A/N:

Many of you got the state right! You Googling cheaters. ;-)

Beta is Lindz26. Pre-reader is MichelleMMarie—the silly rabbit to my bowl of Trix.

CHAPTER FIVE
*The Biggest Asshole in the World*

I sat at the table, trying to calm myself over the reaction I had just a moment ago before I came back inside the cabin. Masen was working on lighting a fire, not paying attention to me. I hadn't told him how frazzled I was. I didn't think he'd care, anyway.

I felt sick to my stomach. Why had attempting to go to the river caused me to react so badly? I had wanted to see the river, but as soon as I'd taken the steps toward it, my body worked against me and my mind panicked.

The daisy I had picked earlier was still in my hand. I clutched onto it tightly, almost snapping it in half. My grip loosened instantly. As I plucked the remaining petals, my eyes veered to Masen bent over at the fireplace.

It bothered me that he thought I was lying about not remembering.

It bothered me that Alice believed me in a heartbeat over the man that had saved me from a fate I didn't want to think about.

It bothered me that he was repulsed by the very sight of me.

"You still don't believe that I can't remember anything, don't you?" I found myself asking him, though I already knew the answer.

He didn't reply as he continued stoking the fireplace with a long, iron poker.

I sighed and set the daisy on table absentmindedly. Talking to him was like talking to a brick wall, so I got up and went to the bedroom to take a nap, since there was nothing else to do. But just as I was about to lie down over the covers, a loud groan stopped me.

"AH! NO, NO, NO!" I heard Masen shout from the living room. "Come back out here right now!"

My eyes went wide, wondering what he wanted from me. I was still sitting on the bed when he stomped into the bedroom like thunder rolling through clouds.

"You. I'm talking to you," he snapped, and disappeared back outside the door.

Suppressing a tired moan, I followed after him. He stood at the table, glowering down at it. When I closed the door behind me, his eyes shot up to mine.

"See this?" he queried, pointing at the daisy petals that littered the table. "I don't want this crap on my table. Do you understand?" He swept the petals into his palm and approached me. "Take this pile of shit and throw it outside." He shoved them into my hands, not bothering to be careful as some fluttered to the floorboards.

My temper flared on the spot. They were just flower petals for goodness sake! I would've cleaned them up later, anyway. But of course, everything was his way or the highway.

Incensed, I stalked to the door, yanked it open, and threw the petals into the air. They didn't go very far, falling delicately to the ground right in front of the doorway.

"There. They're outside," I notified haughtily, and turned to him. "Satisfied?"

He walked out the back door abruptly. There was a lot of racket outside before he came back into the house with a long broom. His steps stopped right in front of me, and he held out the broom for me to take.

"Sweep them off the porch," he demanded.

I folded my arms in defiance. "I'm not your maid," I shot back. I wasn't sure how I always managed to stand up to him. If anyone else was in my place, they'd surely be intimidated by this angry, closed off recluse.

He let out a very loud, almost animalistic growl and dropped the broom to the floor.

I narrowed my eyes. "You don't scare me," I stated boldly. He could huff and puff all he wanted. None of it fazed me.

"I could give two rats' ass," he replied in a menacing tone.

Neither of us could break eye contact. It was like a battle for dominance. A battle that I didn't think I could win, but I sure as hell wouldn't let that stop me from going down swinging.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Am I invading your space, touching your precious things, leaving harmless flower petals on your table?" I asked sarcastically. "You know, if you think I'm lying about not remembering anything, then why do you let me stay here?"

Instead of a response, he merely clenched his jaw.

"Answer me," I commanded.

"You're here, because, if you haven't noticed, you're a walking magnet for danger," he replied.

I scoffed. "I can take care of myself."

He snorted, actually looking amused for once. It was short-lived, though.

I remembered something. Proof. "I have a bump on my head where I hit it," I said, and parted my hair over the tender spot on my crown. I angled my head to him so he could look. "Do you see? There's a bump there. I think it's the reason why I don't know my name, age, or anything about myself."

When I looked up at him, his brow was furrowed, and his eyes were slanted in suspicion. He didn't believe me at all, and he probably never would.

"You think I'm just staying here for kicks?" I questioned petulantly. "You think I'd willingly stay here with you—the biggest asshole in the world? If I remembered anything about my life, I'd make sure I was as far away from you as I could possibly get. If you don't believe the bump on my head, believe that." I quickly spun around and rushed into the bedroom, needing to get away from him. It was hard enough to have amnesia, but to have someone doubt you about it was even worse.

I dropped onto the bed, my thoughts screaming how much I hated that man. Maybe I should just leave and pray I didn't get into anymore trouble. We butted heads too much, and it wasn't healthy. He didn't like me, and I certainly didn't like him, so it would probably be for the best. However, for now, I'd sleep and make a decision once I had enough strength.

