My phone rings in my hand, and thinking it’s probably Loreen, I move to answer it. Trevor’s name in big letters on my caller ID catches the corner of my eye and I send him straight to voice mail. As much as I need Trevor to keep my finger on the silent pulse of my postmortem career, I don’t need to jump every time he calls.
“Shy!” my dad hollers from his office. “Pack your bags. We’re going up to the lake to fish this weekend. Bass are bitin’ and we wanna grab some while we still can without freezin’ our balls off.”
I cringe and spin my chair to face him. “Oooh, yeah…I don’t have balls, so I’m gonna pass.”
“Family time, it’ll be fun.” The skin around his eyes crinkles with a semi-smile.
“As enticing as a weekend in a crappy little cabin while you and Cody fart and drink beer sounds, I’ll have to pass. I picked up a shift at the bar.” Or I just decided I would.
“That’s not how it is and you know it.” He sorts and stacks some papers. “Only sissies get a cabin. We camp.”
I roll my eyes and he laughs in his usual grumbly way as I punch out a quick text to Loreen confirming that I’ll take the shift. “Fish guts, chewing tobacco spit, and no bathing for forty-eight hours. Sorry to miss it.”
“Suit yourself.” He kicks back and studies me. “If you’re staying home, I’ll have Lucas check in on you while we’re gone.”
My eyes go wide, but I spin and give him my back before he notices.
“…such thing as being too safe.”
“I’m fine, Dad. You don’t have to do that. Lucas is busy on his piece for the McKinstry place. I don’t need a babysitter.”
“He’s right down the road. I’ll just ask him to pop in and make sure you’re okay.”
“Make sure I’m okay? Dad, that’s insane. You do realize I’ve lived alone before and managed to survive, right?”
“It’ll make me feel better to know someone’s checkin’ in on you.”
“I’m not a little girl. I can take care of myself.” Anger wars with panic. My dad pushing Lucas at me again might spook him. After all, the last time this happened ended with Gage.
“It’s not a big deal. Do it for me, okay? Give your old man some peace of mind.”
“But Lucas—”
“He doesn’t mind, Shy.” I hear the loud thump of his work boots as he moves across the small portable office to my desk.
“How do you know? Just because you give him a place to stay doesn’t mean you can take advantage of him.”
His eyes narrow and he tilts his head. “Not taking advantage. I’d ask Cody to do the same thing.”
“But he’s my brother. Lucas is my…” I throw my hands in the air. “Nothing.” The word tastes sour in my mouth.
He leans close. “You sure ’bout that?”
“Dad!”
“Lock up when you leave.” He stomps past me and out the door, calling over his shoulder as he goes, “I’ll see you Sunday night.”
Ugh! Does the man ever friggin’ listen?
Lucas
“…so I’d appreciate it if you’d stop by and check on Shy while we’re gone.” Nash stands with one heavy boot on the bottom step of the porch, leg straight, as if he’s holding the house back to keep it from attacking.
I grip the V-groove chisel and force myself to set down the mantelpiece I’d been working on when he showed up. The air is cooler in the evenings and there’s a time just before the sun dips below the tree line when everything in the forest seems to come into focus. Shadows dance and light bounces. I’d moved my chair to the porch to work, having no idea my quiet evening was about to get interrupted.
“Yes, sir.” I nod while my body aches to yell no.
I’m not ready to face her inquisitive eyes, her probing questions; I’ve barely managed to swallow all that I did, that Gage did. One thing I do remember and could never forget is the moment our lips touched before Gage threw me into the dark. I’ve relived it in my dreams, the subtle breath she took when I pressed my lips to hers. I felt the black come, thought I could hold it off. I was wrong. But I remember that kiss. As for what happened between Shyann and him, I’m still in the dark.
I can’t be trusted around Shyann.
But Nash Jennings believes in me. He’s given me a job, a place to live, and helped me to find my talent and use it to make money. He’s done more for me than the California juvenile detention center, more than the halfway houses with all their good intentions, more than I could ever accomplish on my own. He deserves what very little I have to give.
