Cheyenne (A Timeless Series Novel) Read online

  I felt so numb.

  A cool washcloth touched my forehead, and I came back to my senses with a deep breath. The sheriff was speaking quietly on his phone. “Joni, I think you need to come by the Wilsons’ place. Cheyenne passed out when I told her. I’d feel better if you came. I’m not sure what to do for her.” He paused. “Okay, see you in a few.”

  Forcing my eyelids to open, I watched him bend down in front of me. “Cheyenne, my wife Joni is coming. She’s a nurse, and I want her to check you out. She’ll be here shortly. I need you to just stay still and rest. I’ll be right back. I’m going to get you a glass of water.”

  I nodded and closed my eyes. I heard him moving around in the kitchen. Quickly returning, he placed the water on the table before me. Vaguely aware of his presence, I stared out the small window as he paced the floor. This had to be a mistake. My parents would be arriving soon, and they’d clear this whole mess up.

  “Cheyenne?” the sheriff’s rough voice said, but I didn’t reply as he leaned down again and touched my arm. It was an effort to keep breathing.

  Headlights broke the darkness—Joni had arrived. The sheriff went to open the door, and his wife made a direct beeline for me. She asked me a few questions as I drank some water. I managed to compose myself enough to answer. Moving to the couch beside me, she sat holding my hand as Sheriff Taylor began contemplating his next move.

  “You’re alone out here, is that right?” He was pacing the floor as his stubby hand began running through his thinning brown hair.

  “Yes.”

  He took a deep breath. “I’d like you to consider coming into town with us until we can locate some additional family for you.”

  Now, I was the one who took a deep breath. As much as I appreciated his concern, I just wanted to be alone until I could process that this was real. “I don’t have any other family. Gene and Alexis were my adoptive parents. My birth parents were killed when I was young.” I was surprised by my answer, as I had managed to say the words in a fairly calm, level tone.

  The sheriff blinked and exchanged a glance with Joni as she squeezed my fingers. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were adopted,” she said tenderly.

  “It’s alright; it’s not like we announce it. I don’t remember my birth parents.”

  “What about any aunts, uncles? Are there any grandparents that you know about?”

  “My parents didn’t have any family left. It was just the three of us.”

  The sheriff’s eyes saddened. He was hesitating and didn’t know what to say.

  “I’m eighteen, and technically I don’t require a guardian, but I’ll call my friend, if that will make you feel better,” I said firmly. “Right now, I would really like to be alone, if you don’t mind.” I needed to get them out of the house. I may have given them the impression that I was tough, but on the inside, I was crumbling away with every passing moment.

  “I’d really like for you to come with us regardless. I don’t think it would be…”

  I cut him off as I stood, touching his arm. “I’ll be fine. Please, I really don’t want to leave my house right now. I’ll let you know if I need anything.”

  We stood and stared at one another. A few tense moments passed before he relented. “I’ll be back out tomorrow to check on you.” He took Joni’s arm and led her to the door, only to turn around as he reached the hallway. “Do you promise you’ll call that friend of yours?”

  “Yes. I’ll call him as soon as you leave.”

  “Will he be able to come over?”

  “I don’t know, but I’ll call.”

  “Who?” His chin lifted and his jaw firmed as he called me on my lie.

  “Colt O’Shea; he’s a friend from school.”

  “Colt O’Shea,” he repeated, pulling the face from his memory. “The tall blonde kid?”

  “Yes.” I would contact Colt as soon as they left, but I didn’t know how soon he would be able to come. I was assuming he was already on his way out of town.

  The sheriff nodded and took Joni’s arm again as they walked towards the front door. “I’ll be back out tomorrow afternoon. Call me if you need anything.” I nodded. He had left his business card on the table.

  Standing in the doorway, I watched them enter their separate cars and drive down the long driveway. My strength faded with every passing second. I closed the door and bolted it behind me. I collapsed to the floor, my hand still holding the doorknob at an awkward angle, and began to sob. My heart was aching and every part of my being was crying out—screaming for my parents to return to me. All the words I should have said, all the love I should have shown. The three words that I would forever regret not saying…I love you.

