A/N:

Thank you for your reviews. I can't answer them all, but I do appreciate them.

Beta is Lindz26. Pre-reader is MichelleMMarie—the Gilligan to my Skipper.

CHAPTER THREE
*Miss Santa Clarita Valley*

When I awoke the next morning, I didn't feel as sad as when I'd gone to sleep. This was a new day, and I was going to make the most of it. I would talk to Masen and tell him my situation. Hopefully, he'd help me find my way.

Then again maybe I was being too optimistic. After all, this was the man who threw me out of his house mere hours after he found me passed out along a river. His kindness seemed to come with a price, and it all involved me getting the brunt of his anger and annoyance.

As I sat up in bed, I realized I hadn't showered in…well, I wasn't sure when I'd showered last, but I definitely hadn't yesterday. I went out of the bedroom to ask him if it would be okay to take one, but was faced with an empty house. No dogs; no Masen. Where had he gone?

Walking to the window, I couldn't detect his truck. He must've been gone for the morning…or was it afternoon? The sky was covered in dark gray clouds, threatening to unleash a downpour of rain. Hopefully, he wouldn't get stuck in the storm.

With a sigh, I decided to take the initiative and went back into the bedroom, then into the bathroom. I opened the shower door and switched on the warm water. There was a single bar of soap, which I gathered was his, but I certainly wasn't using that.

After shedding my clothes, I got in and exhaled slowly as the hot water ran over my hair and bare shoulders. It was like I was washing away everything from yesterday. With my eyes closed, I automatically reached for some shampoo, but groaned when I recalled that I hadn't seen any.

I could've stayed in here forever, but I was afraid Masen would come home and get volatile at not asking his permission, so I turned off the water, wrung my hair, and stepped out. It was then that I noticed there was no towel for me, only his, hanging up on a nearby rack. Using his towel would be weird, so I just grabbed my clothes—his clothes—and threw them back on.

Checking the living room again, he still wasn't back. My stomach was starting to fuss, and my eyes immediately darted to the kitchen. I pondered if he'd have anything for me to eat and was so tempted to raid his refrigerator and pantry, but thought against it. The shower was already enough of a reason for him to be his grumpy self; I didn't need to give him another.

So, I sat on the sofa, and I waited. And waited. And waited…

Finally, a good hour or so later, I could hear the chugging of his truck come to a stop outside. I looked over my shoulder at the door as it opened. Both dogs came pummeling into the house, Sadie coming directly to me. She hopped up on the sofa, and I giggled as she attempted to stand on her hind legs to lick my face. But as soon as I saw Masen hanging up his shotgun, my smile dropped.

The larger dog began barking loudly when he saw me on the couch.

"Easy, Tucker," Masen spoke to him, and paid me no mind as he walked past me to the kitchen, carrying a medium-sized cooler.

Almost instantly, Tucker walked to the unlit fireplace and lay down in front of it. Sadie crawled into my lap, so I scratched her head.

"I hope you don't mind, but I used your shower," I admitted.

There was no response from Masen, except the clanking of pots and slamming of cupboard doors. I looked at him to see he was lighting the stove. Did he even know I was here? This very attitude made me wonder why he saved me from Crowley yesterday. If he didn't have a care that I was here, then what did it matter if I was getting molested by a psycho with a fetish for bondage and killing?

With a huff, I turned forward again and decided to ignore him. Well, I could pretend he wasn't here, too. Except…I couldn't…because I knew he was here. It was as if I was aware of every single movement he made. I didn't like it. I wanted to shut him out.

After much more banging, clanking, and loads of other noises that I refused to investigate, it all stopped. His heavy footsteps echoed somewhere behind me, followed by something scraping along the wooden floor. Sadie and Tucker ditched me in a flash, running to where Masen was.

Not able to help myself, I casually peeked over my shoulder to see him digging into a plate of cooked fish with his fingers. There was another plate of the same meal set out across from him as well as a glass of water. Without looking up from his dish, he pushed the plate further to the edge and went back to his meal.

He wanted me to eat.