X-X-X-X

A knock on the door woke me up sometime later. I rubbed my groggy eyes and yawned. It was dark out, most likely just after dusk.

Another knock sounded, followed by footsteps walking away. Masen. What did he want now?

When I pulled open the door, my sight immediately went to where he was—sitting at the kitchen table with two plates of food. As per usual, Sadie and Tucker were seated right by his chair.

I didn't utter a word as I took a seat in the chair that had become mine. For some reason, Masen seemed to be waiting for me to start eating, so I tucked into a bowl of beef stew, which I assumed was from one of those cans in his pantry. I guess a guy could live his entire life on canned food if he really wanted to.

"How far back can you remember?" he asked, his voice cutting through the thick silence.

I slowly looked up at him, taken aback. Did he…did he actually believe me? Instead of questioning this sudden change, I decided to go with it. "I can remember clearly as far back as the first morning I woke up here, but I can only recall bits and pieces of when I actually washed up."

He looked down at his stew. "Like what?"

"Like being wet and cold," I answered.

After eating silently for a few seconds, he set his spoon down and regarded me. "Anything else?"

I racked my brain. "There was something odd on my face."

A wrinkle formed on his brow, and he picked up his spoon and started eating again. "That was Sadie. She found you before I did." He let out a sigh. "Look, I don't want anything to change, alright? I just wanna go about my life, as always. Just because you can't remember things, doesn't mean I'm gonna change my routine for you."

I cocked my head to side, getting a good look at him. Basically, he was saying he wanted to live a quiet life, and I was interrupting that. "I never asked you to."

He raised an eyebrow. "And tone down that lip."

"What?" I inquired, confused.

"You're argumentative."

"I'm argumentative?" I questioned, outraged. "You're the one—!"

"See?" he interrupted casually, and dug into his stew again.

I groaned out of frustration. I couldn't believe he thought I was picking fights when he was the one giving me the ammunition. "You don't even see how you are, do you?"

He finished the last of his stew and dropped the spoon into the bowl with a loud clatter. His hard eyes found mine. "You're in my house, so what I say goes; otherwise, feel free to walk. It's as simple as that." He stood and went to the sink. After he washed his bowl, he disappeared into the bedroom.

And there it was—the you're a guest in this house card. I didn't like it.

As I finished washing the dishes and setting them in their appropriate spots, Masen came back out, dressed in his pajamas and holding his usual pillow. He set it on the couch then stoked the fire to keep it alive.

Even though his temper made me want to scream, he was providing me with food and a place to sleep, which was more than generous, to be honest. Maybe we could learn to live with each other, for however long that meant.

With a deep breath, I walked to the broom still lying on the ground and picked it up. As I pulled open the front door and began sweeping the flower petals off the porch, I could feel his eyes on me, causing a slight shiver up my spine.

Once I was done, I went back in. Our gazes locked, a stark difference from the angry, domineering standoff we usually would have. This was a mere acknowledgement of my acquiescence.

He broke the connection first, setting the stoker back in place and positioning the pillow right against the arm of the couch.

I'd try my best not to react to him in a negative way, but I wasn't going to be the only one bending around here. After all, it takes two to tango.

X-X-X-X

Four days passed, making it Thursday. We managed to stay out of each other's way, considering he was gone a lot. He'd leave sometime before I woke up, and I generally wouldn't see him, the dogs, or his shotgun until around the late afternoon.

As soon as I'd awoken, I'd try as hard as I could to remember something about my life, but nothing would come. It made me wonder more and more what my life was like and who was in it, but something kept telling me I'd remember again, so I just needed to wait it out.

I'd spent a lot of time outside, since there was nothing to do inside. The weather was growing warmer, so my dresses were really coming in handy. It was so peaceful and nice here, and I could definitely see the appeal of living somewhere like this.

Yesterday, the gunshots sounded, making it the second time this week that Masen hunted. I watched him in secret, shooting at geese. He was so concentrated on the task, and it almost seemed like it relaxed him. The entire act made me cringe, knowing these birds were dying, but I realized it was a sport to many people, him included. I just wondered what he did with the poor birds after they were shot.

Many questions about him began to come to mind—where he was from, why he was here, if he worked. I knew I couldn't ask him any of my questions, though. He was about as responsive as a tree stump.

Today was one of those rainy days that seemed to happen regularly here. The weather didn't stop Masen from going out, and that meant I was here alone, sitting by the fire, which he'd been decent enough to light. I'd stayed here long enough now to know how to keep the fire going.

I knew Masen had said not to touch his things, but watching the bright orange flames for hours wasn't exactly exciting, in my opinion. That was how I found myself snooping around his bedroom. The shoebox in the closet was still calling to me, so I retrieved a chair from the kitchen and used it to reach the box. When I opened it, I was surprised at what I saw.

Money. Lots of it.