  My world was crashing down around me, and the weight of the situation was crushing me. I was alone now—I had no one else. Such a short amount of time I had with them, only eighteen years.

  I stared unseeing at the equipment that was cluttering the small hall. I don’t know how long I sat there, but the torrent of tears finally subsided. My cheek was resting on the cold hard wood flooring, and my phone was still sitting on the end table by the couch. We were supposed to leave tonight…I would never have another minute with them, and never share another conversation.

  Crawling to the end table, I picked up the phone. I knew I would not be able to compose myself enough to talk to Colt so I would have to send him a text. “My parents were in an accident; they’re never coming home.” I hit send and waited. My heart sunk into further despair as the network error message displayed across my screen. I dropped the phone and began to weep anew.

  I managed to drag myself to my bed; the night was long and a never-ending deluge of tears and emotions flowed through me. The crying came in uncontrollable bouts, but somehow sleep found me and took away the pain. It was only temporary, as when I woke in the morning I realized it wasn’t a dream. It was real. My parents were gone from my life—forever.

  Chapter 2

  I fumbled my way through the following day by texting and trying to e-mail Colt unsuccessfully. The phone kept giving me network errors, and the internet was down as well. I vaguely remembered seeing a notice around from the phone company, saying they would be working on issues, and it may cause temporary outages. The same company provided the cell phone and internet. I was in no condition to drive to town and try a different method. I wanted to contact the sheriff, but I knew that if I did, he would become aware of my solitude. He would somehow force me to stay with him and his wife, and that wouldn’t work for me. I was better off at my own home. I didn’t need anyone hovering, constantly asking if I was alright.

  Sheriff Taylor and Joni arrived in the late afternoon and brought me lunch. I managed to keep my emotions under control with great restraint as I spent the afternoon with them. We ended up at the kitchen table.

  “Cheyenne,” the sheriff’s voice held such sympathy. “We need to talk about burial arrangements. I can drive you into town on Monday, and we can go to the funeral home.”

  I nodded. I knew this part was coming. Never once in my life did I ever think about burying my parents, and now I had to go to the funeral home on Monday.

  “Did you get ahold of Colt?” Joni questioned, as she squeezed my hand.

  “I’ve been texting him. He’ll get here as soon as he can.” It was the truth, though not the whole truth.

  The chair squeaked across the kitchen floor as Sheriff Taylor rose. “Joni,” he said softly as he glanced at her and then back at me. “We’re going to leave now, Cheyenne. You call me if you need anything, okay?” Once again, I nodded and followed them to the door. “I’ll be by around ten a.m.”

  Standing in the doorway, I watched as they drove away, once more wondering how I managed to avoid them forcing me to come to their home. They mentioned it once, but I touched his arm and told him I would be fine, and the sheriff didn’t push it anymore.

  I turned toward the entry, my eyes lingering on the forest, when I saw it—another dark misty shadow clin
ging to the trees. A shaky breath left my lips, and I blinked, fighting to clear my vision. I froze, staring at the unmoving object. Without warning, the hair on the nape of my neck began to rise. I closed my eyes briefly. I was imagining things again, imagining that someone was watching me. I shook it off and went back into the house, bolting the door behind me. I went into the kitchen to double-check that the back door was bolted also. I rewet the washcloth and headed straight for the couch. Lying down, I placed the wet cloth over my swollen lids as I rested. My head ached again, and my vision was blurring slightly. I would try texting Colt again soon. He’d reply and everything would be better…it had to be.

  The sheriff returned Monday morning and drove me to the funeral parlor. He helped with the decisions that needed to be made. I decided on cremation. Neither the gentlemen assisting us or the sheriff would come right out and say that it was a wise choice, but I understood that not much of my parents’ bodies remained. They would have the urn ready for me by the end of the week.

