Credence

by Penelope Douglas

  “Are you okay?” Jake asks.

  I nod quickly, too worried about the boys. I can’t even say someone else started it. Kaleb technically made the first move.

  His kiss still warms my forehead.

  “Get in the truck.” Jake shoves his keys at me and pushes me toward the door.

  I step backward, the music stopped and bystanders watching the fight. My heart hammers in my chest, feeling like this is my fault for some reason, but I know it’s not.

  If I weren’t here, though…

  Jake digs through the fray, finding his sons, and I spin around, running outside and to our truck parked on the curb.

  Snow falls, fat flakes hitting my hair and bare shoulders, and I rip off my heels, jogging across the frigid, wet pavement to the truck.

  Climbing in, I toss my heels in the back and start the engine.

  I shiver, turning on the heaters and starting the wipers. Thankfully, the windows haven’t frosted yet, and I blow into my hands, trying to warm them up. I left my shawl inside, dammit.

  The door to the bar flies open, and I look over, seeing Kaleb charge out, followed quickly by his father and brother. He heads around the truck for the driver’s side.

  “Are you okay?” I ask as he opens the door.

  But I know I won’t get an answer.

  Pushing me over, he climbs in and shifts the truck into first as Jake takes the seat next to me and Noah climbs in the back.

  I take the hint and scurry into the back seat to join him.

  The bar door opens again and guys rush out, Terrance leading the pack, and I barely have time to look at Kaleb before he shifts gears again, putting the truck in reverse this time.

  “Aw, fuck,” Noah says like he knows what Kaleb is about to do, and I whip my head around just as Kaleb slams on the gas. Our truck heads straight for a row of bikes, and I grapple for the handle above my door, taking hold of it and squeezing my eyes shut as the truck drives right over the dirt bikes.

  “Kaleb!” Jake yells.

  But it’s too late. We rock side to side, crawling over the motorcycles, and my heart lodges in my throat, but I almost want to laugh, too.

  They deserved that.

  “You motherfucker!” I hear someone yell.

  And then a loud bark. “You’re dead!”

  I look out the window and suddenly see two cops across the street, dressed in heavy jackets and winter hats as they step out of their cruiser.

  “Oh, shit,” I gasp.

  “Kaleb, go now!” Noah yells, seeing what I’m seeing.

  He doesn’t hesitate further. Before the officers can stop him, Kaleb hits the gas, speeds off, and I look out the rear window, seeing the guys scramble for their bikes and the cops jump back in their car.

  The truck races through the night, the snow whipping across the windshield in the black night, and I slip my shoes back on.

  Kaleb kills the headlights, as if the whole town doesn’t know where we’re going, and I peer over the back of his seat, trying to see what he sees in his rearview mirror.

  Lights trail us far back, and I hear the tires spin underneath us as the slick snow turns to ice. Jake flips on the defroster.

  “Are they really chasing us in this weather?” I blurt out, looking behind me. “Maybe you should stop.”

  They’re on dirt bikes. It’s freezing. This could get a lot worse than it already has if there’s an accident.

  No one hears me, though.

  “Slow down,” Jake orders him.

  But Kaleb doesn’t listen. The truck fishtails, and Kaleb jerks the wheel to the shoulder, using the gravel for traction as he gets us farther and farther up into the mountains.

  The bikes gain on us, since they’re carrying less weight, but then I see a couple of headlights drop as if the bikes slid. The others follow Kaleb’s example and use the shoulder as the cops’ red and blue lights flash behind.

  No, no, no… This is bad.

  We keep going, and I notice less lights behind us now as some of the racers giving chase decide to give up in the thick snowfall and save it for another day.

  Why are we running, though? A bar fight isn’t a big deal, but Kaleb destroying property is. The pursuit won’t end once we’re behind our front door.

  All of a sudden, the police lights disappear. I watch their headlights, seeing them turn around and head back to town, as well.

  They know where to find Kaleb tomorrow, I guess.

