“Okay. Chill for a sec.” She raised a hand to halt me. “No one’s holding you hostage. Check out the e-reader when you have a chance. Trust me. Daveigh can get it back to me later.”
“Look, the last thing I need is for you to ram a cruise down my throat like a giant dick. A cruise where one of the tag lines is probably “don’t come a knockin’ if the boat’s a rockin’”.”
“What are you talking about?” she asked. “I didn’t try to shove anything—”
“Just please tell Daveigh I’m sorry. All of this was a bad idea.” I walked away, tightening my jacket around me, before Lucy had a chance to reply.
* * *
I replayed the evening on the walk home, constantly rewinding and hitting the play button over and over in my mind. Things could’ve gone so differently, but I was still unsure of the exact catalyst that propelled the night into a downward spiral. The temperature had dipped dramatically and the wind kicked up when I turned onto Poplar. Miniature droplets of icy water fell from the sky, pelting my face. It felt like the world was against me. Every damn component. Even the weather tried to run me out of town. I tucked my hands up inside the cuffs of my jacket sleeves to stop the numbness from taking over my fingertips.
Lucy’s babbling. Zack’s steely gaze. Daveigh’s weird behavior. My mother’s bitchiness. All of them were minor because nothing sounded more loudly than the silent hatred that blazed behind Adam Rockwell’s eyes. A whiff of beer caught me off guard, a pungent reminder of the evening, bringing everything round robin once again.
I approached the gravel driveway when a series of gunshots blasted in the distance. My heart pounded as adrenaline filled me, the cold quickly forgotten. It took a moment for me to gain my bearings and slow to a stop. Like clockwork, I remembered I was in Steele Falls and not Sacramento as I began to calm down. It was second nature as I turned in the direction it was coming from. “Just like old times.” I wondered what the hell Ralph shot this time.
When I walked around back, the honeyed light of the standing lamp still shone through the window. I pulled the key from under the mat and slipped it into the lock, jiggling it twice to the left and then three times to the right. It was like having a security system and key in one.
For as safe as I should’ve felt, I didn’t. Vulnerability took hold. Standing in the open doorway, I was terrified of what waited within. It wasn’t anything tangible I feared. People. Objects. Animals. That all would’ve made too much sense. What I was scared of could only hurt me if I let it. The worst part was not knowing if I had enough strength to keep myself from breaking down until I was back in California.
I jumped when I heard a second round of gunfire from Ralph’s direction. Nope. Still didn’t feel fully at ease. An old man hanging out in the trees with his trusty .45 didn’t seal the deal on refuge for me. “Jeez. How long before someone calls the cops?” Maybe they’d become immune to Ralph and didn’t bat an eye, much like how no one paid attention to the slow pace of the run-down city.
Naked, swaying tree branches cast murky shadows through the darkened kitchen window from the moonlight, giving the surroundings an eerie, yellow glow. I tried to pay little attention to the imaginary monsters lurking in the corners and in my mind, but it was difficult to reign in my irrational thoughts. The ambience. The lighting. The smells. It all took me back to another time. “Focus,” I whispered. “It’s been two fucking years since you left. Get over it, Blue.”
I was convinced a shower was the best dose of medicine to warm me up, rinse the beer off, and to also wash away the events of the evening. The last one was a longshot; I had a feeling it’d still linger if I bathed in battery acid.
Before I resigned to allow myself a moment of attempted peace, I stood in each area of the house. Like it was some form of penance. And trust me, I didn’t want to do it. Being only a 535-square foot space, it shouldn’t have taken long. Yet, the task at hand felt insurmountable. I tiptoed through each room and held my breath for as long as possible, fingering over the surfaces of countertops, cushions, and tables. Even the texturing on the walls didn’t go unscathed. For the millionth time, I wondered if I should turn around and leave. Every bit of the Meyer’s property felt more like a bully than any school-aged child ever could.
