Credence

by Penelope Douglas

  I draw in a deep breath, suddenly aware of the ache in my chest again.

  I look down and see Kaleb’s arm is shot out in front of me, keeping me from diving head first through the wind-shield. There was no seatbelt for me in the middle.

  I look over at him as he scowls at the car disappearing down the road.

  Without sparing me a glance, he drops his arm and goes back to looking at his phone.

  Hm.

  Noah takes off again, but I steal glances at Kaleb every few seconds. So he does know I exist.

  We head through town, turning into Ferg’s Freeze on the left and pulling into the drive-through.

  A woman’s voice comes over the speaker, and I check out the menu quickly.

  “Cheeseburger,” I tell him as he hangs out the window.

  “Okay, seven cheeseburgers,” he calls out.

  Seven?

  Noah turns back to me. “You want bacon on yours?”

  I nod.

  “All with bacon,” he tells the cashier. “Three—no, four—large fries.”

  “I don’t need fries,” I reply.

  “I’ll eat yours,” he tells me. “And four milkshakes—two vanilla, one strawberry, and…”

  He looks at me over his shoulder.

  “Strawberry, too,” I answer.

  “Make that two strawberry and also add a Coke.”

  She tells him his total, and I sit back in the seat as we pull up behind another car, waiting our turn.

  Glancing over at Kaleb, I see he’s still scrolling, and I look down to see what has so much of his attention.

  I smile.

  “I’ve been there,” I tell him, gesturing to the images on his screen. “It’s this whole hotel in Oregon that’s a treehouse. I love the lights in the trees—it’s pretty. Kind of magical.”

  He looks over at me, staring silently.

  He’s probably mad that I got nosy. I’ve made his breakfast every morning this week—which he scarfs down—but for some reason, I’m barely on his radar unless he wants to…eat.

  “Have you ever been outside of Colorado?” I broach.

  But of course, he doesn’t answer.

  We pull forward, and I hear a chirpy voice.

  “Hi, Kaleb,” someone says.

  A pretty girl with a shoulder-length shaggy cut and bangs peers at us through the window, her blue-and-white-striped uniform shirt adorned with a name tag that says Marnie.

  Kaleb doesn’t acknowledge her as Noah pays her. She opens the windows again to give him his change.

  “You know the offer still stands,” she says, looking at Kaleb as she hands Noah the bags of food. “Sure you don’t want to tuck me away up on the peak with the rest of the necessities you need for winter? I could keep you warm.”

  I can tell she’s only teasing, trying to play.

  But Noah laughs, taking the milkshakes and passing them to me, which I hold on my lap. “Yeah, only if he puts you back into the pantry the twenty-three hours of the day he’s not using you.”

  “Noah!” I burst out, my eyes wide.

  But the chick is way ahead of me. She flings her hand into the Coke sitting at the window, its contents spilling all over Noah before the windows swing closed again, leaving him in the dust.

  Splashes land on me, soaking into the seat, and I gasp at the ice and cold as Noah growls.

  “Seriously!” he whines, flinging soda off his hands. “What the hell?”

  I laugh, barely noticing Kaleb lifting me up and moving me over, out of the mess.

  “You deserved that,” I tell Noah, but I’m still laughing.

  He groans, pulling napkins out of the bag to dry himself. “I was just joking.”

  “Well, I like her,” I tease.

  A horn honks behind us, and Noah scowls as he pulls off, probably pissed he didn’t get that Coke now.

  Kaleb wipes my arm down with a napkin, and I stop laughing, realizing I’m sitting in his lap. I look down on the red seat, seeing a dark pool of Coke where I was sitting.

  He throws the wet napkin down and picks up another, pressing it to my thigh to soak up the mess on my jeans. My breath catches, and I put my hand on his to stop him.

  “I’m…”

  He looks up at me, and the last time he was this close was when he had me on the hood of the car.

  “I’m…I’m okay,” I assure him, sopping up my jeans.

  He removes his hand, letting me do it as he circles my waist like a seatbelt and goes back to playing on his phone, holding it with both hands around me.

