Turning Home (A Small Town Novel)

by Stephanie Nelson

  “No can do, Ruby,” I said, still keeping eye contact with Brooke. “I’ll be busy with my girlfriend all weekend.” I smirked at Brooke, and she smiled back, shaking her head. This girlfriend thing wasn’t as much of a downer as I used to think. When the term referred to Brooke Kingsley, it was downright empowering. She was mine, every delectable inch of her.

  “Girlfriend?” Ruby asked, standing up straight. Her eyes cut to Brooke and then back to my face. “You and her?”

  I didn’t miss the hurt in her voice, and I was surprised it actually bothered me. Out of all the girls I hooked up with, Ruby was by far the best of them. She knew it was casual between us, but I’d also caught her hinting at wanting a relationship. I’d never been ready for one, never even thought about settling down with one girl. Until now. Seeing the hurt on Ruby’s face made me realize that she might think I was here to rub my new relationship in her face.

  Without taking our orders, Ruby stalked off. I watched her move across the diner, pushing through the doors that led to the kitchen. I’d have to talk to her, make her understand that if I could have loved her the way she wanted, I would have.

  “Old girlfriend of yours?”

  I brought my attention back to Brooke. She didn’t look upset or even jealous, and I wasn’t sure if that was because she trusted me, or she expected it.

  “Other than you,” I said, reaching across the table to take her hand. “I haven’t had a girlfriend since junior year of high school, and that only lasted two weeks.”

  She smiled with thin lips but didn’t say anything, instead looking down at the menu. Releasing her hand, I sat back and watched her from across the table.

  “Who was he?” I finally asked.

  She lifted her head, her eyebrows drawing together. “He who?”

  I leaned forward and kept my voice low. “The other guy you slept with. Was he your boyfriend?” I hadn’t meant to ask her about him, but as I watched her, I thought about what it would be like if we ran into one of her exes. How would I feel to look into the eyes of a man who’d experienced what I had with her? Just the thought of another man’s hands on her made me twitchy. In no way did I have room to talk, but I couldn’t stop my mind from thinking about it.

  “We dated for a couple weeks,” she replied, sitting back.

  “Why did you guys break up?”

  She nibbled on her upper lip for a moment. “It didn’t feel right.”

  I grinned. “Then he was doing something wrong.”

  “That’s not what I meant.” Brooke laughed under her breath. “He’s a nice guy, but there was something missing. Maybe I just compared him to you too much, and in the end he didn’t measure up.” She glanced away as though embarrassed by her admission.

  “Hey, Dylan. What can I get you guys?”

  A new waitress, a woman I thought was named Diane, looked down at us. Fine lines fanned out from her hazel eyes, deepening when she smiled.

  “I’ll have the double cheeseburger basket with a Dr. Pepper,” I told her. She scribbled my order down, and looked over at Brooke. Her smile vanished, but there weren’t any signs of distaste. If I didn’t know better, I’d say she looked … pitying. My eyes scanned the diner and found a teary-eyed Ruby refilling salt and pepper shakers. Was that why Diane looked like she felt sorry for Brooke—because she thought eventually she would end up in tears over a guy like me? I’d never thought about my actions before. Girls knew what kind of person I was, that I didn’t settle down or profess love. I was never outright mean to them, but I also didn’t feed them flowery bullshit either. Why did women fight so hard to be with someone so unattainable? It never made sense to me, but I was positive it was the reason why they flocked to me. Sure, I was good looking, but what really attracted these girls to my bed was the fact that they thought they could change me, and all of them had failed—until Brooke.

  “I’ll have the same,” Brooke said, surprising me, “but I’ll have a Diet Coke with mine.”

  I grinned, loving the irony that she was about to consume hundreds of calories and wash it down with a diet soda. I loved that she hadn’t ordered a salad, trying to impress me with her eating habits. Guys don’t care about that shit like women think they did. When they ordered dainty meals it was to please their own sense of approval, not ours.