It was all bundled together in a silver money clip. There was so much here. Hundreds of dollars, maybe more, just sitting in a shoebox. Why did he have this much money hidden, and where did he get it from?

I feared Masen would come back and catch me, and something like that would happen, because my luck seemed to be non-existent, so I pushed the box back in its place and returned the chair to the living room.

Back in the bedroom, I'd always noticed the nightstand before I slept, but never tried to open the drawer. So, as I opened it in curiosity, my brow furrowed. All that was in there was a digital watch and a book about the Vietnam War.

I picked the book up and read the summary on the back. It wasn't my cup of tea—though I didn't exactly know what my cup of tea was—but it was something to pass the time with. However, I couldn't just take it and start reading, especially with the ground rules Masen had set up, so I'd have to think of a way to get him to give it to me.

When I went to put it in the drawer again, something caught my eye at the very back—a golden band. I blinked several times.

It was a wedding band. His wedding band.

Then it was true? Masen had been married once and had an affair…with Carmen?

My legs gave out, and I sat on the edge of the bed, staring at it. I hadn't wanted to believe Alice when she told me that, but now, it was hard not to. I'd admit that Masen had his negative points, but I never thought he'd ever do something like that. It made me angry, and I felt hurt…as if I'd been the one betrayed.

I could hear Sadie barking outside, which meant Masen was back, so I quickly shut the drawer, telling myself his affair was none of my business, and went into the living room.

Just like every day, Sadie ran straight for me so I could pet her, Masen hung up his shotgun, and Tucker growled viciously at me. I was starting to think that dog hated me.

"Do you have anything I can read?" I asked bluntly.

"Nope," he answered, and walked by me to the kitchen.

Nope? Well, what a little liar.

"You don't maybe have a book or something?" I prodded. There's a book right in the nightstand drawer. Just give it to me.

He pulled open the pantry door. "Nope."

Unbelievable.

Not wanting to scream at him, I exited the cabin through the front door. My feet carried me several feet before I stopped and let out an angry puff of air. I ripped up a daisy from the ground, needing to expel my frustration.

Is Masen a filthy liar?

I pulled the petals, until the last one remained.

No.

The daisy told me no.

With a groan, I threw the remains of the flower to the ground, uprooted another, and made my way back to the cabin. When I entered the house again, I froze. Masen lay on the couch…reading a book.

The same book from the drawer.

The nerve of him! He told me he didn't have anything to read and now was reading a book right in front of me!

"You said you didn't have anything to read," I said, trying my damndest to keep my voice sounding calm.

He flipped a page.

I squared my eyes, beyond annoyed with him, and took a seat at the table. Violent acts were taken out on the daisy as I pulled the petals and snapped the stem in half.

"What did I say about that stuff in here?" he asked threateningly.

I didn't look at him, nor did I reply. God only knew what I'd say if I opened my mouth.

I heard him shift on the couch. "Did you hear me?" he questioned, his voice raised.

"No," I replied, finally glowering into his seething green eyes. "See, I can't hear you over the flipping of pages."

He went back to reading. "There goes that mouth of yours again," he murmured.

I slammed a fist down on the table. "All I asked you for was something to read. You said you didn't have a book, and now you're reading the book you said you didn't have."

He flipped another page. "So?" he asked casually.

I let out a frustrated sigh and looked down at the mess I made. A smirk began to cross my lips as I thought of a way to mess with him. I ripped the flower petals in halves, then quarters, and spread them over the expanse of the small table, knowing it would aggravate him. And it definitely was, 'cause I could feel his eyes observing me.

"Take that stuff outside," he demanded through clenched teeth.

My smirk grew, giving my motives away, but I didn't care. I wanted to anger him even more and knew just how. "I've been thinking," I began. "It's pretty awkward you can't call me by my name, since I can't remember it. I figured I'd make one up. From now on, you can call me Petal."

His eyebrows slowly pinched together. "I'm not calling you that," he shot back.

I shrugged. "Well, sorry, but that's my name."

"If you don't take that shit outside…," he warned.

"I don't obey orders of those that don't use my name—which is Petal."

He hated it. His reaction was just what I wanted. Maybe now he'd see how frustrating he was.

"If you just say, 'Petal, throw the flower petals outside,' I might do it," I informed, a hint of mirth in my tone.

He brought his book back up to his face angrily, choosing to disregard anything I'd said. It sort of upset me that he didn't want to call me Petal, because it sure beat him calling me mouth or you, but at least now I knew how to press his buttons, since he certainly knew how to press mine.

A/N:

I deem you Petal of Redwood. Better get used to the name. No Bella around here. Short update, I know, but I like shorter chapters these days. Regardless, there's some important info in this chapter that you can ponder.

I made a map of Redwood—the portion where Masen lives—to showcase some key locations. FYI, the small town of Redwood is fictional, as is the Wye River. However, Redwood City is real. The map is on my profile. Don't make fun of my map making skills.