  “I can sit back down.”

  I try to move off him, but he stops me, not taking his eyes off his phone as he pats the seat to remind me it’s wet.

  Continuing to scroll, he keeps his arms firmly in place, and my pulse races.

  And as we drive home, all I’m aware of is him. Noah’s not in the car. There’s no music. Despite the breeze, the truck is hot inside.

  At some point I look over at him, and he raises his eyes, holding mine again.

  And I know then that I was wrong. I’m on his radar.

  “No!” I bellow, twisting my legs away before he can get a proper hold.

  But I’m not fast enough. Jake grabs my ankles as I grapple for the rip in the mat to hang onto and try to kick free of him.

  He yanks me down, and I scream in the garage, breaking out in a laugh I can’t hold back.

  It’s been almost two days since our episode in the kitchen. We’ve worked, cooked, jarred some fruit, stocked the pantry with supplies for winter, and bottled up some water, since I’m told the pipes often freeze.

  They’ve forced me to watch the entire first season of their karate show, and I made some new popsicle treats I found on Pinterest for the horses and chickens that Noah made fun of me for, but the animals loved. I watched them for a solid hour picking at the frozen corn. It was so cute.

  “Come on,” Jake barks, gripping me hard. “You should’ve caught onto this by now.”

  “It’s been two days! Gimme a break.”

  I stop trying to kick and shoot up, swinging both of my fists right for his face. He rears back, but I clip his nose.

  He releases me, and I scramble to my feet, facing him with a ready stance.

  He holds his nose, his eyes watering. “Ouch,” he grunts.

  Yesterday, he decided I needed a little more raising than the boys, since I’d found myself up at the lake alone with Terrance several days ago, and wanted to teach me some self-defense. Kaleb is off hunting, and Noah’s watching TV.

  Jake sniffles and shakes it off, putting up his hands to go again.

  “Why not just give me a gun?” I ask. “Isn’t that the mountain-man answer for everything?”

  “Sure, once you put down your avocado toast.”

  I laugh, shoving him in the chest. “I don’t eat that.”

  I feel his chuckle as he whips me around and locks me in a hold.

  “What are you going to do?” he taunts, tightening his arms around me as I squirm. “Come on. What do you do?”

  He only hesitates a moment before he releases me and digs his fingers into my stomach, tickling me. I curl up, trying not to laugh as both of us fall to the mat, my back crashing on top of his chest.

  “No, no, no…” I hug myself against his onslaught, squirming and wiggling as I chuckle. “Stop!”

  He finally does, placing his hands on my waist as I drop my head back to his chest and we both try to catch our breaths.

  “Pretty sure you’ll all just need to chaperone me everywhere, because this is useless,” I tell him.

  His chest shakes with a silent laugh, and within a moment everything is quiet as I lie there.

  My body starts to warm, and my smile falls as I feel him under me, aware of every ridge of his muscles. Every bulge of his… body.

  I turn my head, looking at him, and I see the embarrassment in his eyes, because he knows I feel it.

  I made him hard.

  My skin tingles un
der his fingers, and as he caresses my hips with just the barest touch, my eyelids flutter.

  His eyebrows pinch together. “What is this?” he murmurs.

  And I feel his fingers slip under the string of my panties.

  He follows the fabric over my hip where it sticks out of my jeans all the way to the back where there’s almost nothing.

  He knows what kind of panties I’m wearing, and his breathing turns labored.

  “I got some in town today,” I tell him.

  I like how they feel. How they look. The girls at school were wearing sexy underwear years ago already.

  But he looks at me like he’s scared of me, and I rub my nose, seeing his Adam’s apple move up and down.

  I didn’t mean to unnerve him. It’s not about sex. I just like feeling different and buying something Tiernan de Haas would never buy.

  This is what comes with raising a teenage girl, Jake. He’ll see them in the laundry at some point.

  “Tiernan?” Noah calls. “Your phone is ringing!”

  I draw in a breath and slide off Jake, hearing him clear his throat as we both pull up to our feet.

