The Four Stages of Loving Dutch Owen - Debra Kayn Page 0,52

before it got dark.

The walk was therapeutic and gave her time to slow down and clear her mind.

Besides, the longer she put off going back to the house, the better.

Finding a routine was hard when she was set in a rut. But she was trying to be around others on her time off. She just had to push herself to go somewhere else but the pool hall.

For now, she found comfort in being around the bikers and in a place where she worked. She could hide how lonely she'd become.

She'd thought Moses Lake would make her feel like she belonged, but it wasn't any different than Bellevue. Any connection she had here had disappeared after finding out her mom had died when she was thirteen years old.

She entered the field, taking out her phone, and quickly texted Alyssa that she was going home. A promise she'd given Alyssa weeks ago in case anything happened to her—though she felt safe in Moses Lake.

Alyssa texted her back, and she smiled. It felt good to know someone cared, and she promised to call Alyssa as soon as she set foot inside the house.

The weeds tickled her legs. She veered to the left, toward the crossroad, knowing if she continued walking straight and ran across the highway, she'd slog through two inches of mud and muck.

Her phone beeped. She looked at the screen. Rich was calling her again.

She ignored the call and let it go to voicemail. While it was nice to catch up with him, she wasn't interested in him traveling to see her and take her out to dinner.

Rich would never be more than an old friend. She had no interest in getting involved with another biker.

Everyone she grew up with was only a reminder of her past. She needed to keep moving forward.

Plus, she was scared that Rich would bring up Dutch. There would always be questions.

She argued with herself often that coming here, living in the house, secluding herself at home, working at the pool hall, she'd surrounded herself with a life that involved him.

That she never wanted to forget him.

Maybe it was true. Maybe everything she'd achieved had set her up for a disappointing and lonely life.

Maybe she wanted to pretend that everything that surrounded her reinforced her feelings. That Dutch was the only man for her.

She hadn't worked out the answers to all her questions yet. Maybe someday, she would.

Hurrying out of the field, she jumped the ditch and walked onto the road. Looking both ways for traffic, she crossed the highway and headed down the last stretch to home.

To others, walking home alone at seven-thirty at night while the setting sun warmed her back wouldn't be an achievement. To her, it was a sign of taking care of herself. Something she couldn't manage to do when she was ten years old and scared to death Dutch was going to leave her, but at twenty-one years old, she was killing it.

She retrieved the key out of her pocket at the front door and slid it in the doorknob. Lifting her foot to kick the bottom of the door, she stopped when the wood gave way, smoothly swinging open on its own.

She looked behind her, suddenly nervous.

The door had always given her problems. It was even worse after having been vacant for so long.

Her pulse accelerated. Had someone fixed her door?

Without any thought, she walked into the house. "Dutch?"

She hurried through the kitchen. "Are you here?"

She searched the living room. Not finding him, she changed direction and rushed into the bedroom.

"Du...?" She slammed to a stop.

He wasn't here. She went back through the house to shut the front door. For a minute, she thought he'd returned to her.

She pressed her hand to her chest. The alcohol had gone to her head, or she was losing it.

Dragging herself to the couch, she sank down where the cushion indented and curled her legs underneath her.

She couldn't keep living each day waiting for him to return.

Dutch was gone from her life. Wishing him back wouldn't make him show up.

Lifting her phone, she pushed the contact number for Alyssa.

Her friend answered on the first ring. "You're home?"

"Yeah."

"What's wrong?"

Just like that, Alyssa knew she wasn't okay. She was falling apart.

"You know the front door of the house? The way it always sticks?" She leaned against the arm of the couch, not waiting for Alyssa to answer. "It doesn't stick anymore. That's weird, right? I mean, I unlocked the door, and it opened on its