  I tried texting Colt again while in town and finally one message sent. I waited in earnest for a reply; none came. I longed for his presence. I needed him so desperately and had no way to tell him.

  The week passed quietly with frequent visits from the sheriff and his wife. I managed to drive into town and collect my parent’s remains. I knew what I wanted to do and where I wanted to go. Once home, I hiked the familiar trail that we had taken so many times alone. It was quiet and peaceful as I passed through the trees. We had walked this path many times in the last three years. This home was by far my favorite of all the locations we had lived.

  As I crested the small ravine, I looked down into the landscape below. This was my mother’s favorite spot. During the summer months, there would be a large patch of wildflowers growing off the side of the hill. I closed my eyes and replayed my memories of my parents. My mom would always bring a bouquet home with us afterwards. She said it was because she wanted the scent to remain fresh in her mind.

  I climbed down into the area where the flowers would grow, and sprinkled their ashes. Tears wet my lashes, as I thought of all the fond moments that we would never share again. I choked down the feelings that I would never be able to express and mourned the time that I would never spend with them. I sighed and set the small wooden urn down in the dirt. My eyes closed, as I let the tears continue to fall. They fell until I had no more to give.

  Time passed slowly, but it did pass. On Friday, exactly one week to the day my parents died, I was staring at the camping equipment still in the hallway. I hadn’t touched it. I knew they were gone, but I think deep down I still had hope they would just show up and we would leave. I needed to have things ready if they came. That’s why I left the items there. I just couldn’t move them—not yet.

  My head was beginning to get that familiar ache. I had been getting frequent headaches lately, and sometimes they were so bad that I was barely able to do much else but lie in a dark room. My parents and Colt knew about them, and they were concerned. I tried to hide it most of the time so they wouldn’t worry. I was sure this headache was just from all the crying I had done over the past week.

  Sunday morning arrived, and the throbbing in my head was even worse. Rounding the corner from the stairs, I tripped on a sleeping bag. I landed on the floor and sat there. My parents weren’t coming home, and the overwhelming emotions were building inside again. I had to get rid of these things. Every time I looked at them, it reminded me my mom and dad were gone. I rose to my feet and began dragging the items to the basement stairs through the pain of my pounding skull. Opening the door, I started tossing everything down. Each piece that I threw crushed my already broken heart more.

  The stove crashed open as it hit the basement floor. I threw the pots and lantern down after it; glass shattered. The box of utility items went next. The tent and all its parts smashed into the growing mess. The backpacks and then the sleeping bags were next. Standing numbly at the top of the stairs, I didn’t scream or cry.

  I was alone.

  I couldn’t do much else as I leaned against the doorframe and finally collapsed onto the floor. I knew Colt was supposed to be back today. I consoled myself with the fact that he would come over as soon as he could.

  Sometime later, there was a familiar knock on the front door. I didn’t move. A key turned in the lock, and the door opened. Colt knew where the hidden key was located on the porch, and he had used it.

  “Cheyenne?” his concerned voice rang out. His heavy footsteps stopped in the living room. “Cheyenne, where are you?” I didn’t answer as his pounding feet ran up the stairs.

  “Cheyenne!” his voice was growing more panicked as he ran back down the steps. He moved into the kitchen and stopped. He found me sitting at the top of the stairs with my back turned to him.

  “When did you get back?” my cracking voice asked.

  “This morning,” he replied sorrowfully as he moved closer. He squatted and turned me around.

  “I’ve missed you,” I whispered as my head hung low.

  He lifted his fingers to my chin and tilted it up. I looked up into his empathic eyes. “I just now received your text and voicemail messages,” he explained. “I’m so sorry.”

  “You’re here now.” Colt didn’t hesitate. He drew his strong, secure arms around me, and I latched on to him as if there was no tomorrow. He lifted me and carried me to the living room, where we sat on the couch. The flood of tears returned. I had worked so hard for the last week to keep my emotions under control around Sheriff Taylor and Joni. Now that Colt was here, it was like a dam had burst. I wanted to tell him how alone I felt, how my sobs echoed through the silent house, but I didn’t. I just sat in silence and took comfort in the arms that held me.

