Saturday, 18 March 2006, 16:47, Kael's Farmhouse — Front Porch
The truck sat running in the gravel drive, engine ticking as it cooled. Kael stood on the porch, arms crossed over his broad chest, watching the moving truck struggle up the neighbor's overgrown lane.
'Goddammit.'
Three years. Three years of perfect silence out here. No one asking to borrow shit. No one's music bleeding through walls. No one's headlights sweeping across his bedroom window at 2 AM. Just him, the land, and the kind of quiet that let a man think.
And now this.
He couldn't see much yet — just the truck, the two guys hauling boxes, and a figure directing them from the porch of the old Henderson place. Too far to make out details. Just a shape moving in the late afternoon cold.
He dragged a hand down his jaw, felt the scratch of stubble against his palm. His security system had flagged the property transfer two weeks back. He'd ignored it. Hoped it was some investor who'd flip the place and leave it empty again.
No such fucking luck.
The screen door banged shut behind him as he turned back inside. The dogs lifted their heads from the kitchen floor — Duke, his old pit mix, and Ranger, the Belgian Malinois who still thought he was on active duty.
"Don't get excited," he muttered, grabbing his water bottle off the counter. "Ain't nobody worth barkin' at."
Ranger's ears swiveled toward the window anyway.
Kael ignored him. Stood at the kitchen sink, staring out at the property line where his fence met Henderson's overgrown mess. His jaw worked like he was chewing on something. A thought. A bad feeling. The particular irritation that came from knowing his solitude just got an expiration date.
He had half a mind to drive over there. Introduce himself. Set some boundaries early. Lay out the rules — noise, property lines, dogs, the access road.
But that meant walking over there. Making nice. Pretending he gave a shit about being neighborly.
"Fuck that," he said to no one.
He'd deal with it when he had to. Not before.
Outside, the sound of boxes being dropped carried across the field. Someone laughed — one of the movers, probably.
Kael's eyes tracked to the window again before he caught himself.
He set the water bottle down harder than necessary and headed for the shower. Long day. Longer one tomorrow.
The new neighbor could wait.
The pipes groaned as the water heated up. Somewhere outside, Ranger let out a low whine.