  After Diane left, I leaned back in the booth and just stared at Brooke. Tonight had been amazing. When I saw her standing in my garage, looking like an angel among the grease and dirty car parts, I’d about passed out. Since seeing her at the school, I hadn’t been able to get those blue eyes out of my head. I loved that she was home after being gone for so long, but I hated the circumstances of her visit.

  “How long do the doctors think your mama’s gonna be in the hospital?” I asked, hoping she’d open up and talk to me about it now.

  Some of the light in her eyes faded. “They’re not sure. She banged her head pretty hard and is now in the coma.” Her voice trailed off, and she looked away to shield the pain on her face from me.

  “I hadn’t heard,” I said softly. “I’m sorry, Brooke.”

  “Do you ever feel like you could have changed the past had you done just one thing differently?”

  I thought back to that day I found my mother lifeless and bloody. So many times I’d seen her angry and depressed that I became used to it. After her death, I had thought of what I could have done to help her.

  “Guilt is natural in these kinds of situations,” I told her, reaching for her hand. “Letting it eat you up isn’t going to help anyone. Be thankful she’s still alive, and you have a chance to make those changes now.”

  She nodded, a tear slipping down her cheek. Embarrassed, she looked away from me again as she wiped the drop away. Like most guys, I’d always been uncomfortable when women cried, but seeing this particular girl in tears upset me. This was a pain I couldn’t take away from her, and that crushed me.

  “I’m sorry,” she said with a nervous laugh. “I never used to cry, and now that I’ve started, it seems the tears don’t want to stop. I should probably just go home. I’m not going to be fun company for the rest of the night.”

  “You’re staying with me tonight,” I told, rather than asked, her. “I’m new to this boyfriend stuff, but I’m pretty sure I’m supposed to hold you when you’re upset.”

  She blinked back more tears, her eyes widening. “Okay,” she whispered. “I promise to get myself under control. I’m better when I’m not thinking about her.”

  “You don’t have to hide yourself with me, Brooke. If you want to cry and get it out, cry. If you don’t want to think about it, I’ll do everything in my power to occupy your mind.”

  She smiled, sniffling. “You’re too sweet, Dylan Crawford.”

  I’d never been considered sweet, but I knew I wanted to be when it came to this girl. I had a feeling she hadn’t experienced that side of a man yet, and I relished being her first for that, too.

  After eating, I followed Dylan back to his place. As I drove, I gave myself a pep talk about my embarrassment over the scene at the diner. Dylan had handled my tears better than my own father. When I arrived at home yesterday, and he’d told me the whole story about my mother, I instantly cried. My father, being the detached man that he was, reminded me of our family motto: Kingsleys don’t show weakness, even in times of despair. The vision of my mother in tears all the time filled my head. How could he ignore those tears and criticize mine?

  “I know this is upsetting,” he had said, resting a hand on my shoulder in a form of support, “but crying for her isn’t going to change anything. Stay strong, Brooke.”

  After that, every time I felt my eyes prickle with unshed tears I retreated to my bedroom. If ever there was a reason for me to show weakness, it was now.

  I parked next to Dylan’s truck, shutting my car off. Taking a deep breath, I stepped out and retrieved my purse. When I turned around, Dylan was right behind me. I didn’t think I would ever get used to how unbelievably beauti
ful he was. There wasn’t a thing about him that I would change. Well, not on the outside anyway. A part of me hated how almost every girl in Roseville had been with him. It made me jealous to think they shared the intimacy I did with him. Still, it wasn’t enough to sway me from wanting to be with him. He’d done more than enough to prove he wanted to be with only me, and that was enough. Holding his indiscretions against him now wouldn’t be fair. I couldn’t want to be with the man and not accept his past. If I let the thought of him with multiple other women eat at me, our relationship wasn’t going to last, and I desperately wanted it to. Whatever was between us, it was intense, honest, and addicting.

  Dylan skimmed his fingers down my arm until he reached my hand. Intertwining our fingers, he nodded toward his apartment.

