Heartland (True North #7) - Sarina Bowen Page 0,106

room is past the bathroom on the left. There’s still a sign on the door he made when he was a kid. NO SISTERS. I can’t believe it’s still there, and it makes me smile.

Holding my breath, I turn the doorknob.

It doesn’t move.

Okay, this is a setback I did not expect. I raise my knuckles and tap as lightly as possible.

Nothing. He’s sleeping. Of course he is.

But I’ve come this far, and I remember him telling me how easy it is to pop the lock. I fish my wallet out of my coat pocket, remove my ATM card, and slide it between the door and the frame.

The lock pops immediately, and the door swings open.

I step inside the room, where moonlight casts shadows across the bed. Dylan is sleeping curled up on his side, which is not like him. I take a step forward to peer a little more closely at him.

That’s when he rolls, leaps to his feet—arms outstretched for battle—and lets out a blood-curdling shout.

And I shriek like I’m starring in Night of the Living Dead.

Then several things happen very fast. First, I realize it’s not Dylan on that bed. It’s Rickie. I’d forgotten all about Rickie.

Second, the doorway behind us begins to fill with faces. So many faces. Daphne’s, followed by Ruth’s. And then Alec’s and May’s.

“What’s happening?” someone gasps. The lights flip on.

“Chastity?” Ruth says sleepily.

Rickie gapes at me. Then he drops back onto the bed and puts a hand over his chest. “Holy crap. Did you just pop the lock on the door?”

“I—” My heart is in my mouth, and it’s just dawning on me that this is going to be very embarrassing. “Where’s Dylan?”

Daphne laughs. “In the bunkhouse. Is he expecting you?”

“Uh…” My face begins to heat. “Not really. I just...” …have no explanation for why I’m here.

“So this is just a booty call gone wrong?” Alec asks. “When I snuck into May’s bedroom I was way quieter.”

“Don’t brag, sweetie,” May says. “We can’t all be born for mischief. Night, everyone.”

“Later,” Alec says. “The fifth stair from the bottom squeaks, by the way. For next time.”

“And honey, watch out for the bunkhouse stoop,” Mrs. Shipley adds. “It’s made of granite and always gets icy.”

“I…” I swallow hard. “Okay. Sorry.”

She yawns and walks away. Daphne also melts into the shadows of the upstairs hallway, snickering as she goes.

That leaves me alone with Rickie. “Hit the light switch?” he says.

I flip if off. He lays back down and sighs. “Took a year off my life there, Chass. I actually punched the last person who snuck up on me while I was sleeping.”

“I’m really sorry,” I whisper. “I had no idea you’d be in here.”

“S’okay,” he says, tucking his cheek against the pillow. “My heart rate should return to normal by New Year’s.”

“Goodnight,” I whisper. “Let me know how I can make it up to you.”

“Just don’t do that again.”

I retreat, closing the door. And then I hear Rickie get out of bed to lock it behind me.

For a moment I just stand there in the hallway, trying to catch my breath. Then I make my way downstairs again, avoiding the fifth step from the bottom.

I tiptoe into the kitchen, where Grandpa is standing in the moonlit window, drinking a glass of water. “I’m sorry if I disturbed you,” I whisper.

“Eh. You know what’s disturbing?” he asks. “Having to piss three times every night when you’re old. Enjoy being young, kid. Don’t waste it.”

That sounds like good advice. So I go back outside to find Dylan.

Thirty-Nine

Dylan

I sleep fitfully in the bunkhouse. My body is exhausted, but my brain can’t stop turning over all the things that happened tonight.

And I still haven’t caught up with Chastity.

As I turn over for the hundredth time, I could swear I hear the bunkhouse door open. My eyes flip open in the dark, and I listen to the quiet footfalls of someone approaching.

“Dylan?” comes a soft voice through the door.

“Yeah?” I croak. “Chastity?” The door opens, and in she comes. At two in the morning! I say the first thing that comes into my head. “Holy shit, how’d you get here? And how’d you find me?”

“I walked,” she says. “That was easy. But finding you was not.”

“Wait.” I sit up fast. “Did you knock on my bedroom door? Because Rickie is kinda jumpy—”

“Knocking would have been smart.” Chastity—still in her coat—perches on the edge of the bed. “But you once told me how to pop the lock. So I scared the heck