Dangerous

by Daniels, Suzannah

  “Yeah?”

  “Can I come in?”

  “Yeah.”

  My mom cracked the door open and stepped inside. “We have a visitor. Why don’t you get dressed and meet us in the great room?”

  “Mom, I really don’t feel….”

  “It’s Dara’s grandmother.”

  That got my attention. I pushed myself up on my elbow. “What’s she doing here?”

  “She wants to talk to us, all of us.”

  “What’s there to talk about?” I asked.

  “I don’t know, but it seems very important to her that we all listen to what she has to say. I want you to get dressed and join us in the great room.”

  I rolled out of bed. “Fine.” I had to confess that this turn of events had piqued my curiosity.

  My mother stepped out of my room and gently closed the door. I pulled on a pair of jeans and a tee shirt, combed my hair, and walked barefoot to the great room, where my father and mother were already discussing the weather with Granny.

  Granny was perched on the edge of her chair. In my mind, she was the quintessential grandmother with her soft, gray curls that framed a kind, wrinkled face, her easy smile, and her blue polyester pantsuit.

  “Granny, how are you?” I asked, as I entered the room from the hallway.

  “I’m doing good. It’s Dara that I’m worried about,” she said, her hands folded primly in her lap. “I know y’all are wondering what I’m doing here, and I just want a few minutes of your time to explain some things to you. I’m not asking you to respond. I just want to say my piece.”

  “Okay,” I agreed, taking a seat by my mother on the couch.

  Granny looked at my mom, and she gave Granny an encouraging nod.

  “I know that because of the actions of my son, y’all have lost your son. If I could, I would gladly give up my life, if it would mean that your son could be here with you, safe and sound.

  “I lost my son a long time ago to alcoholism. Believe me, I tried to get him some help, but nothing worked. He would disappear for months at a time. Dara rarely even saw him. When the incident happened, I didn’t tell Dara. She was only fourteen years old, and well, I just didn’t know how to break the news to her. When it was time for the trial, I sent Dara to stay with my niece in Nashville. She didn’t know what was going on. She just thought she was visiting them for the summer. When she came back, I did tell her that her father had killed someone while driving under the influence and that he had been incarcerated. I never told her about the victim because he was close to her own age, and I didn’t want to upset her. She never asked any questions. I thought it was probably better that way. I wanted to protect her, so I told her not to tell anyone. Since Dara has her mother’s last name, I figured that most people at school wouldn’t make the connection between Dara and her father.

  “Dara told me that she had lied to you, Stone, about her father, but when she told you she didn’t know he had killed your brother, she was telling the truth. I didn’t make the connection, either.

  “Dara’s heartbroken. Be mad at my son. Be mad at me. But please, don’t hold it against Dara.” She held up her hands. “I don’t want you to say anything. Just please think about it.”

  My mother nodded her head. “We will, Mrs. Baxter. We just want you to understand how difficult the entire situation is for us.”

  “Believe me, honey, I understand.” Granny handed me an envelope. “Dara wanted me to give this to you.”

  I took it from her, staring at Dara’s neat handwriting. Then, my eyes met Granny’s. “Thanks for coming by.”

  My father rose, shook her hand, and opened the front door for her.

  After she had left, we all sat in the great room, discussing her visit.

  “We shouldn’t hold the girl or her grandmother responsible,” my father said.

  “I don’t think it’s a matter of anyone holding them responsible,” my mother countered. “It’s just being around them brings it all back.”

  “Olivia, Luke’s gone. We all have to accept that and move on,” Dad said.

  “Then why, even now, do you blame me for his death?” I asked him, anger bubbling up inside of me.

  “Blame you?” he asked. “Is that what you think?”

  “Things have been different since his death. Between us, I mean,” I told my father. “It’s been different since I told you that I had dared him to leave the house that night.”