Another gust of wind howled outside. The windows rattled and the lights flickered, temporarily leaving me blind for a few seconds before the room came into view again. Knowing the layout like the back of my hand wasn’t enough to help console me either. When the power threatened to go out for a second time, I panicked. The thought of being in the dark got more of a reaction out of me than Ralph’s target practice. It was also enough to stop me from reminiscing.
Hurriedly, I went through the motions of unpacking my suitcase with shaking hands. It was a race—me against myself. The longer I was awake, the more time I had to think. The more time I had to think, the longer I was awake. It was a vicious cycle. I grabbed my bag of toiletries and headed for the bathroom, turning the shower handle as hot as I could tolerate. Plumes of steam filled the room as I peeled off my beer-soaked clothes. The stream of water poured over me until it ran cold, and I’d unrealistically hoped it’d give me a brief escape from reality. I was left disappointed.
After I brushed my teeth and towel-dried my hair, I climbed into the full-sized bed, the abrasive sheets cold against my shivering body. Not a damn thing in Steele Falls had given me peace since I’d arrived. Maybe I’d hoped for too much. I scrunched my eyes shut, hoping to fall asleep quickly, but I had a feeling it’d be another long night of tossing and turning mixed with bad dreams. Counting flock after flock of sheep even proved to be useless. Visions of Adam Rockwell trumped everything else in my mind. His glare was heightened by an unspoken pain unlike any other I’d ever encountered, and it was etched into my memory as much as I fought to shove it away.
* * *
The next day, I woke up to the sound of a pair of Canadian Geese honking near the tree outside my window. Those damn birds were useless, nothing more than a nuisance. They shit everywhere and rushed off other birds. Every winter, I’d hoped they’d fly south, but the temperature was never frigid long enough for them to leave. One of those assholes even chased me down the beach when I was a kid. I peeked through the blinds and saw a male with outstretched wings, flapping in the middle of the grass.
“Seriously?” I looked at the clock on the nightstand. At least it was the seven o’clock hour instead of an ungodly four-thirty. “I can’t wake up on time for work, but as soon as I’m jobless, bitch geese act as my new alarm.”
I couldn’t figure out why I felt sick to my stomach, and then everything replayed in my head from the night before. Dreams. Cold sweats. Racing heart. It felt as if I’d done nothing but run in my sleep. This time, Cash Jensen was absent. A new lead had taken his place—Adam Rockwell.
“What do I have to do to get some rest?” I smashed the pillow over my face and groaned while kicking my feet into the lumpy mattress. Staring upward at the gap between the windowsill and the half-open blinds, the sky was a deep shade of dreary ashen gray, and heavy rain relentlessly pounded against the panes. Droplets fell down the glass like falling tears. It was typical Washington weather. Depressing.
Eventually, I coaxed myself out of the warm bed and made myself a cup of tea in the small kitchen nook. Examining the box with a sniff, the expiration date was flagged for eight months prior. It still smelled fine. I zoned out and dunked the bag far longer than I was willing to admit. There was no doubt in my mind I procrastinated. Standing still with my hands wrapped around a warm mug only dragged the time out until I had to face my mother again. She was an early riser, always awake before the sun came up. I remembered joking she was a vampire and never slept. If I believed in pretend creatures, I’d have taken more stock in the idea. Plus, it’d have made perfect sense with her cold heart.
I took a sip and scrunched my nose
at the flavorless drink. “That’s gross. I guess tea leaves do go bad.” I dumped the full cup of liquid down the drain and rinsed out the mug, no longer in the mood for what soothing elements expired chamomile had to offer. “Might as well get this over with.”
The little lightbulb flickered over my head again from the night before. I froze in front of the sink. There was still one task to handle before I faced Elana. I pulled my half-charged phone from my tote bag and found a phone number in my contacts list. My thumb hovered over the send button while a little nagging voice in the back of my head told me the answer would be a resounding “no”. Out of fear, I cleared the digits from the screen three times before I got ballsy enough to hit the send key.
One ring.
Two rings.
Three rings.
“Brennan Construction,” a deep voice said. “This is Tyler.”
“Hey. I mean hi.” I paused. “Uncle Ty, it’s Blue.”
