by Jamie Magee
After a second Nolan said, “Whatever that’s between them is nothing. I think Murdock’s just her way out of the house and she takes it.”
“She tell you that?”
Half shrug. “She never talks about him or home, and is quick to change the subject if I bring it up. But I do know I haven’t seen her outside of school without her daddy unless it’s with Murdock.”
Declan glanced over his shoulder, catching Justice’s gaze once more. He held her stare for a second longer than he wanted to. He was trying to read her eyes. He’d always felt like even though hardly any words passed between them that they spoke constantly.
He could tell you where he’d pass her everyday in the hall and which way he should glance when he walked to his truck as others made their way to lunch. In those eyes of hers she could convey every emotion, even flirt, without expression.
He had no idea how she did it, how when she locked their gaze she opened up this secret moment they had, a moment that helped shape their every day, but he loved it.
He saw sadness in her gaze then. He wasn’t sure what kind, though, only that lately, with each day the emotion deepened in her.
“You need to make sure she’s all right,” Declan said.
“Me?”
“Yeah, y’all are tight.” Declan drew his brow together. “What did Murdock say to you? Why did you hit him?”
“I don’t even really know. She was crying and he was telling her to be quiet. I asked if she was all right and the fucker pointed at me and said, ‘you assholes can’t leave town fast enough.’ So I hit em.”
“She never told you what it was about?”
He pursed his lips and shook his head, like he hadn’t thought to ask which was typical. Unless it was in his way, in his face, it was not an issue Nolan cared to give any emotion to that would weigh him down.
Right as Nolan glanced over his shoulder at Justice to question if he should’ve asked, Declan caught yet another fast ball thrown in their direction. This one he had to reach a bit for—and he grasped it two inches before it would’ve slammed into Nolan’s head.
Declan’s hand was on fire, telling him that ball would have delivered some serious damage to his brother.
Tobias dropped his phone and barely caught both Boon and Nolan as they strapped a ‘let’s do this shit’ expression across their face and charged forward.
Boon hollered every swear word he could think of at the field, and before anyone could do anything else the Sheriff flicked the lights on his cruiser then moved his ride to block the Rawlings’ boys.
“Don’t you boys know it’s sacrilegious to disturb a baseball game with a brawl?”
Asshole, Declan thought.
“You acting like you didn’t see that?” Tobias asked with a lift of his chin, not showing any strain as he held Boon back with his grasp and Nolan with a hard glance. Declan stayed back a few feet, knowing if he came any closer to that old, fat, sweaty fucker he’d lose every ounce of his calm.
He knew that man had turned his head a million times over when Justice’s dad had had one too many; he’d acted like he never saw the bruises. He didn’t deserve his badge as far as Declan was concerned, and he sure as hell could not be trusted.
“I saw it, this wind’s a bitch, might as well call the game,” he said, with a slow smile as the ump did just that.
Tobias narrowed his stare. “Those players are lucky to have you looking out for them, bet you make ‘em feel safe.”
The Sheriff’s grin was slick. He’d read right through Tobias’s seemingly innocent comment that basically said his son needed him to fight his battles. An insult, no matter what family you came from. Around there you were as strong as your youth.
The Sheriff glanced to the field, to the retreating players then to the boys. “The lot of you need to learn to pick your fights, and when.” He nodded at Declan. “Finish up and get on home, the storm’s coming.”
Tobias turned Boon and Nolan back toward the flower beds. The Sheriff watched from his cruiser for a good while, long enough for the teams and the crowd to leave the field before he pulled away.
“Come on now. Dad wants us at the bar, like five minutes ago,” Tobias said.
Declan was covered in mulch, head to toe, ringing with sweat—he wasn’t about to be the foul smelling SOB in the bar’s cellar; there was no telling how long they’d be down there or who would be there with them.
“I’ll clean up and be there,” he said, knowing he could at least rinse off in the locker room, and he was sure he had a shirt in his truck.
Nolan reached in his pocket, pulled out his keys, and tossed them to Declan. “You’ll need these.”
“Right—tires,” he said as he realized one of his brothers had to have jacked his truck sometime that day to put his graduation gift on.
“My hurricane survival kit bag is on the front seat. I have some clothes in there too, if you want ‘em.” He hooked his thumb toward Tobias. “I’ll hitch a ride with them.”
Tobias glanced at the dugout that lead underground to the boy’s locker room. “You don’t need to be out numbered. We best wait on you anyhow.”
“Fuck ‘em,” Declan said with a stiff nod to Tobias, clearly stating he wasn’t worried about Murdock, of all people, and was insulted Tobias thought he needed his back.
Tobias went to argue but Nolan spoke up, “Hurry your ass up, then. Might as well have some fun while you can.”
A lazy grin spread across Declan’s lips. After the day he’d had, being stuck in a shelter stocked to the brim with beer and liquor with family and friends was exactly what he needed. “Right behind you,” he said as he started to jog toward Nolan’s truck.
Two
Instead of just rinsing the dirt off Declan took a long, hot shower. He was sore from the brutal workout Tobias had put him through long before the sun ever rose. Six days, and you’re out. Six days, Declan thought to himself each time his mind tried to pull him back into the high school slash small town drama.