  The tires skid under us, and the truck starts sailing backward. I suck in a breath, digging my nails into the back of Kaleb’s seat. We shouldn’t be doing this.

  “Oh, my God,” I mumble, looking down the cliff on my side of the truck, fear paralyzing me at the drop.

  The bikes behind us struggle to climb the road, and just as I’m about to suggest we stop or get out to walk back to the house, since we’re less than a mile away, Kaleb turns the wheel right and takes us off the road. The truck plummets into a ditch, and he punches the gas, taking us up into the forest, the truck moving more steadily through the trees.

  I look behind me, seeing the bikes fall behind, lost in the darkness, snow, and without Kaleb’s taillights to follow, they won’t know where they’re going.

  I don’t think I breathe the entire way home.

  Kaleb drives over the forest floor, taking us up to the house, and when he pulls the truck to a stop, we all climb out, looking around for any sign of the cops or racers.

  “Get inside now!” Jake orders.

  We run into the house, slamming the door behind us, and Noah falls back on the door, breathing hard.

  What did we do?

  There’s going to be a punishment for that. They won’t let it go.

  All of a sudden, though, Noah starts laughing.

  Hysterically.

  I stand up and scowl down at him. “This isn’t funny,” I growl. “Someone could’ve died. They’ll still be up here once the snow stops. The cops will arrest him.”

  I look at Kaleb, who’s as cool as a cucumber, moving into the kitchen and whipping off his shirt like he’s getting ready for bed or some shit.

  Noah’s laughter dies down, and he rises, coming to stand next to me. “The snow won’t stop,” he tells me.

  I meet his eyes as he pats my arm.

  “Until April,” he finishes.

  And he follows Kaleb to the fridge for a beer.

  Tiernan

  There’s already three inches on my balcony. The snowstorm rages, large clumps of bright, white flakes falling to the ground with such density that I can barely tell it’s night. I let out a silent laugh, peering through the windows of my double doors. The house is quiet, the guys went to bed long ago, but I can’t sleep. I want to see this.

  It’s so beautiful. And for some reason, I’m in heaven, despite Noah’s griping about there being no civilization for the next six months. I have all I need right here.

  Jake had us tend to the horses before bed, but I still feel bad for them out there in the barn. The snow is definitely sticking, which means the ground temperature is as cold as the clouds.

  I turn around, shivering as I fist my hands under my arms. I should put on the long underwear I bought, but I hate pants under the sheets. I walk over, deciding to stay in my silk shorts, button-down Oxford and wrapped in a blanket as I crawl into bed.

  But I spot something lying at the bottom of the bed and stop, walking over and picking up Kaleb’s belt.

  Or the one he gave to me. I’d tossed it there when I came up earlier.

  Holding one end, I thread it through my fist, stretching it out to see the ornate carvings.

  He’s kind of an artist, isn’t he? I picture him working on this, probably in the loft or one of the rooms in the barn I haven’t explored yet, where he has a place he won’t be disturbed. Or maybe in his bedroom.

  What’s his room like anyway? I’ve never dared go up there, and the one time my uncle asked me to fold a load of laundry, none of Kaleb’s stuff was in the lo
ad, so even then I didn’t have an excuse to go into his room like I do Noah’s.

  I graze my thumb over the dreamcatcher.

  What was he thinking when he carved all this stuff? He must’ve thought of me.

  He spent time on this. A long time.

  I stare at the notches, absently walking over to my floor-length mirror as I thread the end through the buckle and slip my wrist through the hole.

  I yank the belt, pulling the rest of it through the buckle and feeling the cool leather tighten around my skin.

  Something rises up my throat, almost like vomit but almost like my stomach and how it’s flipping, too. My chest rises and falls in shallow breaths.

  I look in the mirror.

  The belt fits like a cuff on my wrist, the slack hanging, and I stop breathing, the image of Kaleb grabbing it and tying it to his bed above some girl’s head flashing in my mind.

  He yanks the strap, her body jerking, and I whimper.

  Jesus. I shake my head and take it off, tossing it back on the bed.