He peers up from the dog bowls that sit just left of the bottom step. “Got a dog?”
“Stray.”
He merely shrugs. “Good. Dog’ll keep away the critters.”
I nod.
He slaps a hand on his thigh, signaling the end of the conversation, but holds up one beefy, calloused hand, like he forgot to tell me something. “Fair warning, Shy isn’t keen on bein’ looked after. If you could, I don’t know, make your checkin’ in seem casual, that’d help your cause.” He nods without sparing even a single glance to the house and turns to move back to his truck. “Be back Sunday.”
“Yes, sir.” He can’t hear me, and I’m stuck on the porch trying to figure out how the hell I’m going to manage dropping in on Shyann.
My palms sweat and my pulse pounds. Anxiety floods my veins and marks me with insecurity. I’ll just drop by. Easy. Knock, make sure she’s okay, then leave.
“I can do that.” I suck in a shaky breath and sink into my chair.
There’s not much daylight left, so I pull the piece of wood to my lap, bend over it, and angle my chisel. The sharp metal edge thumps wildly against the lumber.
I’m shaking.
Defeat casts over me. I slide the piece to the floor and close my eyes.
“Dammit, Shyann. You’re going to ruin everything for me.”
Shyann
“…officials have yet to comment on what is predicted be an economic—”
Click.
“…the CDC reports this year to be the worst flu season since—”
Click.
“… plane went down after pilots radioed in—”
Click.
“…Kanye West is at it again—”
Click.
The television flashes and fades to black and I toss the remote onto the coffee table. My dad refuses to get cable television, so my options for six o’clock on a Friday night are news or entertainment news. Lucky me.
I’d rather watch dust settle than other people live out what should have been my future. The good news is, feeling sorry for myself and wallowing in my own mistakes has kept my mind from wandering to Lucas. But sure enough, the second the distraction is gone, my thoughts are back on the beautifully broken man.
What must life be like for him? He’d talked about his brothers and even a sister. He has a family, so why is he here alone in Payson? Maybe he was forced out because of his condition?
I push up from the threadbare couch and move to the kitchen. My heart squeezes as memories of cooking for my mom push thoughts of Lucas from my head. She had a passion for cooking, which made her last few months with a feeding tube feel like a cruel joke. She was so young, not even forty years old, when she was diagnosed and died two years later. We—no, she—deserved more time.
Slamming cupboards, I decide that after dinner I’ll go into town, maybe catch a movie. Anything to get away from this house and its depressing memories that never seem to let up.
A quick once-over of the freezer and I settle on frozen pizza. I rip open the packaging and toss the icy disk into the oven without waiting for it to preheat. The kitchen timer ticks loudly, breaking up the dreaded silence. I drum my fingers against the countertop. This’ll take forever and every passing second of quiet feels like a century. I crank up the heat to defrost my dinner faster—
A knock sounds at the door and I jump.
My instincts scream, Murderer! until logic reminds me it’s
probably my babysitter, but if good looks could kill, I’d be a goner. As embarrassing as it is to be checked in on, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little excited about seeing Lucas, getting my eyes on the subject of all my thoughts.
“Coming.” I pad across the kitchen floor in sock-covered feet and take a steadying breath before swinging open the door.
“Hey, Lucas.”
My heart kicks behind my ribs at seeing him, standing there looking as timid and handsome as ever in jeans that seem to hug his long body in all the right places and a long-sleeved blue T-shirt. The top half of his face is shadowed beneath that damn ball cap I’m starting to wish I could hide so I didn’t have to fight to see his eyes.
He shoves his hands into his pockets. “Your dad, he—”
“I know. He’s a little overprotective.” I move into the doorway and lean a shoulder against the frame. “You didn’t have to do this. I’m fine here alone.”
He looks around, everywhere but at me. “Promised Mr. Jennings I’d do it.”