The silence was lengthy before he replied, his voice softening around the edges. “Blue? Is that really you?”
“Last time I checked.” I fiddled with a small sliver of wood that broke free from the door frame.
“How are you doing?” he asked.
Even though he was my birth father’s brother, Ty Brennan cared about me. Or he was a great actor. We both knew I was doled out a shit-head for a dad in Shane Brennan. That was beyond my control. And Tyler was the polar opposite of Shane. The best thing was Ty never forced me to talk about any of the past. The even greater thing about my uncle was I wouldn’t be reprimanded for leaving, there’d be no massive number of questions on what happened two years ago, I wouldn’t be shot any disapproving looks for what I’d done, and there’d be no string of phone calls wondering where the hell I’d been. It was a simple question about how I was doing in that particular moment—present tense. No mention of Tom. No mention of Elana. No mention of Shane. No mention of where the hell I’d hid.
“I’m…good. I mean, okay, considering the circumstances, trying to remain semi-respectful of the fact I was in Steele Falls for my step-father’s funeral,” I said. “Listen, I don’t want to occupy much of your time, but I wanted to know if I could set up a meeting with you while I’m in town.”
“Hang on. Let me grab my planner and check my schedule. Business or personal reasons?” he asked. The sound of papers rifling and crinkling was audible through the speaker.
“Business,” I replied. “Definitely business.” Talking about anything personal sounded about as great as walking across hot coals. Barefoot. Slowly. With an elephant on my shoulders.
I heard a long, slow breath on the phone. “My schedule is pretty full today. Nuts for a Sunday, I know.”
The resounding “no” I’d anticipated was mere seconds away. I deflated and opened my mouth to thank him for his time anyway, but he’d beat me to speaking.
“Wait. I have one opening tomorrow morning. A contractor canceled late last night. Does nine work for you? My office?”
“Nine is perfect,” I replied.
“Great. Tell the receptionist who you are. I’ll let her know you’re coming.” He paused. “Oh, and Blue?”
“Yeah?” I forced my feet into my Chucks without bothering to untie the laces first.
“I hope you’re really doing okay. With everything.”
“Thanks,” I replied quickly. “See you tomorrow.”
I ended the call before either of us had a chance to elongate the conversation any further. A smile curled at my lips at my success. It was the first one in a while. Proud of myself for following through, I put my cell phone away.
Standing near the screen door, I stared out at the yard. It was then or never. As much as I wanted to opt for never, it wasn’t realistic. Time to rip off the bandage. I put on my jacket and flipped up the hood, dodging massive puddles that lined the walkway between the mother-in-law house and the kitchen of the main house.
I paused on the middle of the walkway, the pitter-patter of raindrops pelting the synthetic layer of my jacket. From the corner of my eye, I saw Daveigh through the window. She crossed from the living room into the kitchen with purpose. The pane of glass didn’t detract from her level of anger. Her mouth was turned downward as she stomped by, slamming every overhead cupboard in the kitchen as she rifled through dishes, pots, and pans.
Our relationship was already rocky, but I had a feeling I’d damaged it tenfold by ditching her at the bar last night. A simple apology wasn’t going to cut it.
More than ever, I didn’t want to go inside. Both Elana and Daveigh Meyers were on the warpath. That was a force to be reckoned with. Reluctantly, I put on my big girl pants once again and placed one foot in front of the other. By the time I got inside, I found Daveigh drinking coffee at the dining room table. Both of her hands were tightly wrapped around the mug. Either she didn’t notice my presence or she didn’t care. The oversized coffee cup remained perched at eye level as she peered over the top of it, staring directly at the blank wall. Wisps of steam floated upward, but it didn’t faze her.
“Hey,” I said.
Daveigh was silent and didn’t look at me.
I walked over to where she sat. “Sorry ‘bout last night.”
“Whatever, Blue.” She stood up and took her half-full cup to the sink, rinsing it out before putting it in the dishwasher. “By the way, you owe me for the beer.”
“Did you ‘whatever’ me? What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked.
She smirked. “History has a funny way of repeating itself, don’t you think?”