  I’m not old enough for that. And…I have two wrists. He only gave me one belt. Nice little scare you tried to give me, Noah.

  I shiver again, looking over at my fire. Out of wood. Great.

  I drop my blanket on the bed and hurry down the hallway, jogging down the stairs. I’m not going into the shop. It’s too frickin’ cold.

  The fire in the great room still crackles, and I hurry over to the stockpile next to the fireplace.

  But I can’t resist.

  I turn around and bend over just slightly, letting the heat warm the back of my thighs. I face my fingers to the flames as well, wiggling them and basking in the heat.

  I tip my head up and see Kaleb sitting in the high back leather chair not three feet away, watching me.

  A shotgun lays across his lap, and he holds the neck of a beer bottle in his fingers.

  I straighten, the hair on my arms standing on end. “Is everything okay?”

  He slouches a little, his long legs bent ninety degrees at the knees as the firelight flashes across his bare chest.

  “I know you understand me,” I say. “I know you can nod. Or write or something. Why don’t you want to talk to me?”

  The light makes his eyes glow as he watches, and I frown.

  He acts like an animal. He just eats and sleeps and…

  The shop door opens and closes, and I pull my eyes away from Kaleb to see Noah, walking through the great room.

  He looks over at me as he also carries a shotgun.

  “Can’t sleep, either?” he asks.

  I watch him check the locks. “It was cold,” I reply. “I came to get more wood.”

  Why are they both still up? And armed? I thought we were safe.

  “Watch a movie with us?” he suggests.

  “I thought you said they couldn’t get up here,” I say instead.

  He plops down on the couch, propping up the weapon on the arm of the sofa. “They can’t.”

  “So why are you both up guarding the place?”

  “Precaution.”

  “For what?” I press, almost amused. “Is your plan really to open fire on police officers if they show up?”

  Noah shakes his head. “Not them.”

  I shoot a look to Kaleb, who watches the fire as he takes a drink of his beer, and then back to Noah.

  He must see a puzzled expression on my face, because he’s quick to explain.

  “Holcomb and his cronies know that we’re safe from them up here during the winter,” he points out, “but also…whatever and whoever is in town… is safe from us, too.” He grabs the beer on the end table and twists off the top, tossing it next to the lamp. “If the snow isn’t as thick as we want, I wouldn’t put it past him to ambush us tonight and try to take you back down the mountain before we woke up and lost our chance to follow you in the weather.”

  So…

  I glance between them. “You’re guarding me?”

  He feigns a smile as his only answer.

  They’re awake at one in the morning, armed and alert for me?

  “Awwwww,” I croon, faking teary eyes and putting my hand to my heart.

  “Shut up,” Noah grumbles.

  I laugh quietly, walking into the kitchen and grabbing a beer from the fridge.

  “So, what will happen, then?” I ask, sitting cross-legged on the couch next to Noah. “When the snow melts, will Kaleb be in trouble?”

  What happened tonight was the locals’ fault, but I know if I wasn’t here it wouldn’t have happened at all.

  “It’s not your fault,” Noah assures me, pointing the remote and clicking the TV on. “They were looking for you for a reason.”

  “Why?”

  He takes a deep breath and sighs. “Because for some people, it’s not enough that they have their share,” he explains. “They want it all.”

  I study him as he scrolls the streaming choices. I’m not sure I know what he’s talking about, but at least it sounds like this didn’t start with me. I pull the blanket off the back of the sofa and cover up my legs, taking a drink of my beer.

  The room falls quiet as we view the selections, but I’m not concentrating very hard. Noah is dressed in black pajama pants and a white sleeveless T-shirt, his skin still so tan and smooth, and I want to roll my eyes at myself for noticing. I just don’t get many opportunities to lounge around with them. They often stay up to watch TV at night, but I’m so wiped by the end of the day, I’m aching for my bed.

  He settles on a film, something with Tom Cruise when he was younger, and I lie my head back, holding my beer as I try to watch.