Okay…

I got up and took a seat at the table. He hadn't set out any forks or knives, since he seemed to enjoy eating with his fingers. I decided to do the same begrudgingly. The fish was good; although, I didn't know exactly what kind it was. To me, it was just a fish. Had he caught this or bought it from someplace?

I could feel the same little nudge on my leg that I felt yesterday, so I sneakily gave a piece of fish to Sadie. Could dogs eat fish? Oh well.

Masen was already done with his food, while I was only half way. Never the less, I was beginning to get full. I found it odd that he didn't want to know anything about me…not that I had much to say on the subject, but anyone would naturally be curious why I'd washed up from a river. He didn't even seem fazed in the least.

He got up from the table, taking his plate with him, and set it in the sink. After washing his hands for a brief second, he walked straight to the bedroom and disappeared inside. I gathered my plate and empty drinking glass, then took them to the sink, resting them on top of his dish.

As I washed my hands, I decided to just clean the dishes, as well. After all, there were only three. Once I dried them with a cloth, I attempted to put them away, but had a tough time locating their proper resting place. Finally, I found it—a cupboard next to the fridge that had more plates and cups.

"Let's go," I heard behind me.

I spun around to see Masen leaning against his bedroom doorway, staring intensely at me. It made me feel self-conscious. He turned his head away and moved toward the front door.

Before I could ask where we were going, he was out of the house. There was a crash of thunder, and I nearly jumped about two feet high. In a rush, I followed after him.

Light drizzle fell to the ground outside as I got into his truck, but once I shut the door, the rain gradually picked up. He turned on the engine, headlights, windshield wipers, and then pulled away from the cabin.

I was unsure where he was taking me, but I decided not to ask. I didn't think he'd answer, anyway, since he enjoyed ignoring me.

After some time, the large boulder came up…taunting me. That Crowley guy should be arrested. He didn't actually do anything to me, but from what he implied, there had been someone else he'd done the same thing to. I wished there was something I could do, but as it was, I could barely figure out what to do for myself. Hopefully, he got what he deserved.

When the road came up, Masen stopped the car as we waited for a large semi-truck to pass. There was another directly behind that one. And another. My goodness, how many trucks were going to pass? After the fourth, he finally pulled onto the road.

Coming up ahead, I could see a small, lit up sign that said Redwood Tavern. Behind it was a one-story structure that had blackened windows, making it hard to tell if anyone was actually inside, but based on the amount of trucks and cars here, I'd say that wasn't an issue.

Masen slowed the truck and made a left into the dirt parking lot surrounding the place. As we pulled into a space, two large men walked by my window, laughing obnoxiously, and went inside. The sounds of more laughter and talking streamed out to us.

What is this, some sort of bar? Why'd he take me here?

The engine switched off, and Masen reached into his front pocket. He removed four quarters and held his palm out to me. I eyed it warily. Seemingly aggravated, he grabbed my arm, opened my tightly closed fist, and dropped the quarters into it, then snatched his hand back.

"There's a payphone in there. Make your call," he spoke gruffly, and started the engine again.

I blinked at him several times before I made a move. The rain had picked up even more, and as I stepped out, I became drenched. I watched as his truck slowly reversed out of the space, the headlights blinding me, and drove back onto the road, vanishing out of sight.

So, that was it? He was just going to leave me here after everything that had happened?

Cold, wet, and beginning to shiver, I headed to the entrance door. As soon as I opened it, warmth enveloped me…as well as the scent of stale smoke and alcohol.

The dimly lit place was swarming with drunk, rowdy men. There were several booths and tables set up that were occupied by these men, and at the back was a long bar counter with wooden stools. A red neon sign hung above the bar, displaying the word Budweiser. In a separate room adjacent the bar was a solitary pool table with a few burly men crowded around it.

I swallowed thickly, not feeling comfortable here by myself. I could feel the heat from the quarters in my palm and remembered what Masen said. A payphone was right next to the door, so I went to it, picked up the handle, and pushed my quarters into the coin slot.

Who am I calling?

What was the use of a phone if I didn't know who I needed to talk to? I tried to rack my brain for any sort of familiar number combination, but nothing came to mind, except a few essential digits that anyone would know.

