Clay
The perimeter check takes forty minutes. Nixie has me do them multiple times a day, and sometimes it takes well over an hour. This morning Khodi even had to call me back over the radio to tell me I missed the checkpoint near the cornfield. I never miss anything.
“You good, boss?” Khodi asks when I get back to the gate.
“Fine,” I say.
He doesn’t push, but I catch him exchanging a look with Brooks, and I don’t like that they are analyzing one mistake, my only mistake. I decide to hand off the rest to the day shift, then I sit in my car at the edge of the residential side of the island.
When I told Kayla she was mine, it caught me by surprise. I never say anything I don’t mean. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it. Though I figured it would bother me a hell of a lot more than it does.
Before Vero’s episode, she knew I was around, and I would find myself at the bar most nights she was working. Since then, I have been keeping an eye on her without her knowing. Sitting outside the bar eases my mind that she is okay on her walk home.
This afternoon is no different, but she hasn’t been to work in a few days, which concerns me. I considered storming into the bar and demanding answers, but I haven’t, on the off chance it gets back to her and she never speaks to me again. I’m hoping she just needs time to cool down.
Looking at my phone, I see there are no messages. And why would there be? Kayla told us to get the fuck out of her life, and I don’t blame her. I told them to give her space, yet I’m the one who can’t stay away. I have to make sure she is safe.
I put the car in drive, but I don’t plan to go too far into town, convincing myself I’m just going to the hardware store to get a new latch for the gate near the circus tent. I need the part—it has been loose for a week—but the hardware store is conveniently only a few blocks from Kayla’s house. Surely it wouldn’t hurt to swing past and make sure she is okay.
You would think the drive would be long enough to talk myself out of it, but it’s not. I get the latch and head toward her place, and when I get there, Mabel is outside watering her plants. Kayla walks outside and talks to her for a few minutes.
I wait and follow her as she continues walking alongthe street, and though I notice she glances over her shoulder, she doesn’t see me. I pull over and wait for her to round the corner, and then I get out and follow her on foot. She walks to a store and stands at the window, reading the sign they have taped to it before going inside. So I lean against the wall across the street and wait.
Through the window, I can see her moving between aisles. She picks things up and reads the back of them before she puts them in her basket, stopping to say something to the man stacking the shelves, and as he laughs, I ball my hands into fists. Kayla doesn’t smile the way she would at Vero, and it’s the only thing saving that man’s life right now. She comes out with one bag and a small bag of potatoes, and turns in the direction of her home. I follow, needing to make sure she gets back safely.
Kayla turns left into a narrow street that runs along the back of an old bakery. It’s not her usual route, so I give her a few minutes before I head down there, knowing there is nowhere for me to hide if I go in too soon.
When I peer around, she is gone. I scan the area and see there are two doors and a small gap between the buildings, so I shuffle along the side of the building. Something hard connects with the side of my face, and I stumble sideways into the building.
“Leave me alone.”
I turn and find her standing in the gap with the bag of potatoes still swinging in her hand. I burst into laughter. I can’t say I’ve ever been assaulted with potatoes before, though my head is still ringing, and I smirk at her.
“You didn’t think,” I say, righting myself, “that I’d tell you that you’re mine and not keep an eye on you, did you?”
“I think you should look up the definition of fucking boundaries, Clay, because clearly you haven’t had them explained to you before.”
“I know what they are,” I reply, which is not a strong defense. It makes her mad, but I really enjoy it when she is pissed at me.
“So you know you just bulldozed through mine.”
I cross my arms. “You just clocked me with potatoes.”
“And I will do it again,” she threatens as she raises the bag in the air. “I mean it, leave me alone. You made it clear from the moment I stepped foot on the island that you didn’t want me around, yet now you’re following me around like some lovesick puppy.”
I scoff. “Lovesick... don’t flatter yourself. I just don’t like other people touching what’s mine.”
“I’m not fucking yours, Clay.”
“You are.”
There is no point denying it; I can’t stay away and I have zero plans of trying.
“That isn’t how it works,” she throws back.
“It’s how I work.”
She laughs and shakes her head at me.