  Eventually, the tears slowed, and I realized just how much my head was aching. It was like a stampede of horses were loose and pounding the ground with their deafening rhythm.

  “I’m sorry, Colt. I didn’t mean to ruin your shirt,” I said in a muffled tone. My face was pressed into his shoulder, which was now stained with smeared remnants of mascara.

  He drew back and tilted my chin up, wiping the remaining tears away with his thumbs. My eyelids were so swollen that I could hardly open them. “How about you lie down for a while? You’re not looking so good. When was the last time you ate or drank anything?”

  “Yesterday,” I replied, as I closed my eyes. “My head is hurting something awful.”

  He released a deep sigh. “Wait here, while I make you something to eat and drink. I’ll bring some aspirin for your head, too.”

  After he rustled around in the kitchen for a time, he returned with a tray of sandwiches. I ate part of one, drank some water, and took the medicine. He gently pressed my shoulder down as I was now lying with my head across his lap. He started to run his fingers through my hair. It didn’t take long before I fell into a deep sleep.

  I woke in a panic. It was Monday morning, and the sun was up—we were going to be late for school. I tried to sit up, only to have his large hand gently push me back down. I looked up in desperation.

  “It’s okay,” he said quietly. “I’ve already called about today. The school knows what’s going on; Sheriff Taylor told them. Apparently, they’ve been trying to contact you. You can go back when you’re ready.”

  I knew that no matter how much time they gave me, I would never be ready. How could I?

  The weeks began to blur together, but not a moment passed without thoughts of my parents. I missed them desperately. Colt was a constant figure at my side. It had been over five weeks since my parents’ deaths, and he had been staying in the extra bedroom. It brought me comfort knowing that he was close, but I knew that he couldn’t stay in my house with me indefinitely. We had discussed it, and tonight was his last night staying over. I was going to have to be on my own. I had never met his parents, and he never mentioned them. We never went to his house; only mine. I didn’t even know if they cared that he’d been staying with me thi
s whole time. It seemed strange, but I hadn’t thought to ask.

  “Cheyenne, you know I don’t mind staying.” Colt’s blue eyes were soft and compassionate as he reached for my hand across the kitchen table. I was trying to complete some assignments for school. I had been given extra time due to the circumstances, but I really needed to make some effort.

  Quickly averting my eyes, I tried to focus once more before I lost my willpower. I drew my hand back. “I know, but it’s time. Besides, you hang off the bed in the spare room. I’m sure you’re looking forward to sleeping in your own bed.”

  He sighed. “It’s not that bad here.”

  I snorted. “Yes, it is. I’ve seen you.” I immediately cringed. I didn’t want him to know that I had been in his room while he slept. A couple of times I had awakened in the early morning hours after a bad dream and crept down the hall to see him. I just needed the comfort of knowing he was there.

  “You’ve seen me?” his voice raised an octave in surprise, but I could see the humor behind his pretend shock. I had just given him the ammunition to tease me. Turning away, I tried to figure out how to get out of this one. “So, how many times have you watched me sleep?” he asked.

  I tried to change the subject. “I have a project that’s due for my art class. I need a subject to draw. Do you mind posing for me?” I flipped the pages of the book in my lap.

  “I don’t know,” he pondered. “Will I be awake or sleeping?”

  “I want to do one outside and then one inside. The outside pose will be you sitting on a rock or something. The one inside will be more natural, relaxed. You can watch TV or read a book or something,” I said nervously.

  “I see. Maybe I’ll take a nap.” I looked up to see a devious grin spreading across his lips. Those lips…I shouldn’t be thinking about those lips. Ever since the day he kissed my cheek and hugged me before he left on his motorcycle, something had changed. The fact he was around even more wasn’t helping. Suddenly, I was starting to feel like I wanted more from our relationship. He was always there for me, and I didn’t want to live without him.