“I’ll say it again.” My blood pressure rose. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You ghosted me.” She pointed toward the front door. “Ran out just like you did two years ago. Without a trace. I figured you’d be gone to wherever the hell you’ve been for the past two years by the time I got home last night. Shocked to see you this morning, to be honest.”
“What happened at the bar had nothing to do with—”
“Bullshit.” Daveigh gritted her teeth. “Daddy’s gone. Try thinking about someone else than yourself for a change. Huh?” She walked toward the front door and slammed it on her way out, repeating the same hostile action with the screen door.
I’m not sure what triggered it. Events at the bar? Events with Cash? Events that brought me back to Steele Falls? Whatever it was, it was the wrong moment to screw with me.
I followed her outside to the porch, stomping my feet like a petulant child. “Look, I’ve had enough going on in my life right now.”
“You’ve had enough going on, Blue? You have no idea.” Tears spilled down her face. “No damn idea at all.”
I began counting on my fingers. “Let’s see. I got fired yesterday from Jensen & Jensen. Me. Fired. Wanna know why?”
My sister crossed her arms and looked out at the ocean.
“Because I’d been fucking my boss. That’s why. My condescending, narcissistic, asshole of a boss. To boot, it was against company policy. Price Jensen himself, president extraordinaire, about shoved the company handbook up my ass when he showed me the door. Wanna know why?”
She looked at me with a blank expression. “Why he shoved the handbook up your ass?”
“No. Why I was sleeping with Cash.” My shoulders slumped at her inability to keep up with the conversation. “The longer I’m away from California, the more I don’t even know why I did it. Him. The sex sucked. The conversation was terrible. I couldn’t stand being around him, but there I was, like a dog being thrown a stick, running back to it over and over again.
“Then, I come here because my step-father dies. My sister asks me a million questions before I even have a chance to take my coat off, my mother couldn’t give any less of a shit about me, and then you and I go out for a drink. Sounds good, right? But then I meet your sex therapist
friend, Lucy, who tries to be my BFF when my sister vanishes. Wanna know why? Oh, wait! It’s me who wants to know why you kept disappearing.
“And did I mention Lucy tried to ram her giant dick of a cruise line down my throat too? After that, I turn down her attempt to hook me up with Zachary “Eligible Bachelor” Main, I spill beer on Adam “Douche-Canoe” Rockwell. I tried to apologize, and—”
“Wait,” Daveigh held up her hands. “Stop right there. You spilled beer on Adam Rockwell?”
“Yeah. So?”
“Okay, Blue. I know I’m pissed as hell at you right now about more reasons than I can count, but I want you to steer clear of that guy. You hear me?”
“I’m pretty sure he hates me. You don’t have to worry about him coming anywhere near your big sister.”
“I’m serious. A while back, I was down at The Fill & Spill late one night, celebrating one of my breakups with Gene. I was supposed to meet Lucy, but I was running late and told her I’d just meet her there.”
I opened my mouth to cut her off, but she shot me a glare.
“No Gene jokes. It’s my turn to talk. Later that night, I was outside having a smoke and I saw that Adam guy hit Daddy.”
“Like with his car?”
“No, with his fists.” She held up both of her hands and balled them up.
I furrowed my brow. “I don’t understand.”
“No clue why he started wailing on him. I saw it happen from across the parking lot. Adam pulled in, got out, and slammed his truck door. He looked pissed off about something, but when doesn’t that dude look hostile? When he headed inside, Daddy bumped into him on the way out, and Adam went ape shit crazy. It was nuts. Arms were swinging. Legs were kicking. They slammed into Daddy’s truck so hard. The glass busted out of the passenger side window when Daddy’s head smashed into it. And the blood. Jeez, there was so much of it. Adam got this wild look behind his eyes, I’m not sure if it was rage or pain or what, but I could still see it from far away. He punched Daddy square in the nose three times, shaking him by the lapels on his jacket. Limp like a fucking rag doll. I’d be surprised if Adam didn’t bust the bones in his hand.”
Blue Page 11