“Gotcha. But as you can see…” I motion to myself, from my faded Jennings Contractors tee to my pink pajama pants. “I’m good.” It’s then I realize I didn’t hear him arrive. Here in the mountains where the earth is covered in rocks, dirt, and pine needles; it’s impossible to get anywhere without making noise. “Did you walk?”
He looks down the path that leads to the river house. “Yeah.”
“Lucas, you shouldn’t walk that far this late at night. At least, not without a rifle.”
For the first time, his eyes meet mine. “Don’t like guns. Besides, it’s not that far.”
“I know how far it is. I walked it, remember?” As soon as the words leave my lips, I curse.
“Remember what? Why were you walking it?” His voice is pained, and the sound makes my chest ache.
“Never mind. I’m sorry.” I blow out a long breath and step back into the house. “You wanna come in?”
He doesn’t answer verbally but takes a retreating step.
Okay, fine. I walk outside and close the door behind me, then drop to an old iron bench my mom brought home from a garage sale when I was ten. The thing weighs a ton and Dad said he’d get rid of it if he were strong enough to lift it. He’d smile at her because we all knew he loved the damn thing for the simple fact that it made her happy. The bench was covered in Tupperware the week Mom died. It became a drop-off for the town do-gooders. Food for the mourning, as if we could eat when our entire world had been ripped apart.
I tuck my feet up under my butt and dust the dirt from my socks.
Lucas moves a little closer to lean against a large pine tree. “Tell me why I’d remember you walking miles through the forest, Shyann.”
I contemplate lying, but something tells me he needs my honesty more than my protection. “That day in your kitchen, Gage he, uh…sent me home.”
He leans his head back hard enough that it thumps against the trunk. “I’m sorry.”
“He’s protective of you, Lucas.”
“I know.”
“He doesn’t need to protect you from me.”
His eyes look almost black as he zeros in on mine.
“I’d never hurt you,” I whisper.
“There’s all kinds of hurt.” His hands fist against his thighs and he stares at me as if he wants to say something, to confess something, but can’t.
“What is it?” I turn my whole body to face him. “Tell me.”
“Did we, I mean, did Gage…do anything?”
The cool air does nothing to temper my cheeks. “He kissed me.”
There’s a sharp intake of breath and then he drops his gaze. “I’m sorry.” He doesn’t sound apologetic. He sounds…angry.
“I’m not.”
His head whips around to face me, his jaw tight. “How can you say that?”
“I don’t know, I mean, I’m trying to figure it all out, too, but…” My stomach tumbles with nerves. I’ve never had a problem speaking my mind before, but with Lucas everything means more. “I like you, Lucas.” There, I said it. Now he can run or fess up.
“Wha…why?” His eyebrows drop low over his eyes and he takes a few steps closer and into the light so I can see the curiosity on his face.
I almost laugh at how genuinely shocked and interested in my answer he seems. He’s not fishing for compliments; it’s as if he really can’t believe I’d have any kind of good feelings toward him. Which is as heartbreaking as it is endearing.
“Why not?”
He grimaces, and I fear he might take off at any second, so I may as well get it all out.
“You’re sweet, polite, and you don’t try to push me around or control me.”
His expression grows more intense.
“You’ve been through something and I get the feeling that what you’ve shared is only a small fraction of that.” I stand and move closer to him, not enough to touch but close enough that he can see my face in the dim light. “But sometimes, when I look at you, I see a hurt that is so familiar. I can’t explain it more than to say I feel like I understand you.”
He shuts down, closes himself off by turning away from me, so I’m stuck with his profile. “You don’t know me.”
“I know, and the little I do know about you scares me.”
“It should.” He looks down at me and there’s a glint of danger in his eyes, as if Gage is simmering just below the surface. “I can’t do this.”
“We’re not doing anything, Lucas. Can we just try being friends?”
“I told you, I don’t have friends.”
“And I told you, I don’t either. So we’ll be each other’s first.”