  The only thing I know about this movie is that he dances in his underwear, and I find myself constantly looking at Kaleb to see any sign of amusement. Or perhaps a foot tap to the music.

  But his face is hidden behind the curve of the chair back, and his body barely shifts during the film.

  There’s a decent soundtrack by Tangerine Dream, though. Unfortunately, Tom (or Joel) is a good kid, trying to lose his virginity at the behest of his stupid friends when his parents go out of town for a few days. So what does he do? He hires a hooker and turns his parents’ house into a brothel. It’s nothing more than a teen male fantasy, and I can’t believe this is the movie that turned him into a household name.

  I roll my eyes and cross my arms over my chest. “This film is so dumb.”

  “Is it?” Noah asks, watching Joel and Lana have sex—in public—on a train. “Your laughing over there is sending me mixed signals.”

  I never laughed. The comedy is subpar.

  “This was similar to how I lost my virginity,” Noah offers, taking a swig of his beer.

  I cock an eyebrow and look over at him. “A prostitute?”

  “An older woman who only wanted one thing.”

  “Your money?”

  I hear a breathy laugh and look over, seeing Kaleb’s chest and stomach shake a little. Did I just…? Did he just…?

  Oh, my God. He laughed. At my joke.

  I finish my beer and set the bottle on the coffee table, the glow from the fire the only thing lighting the dark room. “Well, I’m sorry things didn’t go better for both of you tonight.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Last chance for overnight visitors,” I tease. “Nothing to play with this winter.”

  Noah sits there a moment, looking like he’s contemplating something. “Maybe,” he says.

  I narrow my eyes.

  Maybe…

  I nod. “You’re right. I mean, you can’t be the only people up here, right?” I ask. “There have to be other mountain men?”

  He looks over at me. “Excuse me?”

  “More warm bodies,” I clarify, maintaining a straight face. “There have to be more guys holed up in cabins up here, right? It’s okay. It happens in prison. Gay for the stay.”

  His eyebrows shoot up. “Excuse me?”

  But before I can answer, he launches over, grabs my legs
and pulls me down the couch toward him as he jabs me in my ribs.

  I try to hold back my laughter, but a little bit escapes. “Stop.”

  “What did you say?” He pokes my inner thighs, and I slap at his hands.

  “Well, you are kind of metro.”

  “And what about you?”

  “What about me what?” I curl, shielding myself from his fingers in my stomach.

  “I saw you dancing with Cici at the race.” He leans over me, continuing his attack of jabs. “Maybe same-sex heat turns you on.”

  I let out sad, little laughs but plead at him with my eyes. “Stop it.” I shove his hands away, but they keep coming back. “I mean, it’s okay. You have to cope with the seclusion somehow, right?”

  He growls and grabs my feet, tickling the underside. I kick, laughing hard. “Stop it!”

  But then, all of a sudden, he grabs me by the collar and pulls me up onto his lap.

  He wraps his arms around me, whispering in my ear. “You wanna see how we really cope with the seclusion?”

  My smile falls, my laughter gone, and I watch as he scrolls the TV’s files and finally clicks on one.

  My ass is planted firmly in his lap, my back against his chest, and all I’m aware of is his body underneath mine, through the thin fabric we wear.

  The screen goes black, the whole room cast in darkness again except for the fire, and Noah sits back, pulling me with him.

  I tense.

  Another soft glow lights up the room, but I’m afraid to raise my eyes because I know what he put on the TV.

  I can’t look.

  But I don’t want to leave, either.

  I hear kissing. And rain.

  The acting is bad—my face warms with embarrassment for them—but… I don’t know.

  I stay sitting there on top of Noah.

  It’s a boy and girl in the film. Teenagers. They’re making out in their car, and I can tell from the conversation that they’re in the woods on a rainy night. Secluded and alone.

  Or so they think.

  I look up, taking in the gradient picture of the porno, the windows of their car fogged up as the rain pounds the roof, but then flashing lights appear and two cops are knocking on their window.