  “Come on.”

  After he unlocked his door, he shuffled inside and pulled me in behind him. The apartment was dark, no sounds of giggling girls this time. I wondered if Jase had taken the girl to her place or if they were sleeping it off in his room. For some reason I didn’t want Dylan to know what Jase had told me. I didn’t want him to think the only reason I’d come to the garage tonight was because his best friend had made me feel guilty. Or maybe I didn’t want to embarrass him and see his pride wounded.

  As Dylan messed around in the kitchen, I stood in the living room and remembered the last time I’d been here. It seemed like ages ago, but the memory was as though it was yesterday. Dylan had given me my first orgasm not ten feet away. I remembered how nervous I’d been, yet anxious to feel his hands on my body and how gentle he’d been with me. I smiled as I remembered how many times he’d told me we could wait, his confirmation that I didn’t need to have sex with him to keep his interest. My body was on fire, in need of something I was naïve to but craving. I’d been so innocent in the ways of intimacy back then, but so eager for it with Dylan.

  “Ready?”

  I refocused on the present and found Dylan watching me. I was sure that a man in a five thousand dollar suit would not look better than Dylan in his worn jeans, stained t-shirt, and work boots. There was something so comforting about his modesty. It allowed me to breathe and took my breath away at the same time.

  “What’s going through that pretty head of yours?” Dylan asked, coming to me. He enfolded me in his arms, leaning back to look at my face. Even now, I couldn’t wrap my head around the fact that he’d asked to date exclusively, and how he had done it. My heart battled over being elated about our status and hurting for my mom. Every time I felt the slightest bit of happiness about Dylan and me, guilt would ride in and squash the emotion flat.

  “I’m just happy,” I told him with a small smile. “I thought about you a lot when I was away.” I looked up and into his eyes. “The only reason I told you that we shouldn’t stay in touch was because I thought you’d treat it as a causal relationship, and I knew how far gone I already was for you. If we talked all the time, I would have fallen all the way, and I wouldn’t be able to handle being the only one. I didn’t think you would ever want something serious.”

  Dylan didn’t say anything for a long time. He just held me, staring into my eyes as though he was content to stay forever where he was.

  “Promise me something,” he said finally.

  “Okay,” I said, unsure. I wasn’t big on making promises, mainly because I felt the need to keep them once my word was given.

  “Let’s not assume stuff anymore, okay? I mean … the reason I never pursued you in high school was that I assumed a girl like you would never go for a guy like me. You may have thought I was cute,” his smiled turned playful, “but I never thought you saw me as a potential boyfriend. Then, when you were leaving, you assumed you had to give me an easy out. Had we just said what we were thinking, we could have saved ourselves a lot of trouble. I will only ever be honest with you, Brooke. Can you do the same?”

  Is this boy ever going to cease to amaze me? I nodded and leaned in to kiss him. Wrapping my arms around his neck, I squeezed my body to his and devoured the sensation of his tongue slipping between my lips. His kiss sparked tingles through my entire body, awakening my constant desire for him.

  I love you, my inner voice whispered. The silent confession brought me up short. Was this what love felt like? Did I actually love him, or was I just so enamored with him that my brain was tricked into believing it was in love. I decided to keep those three little words trapped inside my head until I was absolutely sure. Dylan had taken a big step in asking me to be his girlfriend. If I confessed I loved him this soon, it might scare him off.

  We retreated to Dylan’s room a few minutes later. I took in all the clothes on the floor, a glass on his dresser, and a pizza box in the corner of the room. The last time I’d been here it had been almost spotless. My eyes scanned for the guitar I’d seen before, but it was either missing or lost amongst the pile of dirty clothes.

  “Sorry for the mess,” Dylan said, looking almost embarrassed. “I didn’t expect to have anyone over.”

  “Does that mean you expected company the first time I was in here?” I asked him with a challenging stare.

  He laughed under his breath. “No, I normally keep it clean. I just … have been in a shitty mood lately.”

