

My hands stilled on the zipper. I took a deep breath before responding, forcing my lungs to open and fill so I could say something back. I kept my back turned.

"Thank you."

It wasn't much of a response. I'd tried to pour as much sincerity into it as I could, but I knew I'd failed in my anger. There were more than one million words in the English language—but I still felt incapable of using them.

What was I even supposed to say? Sorry you're trapped in a safehouse with me? Thank you for saving me, again? Hope we don't kill each other from cabin fever? It felt fake and insincere before even reaching my tongue, and I couldn't stand the cheapness. Besides, deep down, I knew what he'd say. He'd say it was his job, and I wouldn't know how to respond; it'd get awkward, and I'd toss and turn all night, beating myself up over it.

"Goodnight, Avery."

I finally turned to wish him goodnight, but I saw the door swing shut, and the words died in my throat as the resounding click echoed back. There was only the half-asleep dog on the bed and the anxiety thrumming in my veins to hear me.

This chapter ended up being so long I had to split it into two chapters! The other chapter will be uploaded today as well.

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- H