There wasn't anything here he cared about her seeing. Most of it was trash, if he was asked, and all of it would be donated wholesale - from the pictures, their frames, down to the bedding and knickknacks. Everything that made this place feel even slightly the way it did now. Like a home, yes. But a home haunted for Raylan, not matter how peaceful the nights.

The smell of coffee wafted through the house, helping draw Athena back into the hopefully now familiar kitchen and its chintzy, old yellowed wallpaper. He was staring out a window at the barren fields and turned around with a grin.

"Maxwell house. Folgers is expensive." Not that he couldn't afford it but he kept his money by not spending it. "We got half and half and milk, unless you want it black," he said, waving a cup in her direction. His eyes glanced over the box in her hands but for now, he didn't say anything.