  “Was I aggravated that you would encourage anyone to sneak out of the house? Yes. Just like I’ve been aggravated all the times that you’ve been caught sneaking out of the house. Was the accident your fault? No, Stone, it wasn’t. Luke made the decision to leave the house that night. You didn’t force him. He should’ve been home, but he wasn’t the one driving under the influence. At over twice the legal limit, I might add. The guy was in Luke’s lane. The blame rests solely on Ford Baxter’s shoulders, and no one else’s.

  “All this time, you thought I blamed you?” he continued, a look of shock on his face.

  “Why wouldn’t I? Nothing I do is ever good enough for you. You’re always telling me that I’m screwing up, that Luke would’ve done things differently. I know that you wish that Luke was here, not me.” I turned and rushed toward my room.

  “That’s not true. Come back here, Stone,” my father thundered.

  “Let him go,” my mother said softly.

  I put on my shoes, grabbed my keys, and stormed out through the basement door. I needed to talk to Dara.

  I texted her and asked her if she could meet me at Quail Mountain Park. In less than a minute, she had texted me back, telling me that she was on her way.

  Since I lived closer to the park, I arrived first. I parked my motorcycle in the shade and waited for her beneath the weeping willow tree.

  When she arrived, I stepped out from under the willow branches. “Hey,” I said when she was close enough to hear me. She looked exhausted and disheveled.

  “Hey, Stone.”

  “How’ve you been?”

  Instead of answering me, she sprinted toward me and flung her arms around my neck, nearly knocking me off balance. “I’m sorry, Stone. I’m sorry that I lied to you.”

  I didn’t respond. I just held her close, realizing how much I had missed her over the last couple of weeks. She smelled good, and I buried my face in her hair.

  I pulled her away from my neck and looked at her. “Dammit, Dara, don’t you understand? You were the one person that made me want to give a damn.” I rammed my hands through my hair. “I thought I could trust you.”

  “You can,” she whispered, leaning into my chest. “I was just embarrassed. Having to tell people that your father is in jail is….”

  “It’s okay, Dara. I get it. I just wished you would’ve trusted me enough to tell me the truth later, after we had gotten to know each other. It was just such a shock.”

  “And you think it wasn’t a shock for me?” she asked, her eyes wide. “What? What is it, Stone?

  “Dara, it’s just….”

  Her lips quivered, and her eyes pooled with tears. I looked away. She knew. She knew what I was going to say.

  “Stone, please…,” her voice trailed off.

  I couldn’t speak. What I needed to say to her would be painful. I watched the emotions on her face, knowing that she understood all too well the words that were lining up on the tip of my tongue. I wanted things to be different, but it felt as though the entire universe worked against us.

  “You haven’t changed your mind, have you?” she asked, her voice cracking as she spoke softly. “You’re done with me.”

  “Don’t say it like that, Dara.”

  “How else should I say it?” she screamed.

  “Calm down,” I whispered in an effort to quiet her.

  The tears streamed down her face. “I knew that I should’ve stayed away from you.”

  “And I warned you to do just that, Dara. Didn’t I tell you that I wasn’t the good guy?”
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  “Don’t do it, Stone. Don’t push me away. That’s what you always do.”

  I exhaled loudly. “It’s all I know to do, Dara. It will never work between us.”

  “How can you say that? Because of my father? Don’t punish me for what my father did, Stone.”

  “I’m not trying to punish you.”

  She sobbed uncontrollably. “Well, it feels like I’m being punished. You make me fall in love with you, and then you just walk out of my life like everyone else does.”

  “What did you say?” I asked, grasping her upper arms and forcing her to look at me.

  “I love you, Stone,” she whispered.

  This girl scared the hell out of me, but I would be a liar if I didn’t admit that I liked the sound of that.

  I closed the distance between us and kissed her urgently. When we were both breathless, I leaned my forehead against hers. “Dara, I need more time to think things through. I just don’t know if I can do this.”

  Silent tears slid down her cheeks, and she nodded.

  “Before I go, I have something for you.” I went to the backpack fastened to my motorcycle and pulled out the small gift I had wrapped for her.