  Running into the house, I grab my phone off the island, seeing Mirai’s name light up on the screen.

  I answer it. “Hey.”

  “Tiernan,” she bursts out, sounding relieved to reach me. How long had the phone been ringing? “So good to hear your voice,” she says. “I haven’t heard from you. I was anxious to see how you’re doing.”

  Jake steps into the kitchen, closing the door and catches my eyes as he walks for the fridge.

  My pulse still races. “I’m good,” I tell her.

  “You like it there? Everything is…fine?”

  “Yeah.” I linger around the island as Jake cracks open a beer. “They keep me busy. Lots of sun and fresh air.”

  “That’s good.” Her voice is gentle. Sweet. Had it always sounded like that? “As long as they’re kind to you.”

  “Yes,” I say, knowing Jake is listening. “They’re kind to me.”

  I meet his gaze, smiling as he rolls his eyes and smirks.

  “Listen, I didn’t want to bother you,” she tells me, “but your parents’ funeral will be the day after tomorrow.”

  I blink, looking away from my uncle. The funeral. Guilt overtakes me. I hadn’t thought about it in days.

  I actually hadn’t thought about my own parents’ funeral.

  “I’m really sorry about the rush,” Mirai continues. “With certain attendees, we were pressured to work around their schedules.”

  I nod. “Of course.”

  I feel Jake watching me.

  “You don’t have to come,” she informs me. “Everyone will understand.”

  My stomach sinks at the thought of getting on a plane. The idea of leaving here—going there… It’s the last thing I want to do.

  But I don’t hesitate.

  “Get me a flight, okay? Tonight is fine.”

  “Are you sure?”

  Jake sets his bottle on the counter, planting both hands as he stares at me.

  “Yes,” I tell her. “Talk soon.”

  “Okay,” she says. “Give me an hour.”

  I hang up, and Noah must’ve heard, because he’s walking over as soon as I set the phone down.

  “You’re leaving?” he asks.

  But I look at my uncle. “My parents’ funeral is the day after tomorrow,” I tell him. “She’ll try to get me a flight tonight. I hate to ask, but can you give me a ride to the airport?”

  “You sure you want to go?” He narrows his eyes. “You don’t have to do anything. You can stay. Or I could come with you.”

  “You can’t,” I say. “The McDougall customization is behind. I’ll be okay. It’s fine.”

  He pauses, the wheels in his head turning.

  After a moment, he walks to the wall and grabs a set of keys.

  He pushes them over the counter to me. “Take one of the trucks,” he says. “Park it at the airport, so it’s there when you come back.”

  I stare at the keys.

  There’ll be things to deal with at home. The house, the accounts, Mirai, the condolences, obligations they had with charities and fundraisers and…

  “You’re not coming back,” Jake finally says when I don’t take the keys.

  I open my mouth but nothing comes out. My throat fills with a softball-sized lump that hurts so much. I don’t want to leave, but I don’t…

  “I don’t know what’s going to happen. For sure.” I finally look up at him. “There’s a lot to deal with there. I can’t say how long I’ll be.”

  He stares at me, and Noah has nothing to say for the first time since I’ve been here.

  Jake sighs and picks up the keys, shoving his beer over to Noah before walking off without another look in my direction. “Let me know when you’re ready to leave.”

  Tiernan

  It’s not raining.

  I thought that was how it was supposed to be during a funeral.

  Like in the movies. It always rains.

  The shadows of the trees glide over the windows of the black limo as we ride through Glendale, on our way to the cemetery. I lean against the door, Mirai sitting across from me as the procession carries my parents to the chapel first, our car following.

  Of course, it’s a beautiful day. The sun never failed to shine on my mother.

  But then I roll my eyes behind my large, black glasses, letting out a quiet sigh. Yeah, I should totally say that in my eulogy. I’ll have the whole congregation rolling with laughter at all the cheese.

  Jesus.

  I stare out the window, rubbing my gloved hands together, but still, nothing comes to mind. Not in the thirty-six hours since I’ve been back in California. I can’t think of anything to say that doesn’t sound like a lie.