This time it’s him who blushes, a crack in his guarded demeanor. I breathe in a sigh of relief, hoping he’ll give us a shot.
An awkward silence builds between us and I’m so afraid if it stretches out any longer I’ll lose him.
I clear my throat. “Have you eaten?”
“I’m not hungry.”
“Okay, tough guy.” I grab his hand and for a second he tries to pull away, but I refuse to let go. “Come on, let me feed you. Then I’ll take you home.”
He seems conflicted, but I ignore it, hoping it’s not me he’s conflicted about but that it’s this situation he’s unsure how to handle. I drag him through the door and he freezes.
“Something’s burning.” He pushes past me and races toward the kitchen. A few tendrils of smoke slither from the oven.
“Aw, crap.”
He grabs a dishtowel and drops the oven door, pulling out a blackened pizza and dropping it into the sink. With a flick of his wrist, he turns on the water and I move around, opening all the windows, hoping to air it out before the smoke detector alerts the entire mountain to the fact that I’m a crappy cook.
He coughs a couple times and continues to fan the smoke toward the open window.
I use a dishtowel to do the same, as if I’m sending smoke signals for takeout. “I hope you like your pizza thin and crispy with extra cheese.”
“And charcoal.”
My jaw drops and I prop my hands on my hips. “My goodness, Lucas…did you just make a joke?”
His lips twitch and he shakes his head. “No. I was being serious.”
Even his barely-there smile makes my stomach flip.
I fake gasp and point at him grinning. “Two jokes!”
He shuts off the water and tosses the towel on the counter, then turns, leans against it, and crosses his arms across his chest. It’s one of the few times I’ve seen him act comfortable, almost confident. “Now what?”
I chew on the inside of my mouth to hold back my smile. “Hmmm…I suppose since it’s your job to make sure I’m taken care of we better grab some food.”
He drops his arms and shifts on his feet. “Oh, like…out?”
“You afraid to be seen in public with me or something?” Not that I’d blame him. “The rumors will fly, and the gossip circles will buzz, not to mention it’ll give Sam a
reason to hate me even more—”
“Your friend Sam?”
Oh shit. “Uh…” I wave him off, saving the Sam story for later, fearing it’ll spook him. “Better yet, let’s hit a drive-through and take it back to your place.”
His eyes grow wide.
“I’ve gotta drop you off anyway, right? It’s a nice night; we’ll eat in the truck by the river. It’ll be fun. That way I don’t even have to change my clothes.” I wink and head back to my room to grab my boots and my wallet before he can protest.
I can’t explain this overpowering need to be with Lucas. The more I learn about him, the hungrier I am to know more. In so many ways we’re nothing alike, but in all the ways that matter we are. He’s complex, has the potential to be dangerous, and I’m putting myself in his path no matter how many times he pushes me away. There’s also my draw to protect him. The strange pull that makes me want to follow him around and keep him safe. I blame it on the sexy vulnerability he possesses, the mysterious brooding that calls to a woman’s need to soothe and heal.
Then there’s Gage.
A man I know little about other than the fact that he’s volatile. If I want to spend time with Lucas, I’ll need to tread lightly to avoid triggering Gage. That means I’ll have to keep my distance, work on being friends until Lucas trusts me enough to let me in.
Patience has never been my strong suit, but I’m willing to give it a shot.
Lucas
“Burgers, Mexican, or…burgers?” We’re at a red light and Shyann’s leaning forward over her steering wheel to peek at all the fast-food places that converge at the main intersection in town. “Oh, there’s Chinese, but Chinese drive-through?” She purses her lips. “Seems fishy if you ask me. Amazing how many places have popped up since I lived here.” Her eyes meet mine and even in the dim light of the truck cab they practically sparkle. “Preference?”
“No.” The angry roll in my stomach would prefer peanut butter sandwiches, but I keep my mouth shut. She knows about Gage and invited me into her house, made plans for us to have dinner together alone, and friendship. She offered me friendship. I’ll eat whatever she wants to keep from screwing this up.
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