  I handed it to her. “It’s not much, but I thought of you when I saw it. Take it as a peace offering. No matter what happens between us, I want us to be friends.”

  I placed it in her hands.

  She quickly unwrapped it and smiled through her tears. “A hummingbird keychain.”

  “Tom told me that you had gotten a car. I thought you might need a keychain, and the hummingbird made me think of you.” I laughed before I let the bleakness of the entire situation settle back in my bones. “You don’t know how much I wanted to be your sweet drink of nectar.”

  “Stone….”

  I held my finger to her lips to silence her. I couldn’t deal with this right now, and I turned and hurried toward my motorcycle. After our conversation, I had a lot to think about, and I needed to ride.

  Chapter 15

  Stone

  It had been so long since I had given a shit about anything that I had difficulty deciding what I should do. I ached to talk to Dara, but with the new revelation regarding her father, I needed some space from her. Damn it. Just when it appeared that I might actually be able to end the crazy ass ride I’d been on for the last three years by braking to a nice, slow stop instead of crashing and burning in a fiery wreck as I toppled over a cliff, life threw another gut-wrenching twist at me. Could I have a relationship with her without thinking about the atrocity that happened to Luke? It was bad enough that I carried my own burden where he was concerned. Could I take on the burden of looking at her every day, knowing that her father was the one who killed him?

  I considered calling Mike but changed my mind. He was my only real male friend. After I left boarding school, communication with my friends had eventually come to a screeching halt. When I started Quail Mountain High, I really had no desire to socialize, except for the girls who were merely pawns to take my mind off of my miserable life.

  I wondered when things had started to change. Dara was certainly a catalyst, but I thought perhaps the change started a few months after my father bought the bookstore. In an odd way, the bookstore made me feel closer to Luke because he would have loved it. He had enjoyed reading for as long as I could remember. Personally, I could never understand it. Sometimes, instead of riding his dirt bike, he would sit outside under a tree and read, looking up occasionally to see what I was doing.

  I looked out my bedroom window, visualizing Luke under the old oak, an open book across his lap. I wished that he was here, even if it meant that I wasn’t. Luke wouldn’t be wasting his life the way I had been. And there it was. Maybe that’s what my father had been hinting at all this time. Shit. I owed it to Luke to take advantage of…life. It was a precious commodity, and one never knew when death would come calling.

  I exhaled, letting some of my troubles dissipate with my breath. For the first time since Luke had died, I needed to talk to my father.

  I spotted him through the large windows at the back of the house. He was sitting on the back patio with a cup of coffee in his hand, his reading glasses perched on his nose, and a newspaper spread across his lap.

  I walked through the kitchen, opened the back door, and stepped into the early morning sunlight as it peered over the mountaintops, casting a golden hue over the treetops.

  “Dad.”

  He glanced up from the paper. “Yeah, son?”

  “I don’t want you to close the bookstore. I need a little more time.”

  He looked exasperated. “Stone, we’ve already talked about this. The line has to be drawn somewhere. I can’t throw good money after bad.”

  “Dad,” I began, ramming my hands through my hair, “sometimes things are about more than just money.”

  He looked at me, as if waiting for me to explain my comment.

  I blew a breath out, preparing myself for an awkward conversation. “The bookstore reminds me of Luke. I feel a connection to him when I’m there, like he would approve of what I’m doing, you know?”

  My dad sat quietly for a moment, pondering my words.

  “Dad, this is important to me.” All my emotions hit me at once, and I cursed as I struggled to get them under control. I pinched the bridge of my nose. I hadn’t shed one tear in front of another human being since I was in elementary school, and I wasn’t going to start crying like a lovesick schoolgirl now. “I’ve been engulfed in darkness for so long, knowing that it should’ve been me. I should be the dead one. Not Luke.”