My finger pressed down on the numbers, and I waited patiently as it rang, trying to avoid looking over my shoulder at the many eyes that I could feel staring at my back.

An automated service came on, causing me to frown. A robotic voice asked me what city and state I was in. I didn't know the answer to that, so I stayed silent. It told me to repeat it. I couldn't; I didn't know! It clearly got annoyed with me, because it said I was being transferred to an actual person. Thank God.

"City and state, please?" a real woman asked.

My nostrils flared angrily. If I didn't know the answer before, then how was I going to know it now?

"I don't know," I replied, more than a little annoyed, but then sighed. Maybe she could help me. "I'm somewhere where there are a lot of trees...and..." Try to be more specific! "They're, um…really big."

"Excuse me?" the woman asked dryly.

I pinched my eyebrows together. "I'm not exactly sure where I am. Do you know?"

I could hear her mumble something, and then the line went dead.

"No, no! Wait!" I exclaimed frantically, but it was no use.

After slamming the phone on the hook, my coins came back out. I tried to grab them all at the same time, but one tumbled to the ground, rolling across the floor. It slowed to a stop a couple feet away and rattled against the floorboards.

I bent down to get it, but before I could pick it up, a black, muddy boot stepped on it. My wide eyes roamed up the expanse of a long leg, elongated torso, and stopped at the sight of a middle aged man's face. He had a thick, black beard and wore a baseball cap. There was a bottle of Budweiser in his hand, an amused smirk on his face.

"I'll give you a lot more than a quarter if you come with me," he propositioned, and chuckled.

I was frozen, still squatted on the ground and unsure how to react. But I didn't get a chance to reply, because he glanced somewhere above my head, furrowed his brow, and then walked away casually to the pool table area.

I quickly grabbed the quarter and stood. Curious what deterred the large man, I looked over my shoulder. I blinked rapidly when I saw Masen standing in the entrance way, staring at me with a raised eyebrow.

"Did you make your call?" he questioned.

"Uh…" I fumbled, "yes, but I—"

"Good," he interrupted, and stalked off to the bar, leaving me up at the front. He took a seat at a stool.

What was I supposed to do now? I'd called 4-1-1, but they hadn't been any help. Defeated, I followed Masen's tracks and went to the bar. There were several stools available, including one right next to him, but I sat three away. He didn't acknowledge my presence in the least, so it wasn't like it mattered.

I set the quarters on the counter, tracing my finger around one of them. Out of my peripheral, I saw a figure move past me behind the bar counter. I looked up and saw a young woman with long, caramel colored, wavy hair. She was dressed in a white tank top and low riding denim jeans, baring her midriff. Ignoring me completely, she opted to go to Masen, setting down a mug of beer in front of him.

Masen took out a wallet from his back pocket and removed a five dollar bill, then slid it across the counter to her. Instead of taking it, she leaned against the counter, saying something to him that I couldn't hear over the volume of the patrons' voices. I furrowed my brow, staring at her flirty smile. She was very pretty…something that I was sure the rest of the guys in here were aware of, since they were all gawking at her.

I looked away, feeling like I shouldn't watch. My eyebrows shot up when I saw a petite woman standing directly in front of me, behind the bar, assessing me closely as she dried a beer mug with a dishrag. She had black hair that came down to her shoulders and seemed to be in her mid-thirties.

"That's Carmen," she spoke, nudging her head to the other woman, who was now taking the five dollar bill Masen had set out.

The lady in front of me had a slight southern twang. She didn't sound like the people I'd interacted with so far…which wasn't very many…but it was easy to tell she wasn't exactly from around here.

"Miss Santa Clarita Valley," she scoffed quietly to me as this Carmen woman passed by both of us and stopped at the cash register. "She made sure to write that on her resume, too. Look at her, thinkin' she's all Erin Brokovich."

"Who?" I asked meekly.

Her eyes went back to me along with an arched eyebrow. She clicked the roof of her mouth with her tongue. "You know, with the cleavage on purpose kind of thing," she replied, as if I should know. "Lord knows, I'd fire her if she didn't bring in so many customers every weekend." She shook her head and then set down the rag and mug. "I haven't seen you 'round here before. Who are you?"

