Six Years Gone (Gone #1)

by Jessica Gouin

  “Crikey, I was just trying to do something nice for you,” he says, in a hushed tone. “I didn’t think you would get your knickers in a knot for bringing your stuff back to you.”

  “See, right there is the issue! You say you brought my stuff back, like, no big deal, here’s a pen you left at my house, but, you didn’t just return my stuff, Lachlan. You drove my Jeep, you filled the tank, and you parked it in my driveway. You might as well have put a fucking bow on the hood of my own vehicle!”

  He opens his mouth to speak, but I stab my finger at his chest and keep talking. “Let’s get a few things straight here, Hugh Jackman. Number one, don’t talk about my knickers. Number two, don’t put your hands on me. And number three, don’t do me any favors. I’m giving you money for the gas. You’re going to take that money and you’re going to leave me alone. You and I are going to part ways like the unlikely mates we are. Understand?” Breathless, I turn and walk away without waiting for a response.

  “I don’t want your money, Sawyer,” he calls after me.

  I don’t turn around or acknowledge him in any way.

  Serves me wrong for thinking he was different from every other asshole I’ve ever met. Last night, I thought Lachlan was possibly a good guy. I thought maybe all these years I’ve seen him around school with his friends I misjudged him and he really was different from the rest of his friends. Now, I know all he wanted to do was to prove he’s better than me. I was his community service to make himself feel good.

  Well, I wasn’t put on this earth to be anyone’s charity case, and I sure as shit don’t need anything from the rich pricks.

  Some anger dissipates during morning classes, and I’m a lot calmer when I meet Sloane in the cafeteria for lunch. We sit at our usual table in the corner of the large area by the windows, and I start pulling the crust off of my peanut butter sandwich. As we wait for the rest of our friends, she tells me about the new salesman her dad hired.

  “He is drop-dead gorgeous and super young, too. I bet he’s the youngest salesman my dad has ever hired. I think he’s twenty-two or twenty-three, which is super odd for my dad to be hiring someone so young. I mean, he always—” She gazes past me, her head tilting to one side. “Why is the charmer-from-down-under staring at you?”

  I crook my neck to discover Lachlan, surrounded by his friends, drilling holes into me with his eyes. As I exhale, my annoyance spikes and transitions into frustration. “I can’t believe this shit. I stupidly accepted a ride home from him last night after the Jeep ran out of gas on Ashmore. I forgot my bag and the keys in his car. This morning, I went outside to find it parked in the driveway—tank full.”

  “Shut the front door,” she says, biting a fry. “I didn’t even know you knew him.”

  “I don’t know him, at all. We only met yesterday.”

  “Wow, Aussies move fast. Drew’s going to be crushed when he finds out your new boyfriend stole his dingo,” she states, between chews.

  “Sloane, I don’t even think you know what a dingo is. As far as Drew is concerned, he can go screw himself, and Lachlan is not my boyfriend.” I drop my sandwich and steal her fries.

  She reaches for my soda. “Well, buttercup, by the way he hasn’t looked away since we sat down, I’m not sure Lachlan thinks the same as you.” She smiles and wiggles her fingers to wave.

  I chuck a fry at her, and it leaves a few sprinkles of salt on the side of her head, which she brushes away laughing. “Stop it.”

  I take one last peek at Lachlan.

  He’s still staring.

  Chapter FOUR

  Lachlan

  I’ve been on the baseball team for all four years of high school. I never played back home in Australia, but Nathan convinced me to try out our freshman year. It was love at first pitch. I fell for the game during tryouts. The school’s pretty big on sports, and our team has been the champs every year I’ve been on it. We also have a killer workout room that’s open year round for the players of any sport. Optional, but strongly encouraged by the coaches.

  The very public conversation I had with Sawyer earlier loops in my mind, and a hard workout is exactly what I need to release this built-up tension.

  After my third set of reps on the bench, I place the barbell back onto the stand and sit up, squirting water into my mouth. While wiping the drips with the back of my hand, I notice Nathan rushing toward me. I can tell by the shit-eating grin he’s wearing word of what happened with Sawyer got around.

  Fuck, I didn’t want him knowing I went back to her last night and offered a ride home. I’m not going to deny it, but my plan of making her fall for me by bringing the Jeep back was an epic fail and I would rather forget the whole thing even happened.

  “What’s up, bro?” Nathan asks as he stands behind me, releasing my spotter with the lift of his chin.

  I lay back and glare up at him, waiting for the smart-ass remark I know is about to fly out of his mouth. “Nothing, mate. You were supposed to meet me here twenty minutes ago.” I pick up the bar and begin another set.

  “Yeah, sorry about that, I…got busy.” He pulls his bottom lip in, trying to mask a smirk.

  I let out little puffs of air, and it’s hard to tell if it’s from the exertion or my annoyance. “Spit it out, Nate. What’s so funny?”

  He shrugs as his smile falls from his face. “It’s actually not as funny as I thought it was. I don’t know what in the ever-loving fuck you were thinking getting involved with her. I had a feeling you were headed back to her when I dropped you off at your car, and I should have said something then. Just go be with Courtney, man. That chick has it bad for you. Why chase after Sawyer?”

  I’ve been asking myself the same question since I saw her walking home. I place the bar back once again with a little more force than intended, causing Nathan to step back as I stand. “I don’t see how any of this concerns you.”