  My dad set down his coffee and brushed the paper to the ground, and in one fluid motion, he stood in front of me, grasping my arms. “Stone, don’t say that. If I’ve ever said anything that would make you think that, then I’m sorry. It was never in my thoughts, and it was never my intent. I love you both. I’ve only tried to push you because you haven’t been the same since he died, and it scares the hell out of me. I’ve lost one son. I don’t want to lose another one.”

  I was doing pretty well at holding the shit in until I saw the tears in my dad’s eyes. That’s when I lost it. “I miss him so much, Dad.”

  My dad pulled me to his chest. “I know, son. We all do.”

  I could feel the tears burning as three years of pain, guilt, and anguish rushed to the surface. “He would still be here if it wasn’t for me. It’s my fault that he’s dead, Dad.”

  He hugged me hard. “No, son. It’s not your fault. Let it go. Luke wouldn’t want this for you. He wouldn’t want you to be in so much pain.”

  I nodded my head as I struggled to regain my composure. I knew that if our roles had been reversed, I wouldn’t have wanted Luke to blame himself. But that didn’t necessarily make it any easier.

  He finally let go and looked at me. “I’m sorry, Stone. I’ve failed you. I knew you were hurting, but I didn’t know how to help you. You refused the counseling and support groups. I didn’t know what else to do.”

  “The bookstore helps, Dad.”

  “I had no idea the bookstore meant so much to you. You’re right. Luke would approve. If you want to make a go of it, then why don’t we give it another six months? Then, we can step back and take another look at it.”

  I couldn’t stop the grin that shot across my face as relief flowed through my body. I felt as if a crushing burden had been lifted from my lungs, as if for once, I had done something right. “Thanks, Dad. I’m going to make Luke proud.”

  My dad pursed his lips and nodded his head. “Yeah, you will. You’ve already made me proud, son.” He sat back down, scooping up his newspaper and retrieving his coffee. “Now, get out of here. You’ve got a bookstore to run, and from everything I’ve heard about Dara Golding, I wouldn’t let her slip through my fingers if I were you.”

  I turned to leave, grateful to my father for his unsolicited advice where Dara was concerned. After hearing his comment, I knew that he would have no issues with Dara if I continued d
ating her, which most likely meant that he and my mother had discussed it. If my father had no issues, it was a pretty safe bet that my mother wouldn’t, either.

  Now, I had to figure out whether I would.

  Dara

  The small wedding chapel was decorated beautifully on the day of Granny’s wedding. Tears filled my eyes as Granny and Mr. Milton spoke their wedding vows and promised their undying devotion to each other. They made the sweetest couple, and my heart swelled at the love they shared. I missed my Papa, but Mr. Milton was a good man. He would make Granny happy.

  I didn’t notice Stone until after the cake-cutting ceremony at the reception. Looking extremely handsome in a black suit, he sat alone at a small table in the back of the room, and he was watching me.

  Slowly, I made my way to him, greeting guests as I meandered along the circuitous path between the tables. Up close, he nearly took my breath away. He stood as I approached, his ice blue eyes studying me with a hint of seriousness. His dark hair was combed neatly off his forehead. His angular jaw, my favorite feature, was cleanly shaven, and I had the overwhelming desire to touch his face, his hair, his lips.

  He pulled out the chair beside him. “Do you want to sit down?”

  “You came.” I said, relieved to see him and glad that Granny had successfully delivered the invitation. I realized his question still needed an answer. “I want to talk to you, Stone, but I can’t right now. I need to get back up front in case Granny needs anything.

  “Could we talk after the reception? Maybe you could come over to my house?” I asked, desperately hoping that he would agree.

  “I’ll be there.”

  “Great.” A mixture of relief and fear flooded me. I was glad that he agreed to come over, but what if he was waiting to deliver bad news? What if he never wanted to see me again?

  I refused to dwell on it. Today was Granny’s wedding. “Why don’t you get some cake?”

  He straightened his silky, red tie. “I may in a few minutes. I’m not really hungry right now.”

  “Okay, well, I’m really glad you came.”