"Umm…," I replied nervously, uncertain of how to answer.

"You came in here with Masen, didn't you?" she asked curiously, but didn't wait for a reply as her eyes turned to saucers. "Oh my…are you…?" Her voice trailed, and she leaned across the counter to me. "Are you one of those call girls on the cheap? I see a few every now and again with some of them truckers here, and—"

"I'm not a call girl," I interrupted, incredibly offended.

She chuckled lightly and stood straight. "Sugar, I beg your pardon. It's just, you come in here, dressed in men's sweats, and looking like someone roughed you up good. I figured you're the real deal, ya know?"

My hands immediately went to my head, patting down my hair. I hadn't brushed it and had no idea what I looked like. Great…no wonder she thought I was a hooker.

"So, how do you know him?" she questioned, placing the mug under the counter.

"Uh…well…I don't exactly know," I replied honestly. Something about this woman made me feel comfortable enough to speak truthfully.

She merely laughed. "You don't know? Well, it ain't my place, anyway, so don't mind me. In such a small town, I stick my nose in everythin'. But it is pretty tellin' that you're sittin' a whole three stools away from him." She smiled briefly and then flittered off.

She'd said this was a small town. I wanted ask what small town this was, but out of the corner of my eye, I saw Masen finishing off the last of his beer and standing up. Without so much as a glance in my direction, he walked across the room and through the exit door.

I sighed to myself, knowing that the reason he'd wanted me to place a call was so someone could come get me, but there was no one. Not one person in the world. Not that I was aware of, anyway. I supposed I was on my own now. I didn't seem to mind, though, because something inside told me I would be okay alone and that I was strong enough to figure this all out by myself.

So, I stood up from my stool and made my way to the exit. When I pushed open the door, the crisp night wafted over me. I could see my own breath, it was that cold.

"Only if you take me for a ride," a woman said somewhere to the side of me.

I looked in the direction and saw Masen leaning against the front of his truck, while that bartender, Carmen, stood in front of him, holding his truck's keys. Once the door clicked shut behind me, Masen's expressionless eyes found mine briefly, before looking back at Carmen and saying something in a hushed whisper.

I would've said goodbye to him, but I knew he didn't like me, and frankly, I didn't very much like him, so I ignored both of them and stepped out into the parking lot, heading to the dark road.

As I walked along the shoulder of the asphalt, my steps were illuminated by the moonlight above. I was clueless as to where I was headed. Maybe I'd hit the next town soon. This couldn't be the only town along the road. On the way, someone might recognize me, or I'd recognize something, anything, and get my memory back. I didn't know if any of that was possible, but all I had was the road ahead of me.

A bright, white light flooded around me, and I looked over my shoulder to see two, blinding headlights. I turned my head forward again, continuing to place one foot in front of the other. I could hear the sound of tires slow, and a familiar dark green truck appeared, driving to a crawl alongside of me.

Both the truck and I stopped moving. I looked through the window to see Masen staring right at me. I was staring right back. He suddenly leaned toward the passenger door and opened it.

He wanted me to get in? But I thought he wanted me to leave.

I looked down the road with a frown. I could've kept walking and come across a town. I would've been fine. However, I still chose to get into the truck.

He made a U-turn and went in the same direction we'd come from earlier. Where was he taking me now? My eyes drifted to him, unable to stop myself from stealing a glance. He kept his sight straight, ignoring me once again. He sure hadn't been ignoring Carmen.

Why was it that we kept coming back together, no matter what?

"No one's picking you up," he said. It was an assessment.

I chose not to reply, since he already knew the answer. We drove through the blackened forest in silence, the trees whipping past, and soon came back upon the familiar cabin.

A/N:

Take a wild guess who the nice southern lady is.

Now that Tucker has been officially introduced, I can show you a visual of him and Sadie. Pictures are on my profile. Also, a Washed Up forum was made by Salix caprea over at Twilighted. The link to it can be found on my profile. I'll most likely start posting teasers there.