  I mean, they weren’t without talent and beauty. Why can’t I muster a single heartfelt word to offer up at that podium to fulfill my final duty as their daughter?

  I should be able to do that.

  But no. Every sweet, saccharine lie makes me feel like a fraud, and I can’t utter the words, because I’ve lost the stomach to live in a way that isn’t genuine.

  “You’re tan,” Mirai says.

  I turn my eyes on her, seeing her sunglasses dangle from her fingers, her hair pulled back in a tight, low ponytail.

  I love how she looks. She wears a black pencil skirt and a black jacket, a shiny black belt secured around her waist with high heels. Our personal shopper, on the other hand, seems to think I’m still twelve in the dress they prepared for me. I’m covering it up with a long black coat, and since I have gloves on, Mirai must be talking about my face, the only visible skin.

  I nod.

  “Did you like it up there?”

  “Yeah,” I murmur.

  I liked them.

  The empty seat next to me weighs heavy, and I wish Jake was here. He offered, didn’t he? I had to open my big mouth and refuse.

  I haven’t eaten much since I arrived, either. The food here tastes different.

  “I spoke to him on the phone while you were there,” Mirai tells me. “Your uncle, I mean. I was afraid he’d be a jerk.” She laughs a little. “He had a real attitude.”

  I smile to myself, looking back out the window. “Yeah, he does,” I whisper.

  But I’m full of pride. I like him that way.

  “I invited them,” she says. “I offered to bring them out.”

  “They’ll never leave Colorado.”

  Noah, maybe. Jake, unwillingly. And Kaleb…I can’t see him anywhere else.

  My breathing turns ragged as I think about what time it is there and what they’re probably doing right now. Noah would be off doing his test runs, wasting way more time than he was allowed, and Jake will yell at him when he gets back before ordering him inside to help me with lunch…

  But no. I drop my eyes.

  I’m not in the kitchen. Noah will make lunch himself.

 
; Or run to town for cheeseburgers.

  I wonder if he got that stain off the seat. Knowing Noah, he just left it. He’s so lazy about some things.

  “The reverend will speak first,” Mirai speaks up, “followed by me, George Palmer, Cassidy Lee, and then Delmont Williams.”

  I sit back in my seat and look out the front windshield, past the driver, to see the hearse carrying my parents. First to the funeral. Then to the crematorium.

  My throat swells.

  “The reverend will then ask if anyone else would like to say something,” she continues in a slow, soft voice. “If you decide you want to speak, feel free to go ahead then, okay?”

  Her voice is like she’s explaining this to a child. Like she’s afraid I’ll wake up screaming if she’s too loud.

  “You don’t have to do that,” I tell her. “You don’t have to talk like that. I’m not asleep.”

  She stares at me, drawing in a deep breath as her eyes start to glisten. And then she turns away, so I won’t see.

  “Do you remember your night terrors?” she asks, staring out the window. “We talked about them when you were little.”

  They came back in Colorado. I haven’t told her that, and I won’t.

  “It happened every night,” she explains. “We would wake you up, stop your screaming, and then put you back to sleep.”

  I vaguely remember it. I was so young.

  She swallows. “One night, I just waited for you to fall asleep,” she says, “and I crawled in next to you.”

  She looks back at me.

  “Nothing. No terrors,” she tells me. “And the next night, the same thing. No terrors when I slept with you.”

  My chin trembles, and I clench my jaw to stop it.

  A tear falls down her cheek as she can only manage a whisper. “You just needed what everyone needs,” she tells me. “A home.”

  I tighten my fists, trying to keep my breathing steady.

  “It’s not a place, Tiernan. It’s a feeling.” Her voice shakes. “Even when you grew out of the terrors, you still only managed four or five hours of sleep a night in that house. With them. That’s why I wasn’t upset when they sent you away to school when you were only eleven.” She sniffles, a sob escaping as she looks away. “Maybe, finally, you’d sleep.”

  The car stops and the door opens, Mirai quickly putting on her sunglasses and wiping tears away as she climbs out.