Tobias had said the sooner he got his head in the corps the better, no strings, no bullshit, which is exactly what Declan was aimed to do. Nolan was his only constant hang up on the matter. This was going to be the first time either of them had not been hip-to-hip. Worrying about Nolan’s ass while going through this major life shift was not easy.
To make matters worse, for the first thirteen weeks, no one but Declan would even know Nolan was loose in the world, or the direction in which he’d gone.
“Hold up, Murdock. I’m riding with you!” some ass yelled through the locker room.
Just the sound of his name busted Declan’s thought bubble and brought him right back ‘round to the drama that had happened before.
The idea that Murdock had caused even one tear to fall from Justice’s blue eyes was enough to tighten every muscle the hot shower was loosening.
Declan waited until he didn’t hear any booming voices echoing in the locker room before he killed the water. He didn’t care for the conversation any stragglers would want. Without the water running, it was eerily quiet, but he could have sworn he heard wind far away.
When he unzipped Nolan’s ‘storm survival’ bag he shook his head and did his best not to grin. There were clothes inside, a few bottles of water, a flashlight or two, but there was also beer, a few loose long necks, a box of condoms, and three bags of beef jerky. Right as he pulled on his shirt, his phone vibrated. The text was from Nolan.
You left?
’Bout to.
You’re screwed and tattooed now. Dad said stay there storms r popping up—ones not far from u.
Fuck, Declan thought as a flustered sigh left him.
After loading Nolan’s bag with his dirty clothes, he slung it over his shoulder and edged toward the front part of the underground locker room. You could get to it from the gym, or the fields. The gym was locked; he’d already checked when he thought to get his hat out of his locker. Through the dugout was the only way. The other field exi
ts were locked up for the season.
He looked down every aisle then went in the next locker room. Not a soul was left but him.
He glanced to his phone as it went off again.
Just drive my truck into the dugout real quick like.
Right.
For real though, take cover. It’s going to be a long night. Nolan texted.
Right.
You get wigged just text, fuck a storm I’ll always have your back, bro.
Declan shook his head, doing his best to stifle a grin.
Six days.
Just to see how bad it was Declan walked toward the dugouts. He felt the wind long before he approached it, and he could see the mix of the setting sun and a gray wall of clouds merging, beautiful and downright threatening.
Within the wind he heard an odd vibration. He glanced to his phone, knowing it wasn’t coming from it then he took a few steps back wondering what the wind was moving. Behind the dugouts there were hallways, ones where extra gear was stored. Sitting on the floor, with an open book and headphones in her ears was Justice Rose. Looking blameless as ever.
Declan’s lips parted slightly in mere shock. He glanced out at the storm clouds in the distance, then her. Not good, he thought as his fist clenched. Her and him alone in the past had done nothing but jack with his head, which was exactly what Tobias and been trying to get right for months.
Justice’s phone was against the wall vibrating, a sound she couldn’t hear over her headphones. Either that or she was ignoring it on purpose. He knew if his dad had told him to stay put it was no joke. Chasen Rawlings did not coddle his boys, which meant Declan getting Justice all the way out to her place was not safe.
She was trapped in a cage with a lion; only she didn’t know it yet.
Justice’s legs were stretched out before her, tan and long, a dark blue summer dress that had little red roses all over highlighted the tint of her lips, especially the bottom lip that she was biting at the moment.
She did that when she read, he’d noticed. She also twirled the very tips of her dark, blonde locks that were forever braided, usually pulled over her shoulder. It was a loose braid, relaxed, relaxed enough that Declan found himself staring at the innocent curls that would cling to her neck, a neck that begged to be kissed, as he breathed her sweet scent in.
Declan clenched his jaw, furious at himself. Only this girl made him think this way. Others? He proudly wore his ‘hit it and quit it’ badge—no strings. He was too young and had too hard of a road before him for ties like her. In the past he’d driven himself mad about her when they lived in the same town. If she was his and he was away—yeah, not good.
Then why are you thinking about it? his thoughts scorned.
He quickly reminded himself that girls could wake up one day and decide they’d rather not be where they are and hit the road—he’d be damned if he would live with that fear. Hell no, he’d never be as broken as his father was years back. This notion of his had successfully made sure no one girl had ever uttered the words, “I’m Declan Rawlings’ girl.”
All at once she looked up. Her gaze slowly dipped over him as a full body blush spread across her ivory skin. Justice gave him a sweet smile as she reached to pull her headphones out, her phone had long since stopped ringing.
“Hi,” she said shyly.
This is bad, he thought to himself. The same one word had landed them in a world of trouble in the past.
He nodded at her book. “Is this your thing? Whip out a novel when hurricanes whistle by?” Talk about taking apathy to the extreme...
She reddened even more then glanced down and looked up at him from under her long lashes. “Just waiting on my ride.”
Declan lifted a brow as a pissed smirk emerged on his lips. He knew she was waiting on Murdock, had to be, and that ass was long gone. “I’m the last one out.”