  Was he saying his mood was a result of missing me, or was there something else going on in his life that was stressing him out? It seemed narcissistic to think it had anything to do with me.

  “We can talk about it if you want, and I’ll help you clean,” I offered, remembering how sweet he’d been at the diner.

  Dylan was already bending over and picking up clothes, shoving them into a hamper in the corner of the room. As I watched him, I realized how tired he looked. I wasn’t used to men coming home exhausted. My daddy always came home just as clean and polished as when he left for work. There was something incredibly sexy about Dylan’s disheveled look.

  Coming to stand in front of him, I curled my hand around his neck and pulled him down for a kiss. He was a good five inches taller than me, and lifted me up to make us more accessible to each other’s mouths. He had a way of making me feel small and protected when he held me like this. I loved the way our bodies felt against each other, how the beating of our hearts was in tune with one another’s, speeding up in reaction. All the prettiest words in the world couldn’t compare to that sort of confirmation.

  Resting our foreheads together, I whispered, “Forget about the mess. Why don’t you go get a shower? It’s late, and I know you’re tired.”

  A small smile spread across his mouth. “Are you trying to get me naked?”

  Though I hadn’t been trying to be suggestive, the thought of a naked Dylan warmed me to my core. I was wholly addicted to this boy. Everything about him did something for me, from the raspy tone his voice took on when he spoke of naughty things, to his strong arms wrapped around my body. Even the scent of grease on his hands stirred my attraction to the man who Dylan was. He was everything my world snubbed their noses at and everything I’d always coveted.

  “While the imagery is … enticing,” I said against his mouth, “I really was just trying to be nice. Your room doesn’t need to be spotless for me to want to be in it.”

  “Your niceness produced some pretty enticing imagery in my head, too,” Dylan said, placing a kiss to my throat. Whispering against my neck, he said, “I’ll take a shower, but you’re joining me.”

  * * * *

  A nightmare woke me up later that night. I sat up, fighting to catch my breath, and realized I wasn’t at home. Dylan slept beside me on his back, his arms tucked underneath his pillow. Swinging my legs over the bed, I gripped the mattress in both hands and tried to shake off the effects of my dream about my mother.

  I found her crying on the stairs, her wheat-colored hair concealing her face.

  “Mama,” I said, taking a cautious step toward her. “Mama, what’s wrong?”

  She continued to cry, her sorrowful sobs haunting the house. The next thing I knew I was standing on the sid
e of a country road. I saw Mother’s silver Lexus coming down the road, swerving across the white line. As I watched in horror, I tried to scream, but no sound came out of my mouth. Tires squealed as she crashed into the base of a tall oak tree. The sound of metal crushing in on itself chilled me. I screamed harder, my vocal chords burning with the strain. Still, no sound came from between my lips. Smoke rose from the crumbled hood, curling up into the night like a phantom.

  Heart racing, I ran across the street to the horrific scene before me. My hands shook, my legs heavy with despair. I wobbled closer, reaching out and then pulling my hand back. I could see my mother’s limp body in the driver’s seat, her head resting against the cracked window. Blood seeped out of her temple and trickled down the side of her face.

  “Mama,” I said, my voice returning to me. I reached for the door handle and found it locked. Fighting against it, I pulled harder. “Mama … hold on.” I tried the other three doors and found them locked as well. Just as I was about to punch the window to get inside, a photograph stopped my assault. Ignoring the blood-smeared part of the glass, I moved my face closer to get a better look. A black and white sonogram picture was clasped between her fingers, half bent from her grip. Something about it unsettled me, but I couldn’t pinpoint why. Sirens pierced through the fog clouding my head, and then I woke up.

  I rested my elbows on my bent knees and scrubbed my hands over my face, confused by the bizarre dream. I understood why I would dream about the crash, but what was up with the sonogram picture? As far as I knew, my mother was not pregnant. I tried to chalk the dream up to stress and lay back down. As I waited for sleep to come, a gnawing sensation told me that something was very, very wrong.