She knew he was. But since he didn’t seem to understand that she was waiting on him, that her being there was going to cost her in the long run, she feigned a languid surprised expression.
***
Justice always had to build herself up for a one on one with Declan Rawlings; at least she had to since the pair of them hit puberty. Before then he was the best tree climber she’d ever met, he wasn’t too bad at fishing either. He taught her how to shoot his BB gun, how to use a pocketknife. He even taught her how to play football, like a boss.
Yet, these days, the thought of him alone made her heart race and her gut twist. When she was close to him, when she felt his dominant vibe and heard his clipped words and found his blue-gray eyes drowned in emotion that didn’t fit the total package of him, he made it hard for her to think much less breathe.
Without her mental build up she would be crimson and mute in his presence. The ex-tomboy slash shy girl he still saw her as.
She knew all the Rawlings’ boys vanished after graduation, everyone did. But ever since she overheard Nolan and Declan talking one morning about how Tobias was getting Declan ready for his date, it became real to her.
She understood the boy she knew would be gone for good. Even if he made it back to Bradyville—which he swore he would not do when he was a kid—he’d never be the same. There would be more edge and more emotion in his stare. He would have seen and done things that Justice could never imagine. And surely some things that would make her blush at the thought of them.
Before she could offer him one of her well-practiced excuses she had been chanting since she watched him go into the locker room her phone rang again. She had been ignoring it for at least a half hour. Before today, she had been looking for any excuse to have second alone with Declan, to at least tell him she’d be thinking about him, and she’d...miss him.
She figured when she saw Murdock leave, more than likely thinking she had left with his dad, getting Declan to take her home was not only the best opportunity she had, but more than likely her last.
It was still a risk. Even if she timed it all right, Declan could have told her no, and even if he did say yes...she’d have to deal with her father if he was home and saw her pull up with him.
Brent Rose hated the Rawlings’ clan; he blamed them for her mother leaving. Justice heard the story weekly. One of how her mother was a lazy whore looking for an easy ride, how she left him to wallow in poverty.
Justice knew the truth, though. She knew her mother left because she was abused. Not only could she remember the fear and the yelling when she was little, but her grandmother had told her the real story—the one about the messy divorce and the even nastier custody battle, which ended with her mother’s parents and her father having joint custody. Justice had also spoken to her mother.
Her mother did leave with a buddy of the Rawlings’, but he only took her back to the state he was stationed in, to a women’s shelter. Her mother tried to get Justice out, too, but her father’s lawyers were impossible, claiming abandonment among other things. The joint custody between her grandparents and father was a compromise, one that her well-known minster grandfather was able to make happen. Even with the custody agreement Justice never really saw her mother. She had a new life now, a new husband, more children, and Justice was a reminder of a past she’d escaped.
After Justice’s grandfather died and her father decided to move in and take over his affairs Justice asked for help from her mom—help the woman said she could not give. She wasn’t coming back and Justice and her grandmother would not leave Bradyville, their home.
For the most part, Justice knew how to dodge most of her father’s blows and when to vanish so the idea didn’t cross his mind. Any time he had a bottle in his hand, he’d forget Justice was Justice. He’d see her mother and the aggression would flow.
Justice also knew how to smile and act like all was well. Even her grandfather had told her family business was just that, ‘no need to be broadcasting demons who find their doom one way or another.’
Under it all, she was keeping score. One day she’d find a way to get her dad out of h
er grandmother’s house. And then she’d get her grandfather’s church back and her father out of her life.
If there was one virtue Justice owned it was patience.
Doing her best not to tremble with reasonable fear Justice reached to answer her phone.
“Hi, Daddy.” She listened. “Really? He’s there? I was waiting—” Silence. “Well, I don’t know why he couldn’t find me.” Silence. “Really, that bad?” She listened to how she was irresponsible, how she knew there was a storm coming, and if she knew Murdock had left she should have called him. Now she was stuck. There was more to it, a lot of curse words, which were a bit slurred telling her he’d already decided to take the edge off. And a comment or two about her being as useless as her mother.
In the background she heard Murdock taking the blame, and like always, like with any authority figure, Murdock managed to calm her father down.
“I have a book and I’m underground,” she answered when her father asked her what she was going to do. Silence. “I know, yes. It’s not locked. I can get in. Yes, I’m sure,” she said as her gaze slowly moved up Declan, realizing the ride that she wasn’t sure how she was going to get through without sounding and looking like a fool had just turned into more time. A lot more. She also knew if her father figured out she was trapped here with Declan Rawlings, the price was going to be more than she bargained to pay.
She crammed the uneasy feeling down that was ripping her gut into a thousand shreds. What was done was done, and she’d deal with it like she always had. Everything is temporary; it was a lesson her grandfather preached over her, one her grandmother would still repeat when the pair of them found themselves backed into yet another corner.
“Okay, okay,” she said, as Murdock spoke to her now, telling her to break into his locker. He thought he had food in his bag, but he knew he had a charger, and he told her to make sure her phone was charging until the power went out, that way she could use it as a flashlight.