  He glances around the room—mostly everyone is headed toward the field for practice. Nathan leans closer, lowering his voice. “Dude, what the hell has gotten into you?”

  “Nothing.” I grab the back of my neck in frustration. I’m not used to confrontation with anyone, especially my closest mate. Although we don’t always agree on the same issues, Nathan has always felt like a brother to me. This conversation is leading into more drama than I want to deal with. I don’t even know how to answer his question properly. The truth is I haven’t had a normal thought run through my mind since last night.

  Nathan strolls past me, toward the door, and claps my shoulder when he passes. “Forget it. It’s over anyway, right? There’s no point in arguing over it now. Let’s go play some ball. Your Catcher game gonna be strong today?”

  “I guess we’ll find out.” I toss the lift grips onto the bench seat and follow the guy who’s been my best friend for years. The guy who knows me better than anyone in the world. The guy who suddenly doesn’t know me at all.

  After practice, I’m completely beat and starving. The house smells of roasted chicken when I come home, and it’s a greeting I need after a day like today. I enter the kitchen, and Aunt Claire’s behind the island, chopping lettuce. Uncle Stanton’s next to her, dicing veggies and adding handfuls to the bowl resting between them.

  “Hi, sweetie, how was school today?” Aunt Claire questions automatically, the same way she has every day I’ve come home for the last four years, as she mixes the salad with big wooden spoons.

  “It was alright.”

  They simultaneously stop moving and look up at the same time. It’s unsettling, but I’ve gotten used to them being a little over-involved since I moved here. It was odd for me to go from one extreme to the other. The afterschool inquiries don’t bother me so much anymore, though.

  “Why don’t you wash up for dinner? It should be ready soon.”

  I nod to my uncle and make my way upstairs only to end up staring at my homework for an hour.

  When dinner’s over, Aunt Claire begins to clear the dishes from the table as usual. I s
tand to help as usual. Same dinner in the same house with the same people.

  “When you’re done cleaning, why don’t you come out to the garage for a minute? I want to show you something.” Uncle Stanton slaps my shoulder as he passes by.

  I place the last of the leftover chicken in a container, put it in the fridge then kiss my aunt’s cheek while she stands at the sink, washing the rest of the pans. “Thanks for dinner, Aunt. Delicious as always.”

  “You’re very welcome, my love. I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

  The garage is my uncle’s domain. Aunt Claire wouldn’t let him display any of his manly things in the house, so pretty well anything he owns is in here. Much to my surprise there’s something else taking up space when I open the door.

  “You like her?”

  I peel my gaze from my uncle’s new toy to look at him. His grin is enormous.

  “She’s a beaut, Uncle.”

  “1967 Buick Skylark. Black on black. Only 22,000 clicks on her. Your grandfather used to own one just like this. Gave it to me the day I got my license. Same car I used to drive your father around in before he was old enough to get his license. The two of us would ride around for hours. Cruising for girls.”

  Uncle’s eyes glisten as he stares at the car and walks down memory lane. It’s the same expression he has when he stares at my aunt when he thinks no one’s watching.

  “So this was your first car? Cool. Way nicer than my first car was.” My mind visits the memory of the beat-up car I chugged around in back home. “Are you going to restore it? Get rid of some of the rust spots?”

  “Good eye, kid. That’s the plan. Thought you might like to help me with some of the work. You know, when you’re not busy with school or the team.”

  My father moved to Australia when he was a few years older than I am to be a high school English teacher. My mother was also a teacher in the same school; hence how they met. The way she told her love story would leave tears in eyes and hope in hearts. They danced together when there was no music, held hands while grocery shopping, and laughed until sunrise. What they found in each other was the completion of themselves. It was real, strong, true love.

  The instant she was struck by that god-forsaken drunk driving asshole, our lives were destroyed. When she died six years ago, the biggest and best parts of my father went right along with her. He might as well have perished right next to her in that car. Since her funeral, he’s wanted nothing to do with me. I was no longer his twelve-year-old son. I was his burden. His daily reminder of what he lost and will never get back.

  What I lost in my parents six years ago, I didn’t think I would ever have again. Yet, my father’s older brother is staring at me like I’m his own son, asking me to restore his first car with him. I still have family.

  “That’d be fun, sure,” I choke out then clear my throat and pretend to be inspecting the vehicle’s paint more closely.

  “Good.” He takes two beers from the fridge, twists the cap off one and hands it to me. “Don’t tell your aunt or she won’t let you in here anymore.”

  I smile and accept the beer, knowing he’s aware I go to parties on the weekends and this isn’t my first beer. We both pretend it is, though, and I’m okay with that. We take silent sips, admiring the project in front of us. I can’t help being reminded of Sawyer when I look at this car—something so obviously beautiful, hidden by damage. I wonder if people can be fixed the way you can fix other things.

  “Uncle, can I ask you something?”

  “You can ask me anything, son.”

  I take a long pull at my beer, finishing the bottle, then pick at the label with my thumbnail. “Have you ever been scared by someone before? Like, scared of who they are?”

  His head cocks slightly to the side. “Is this about a girl?”

  I continue to pick at the label on the bottle instead of answering. I risk a peek at him, and he’s smiling.

  “Lachlan, you have never asked me for girl advice before. I was beginning to think you were an expert already.”

  I laugh out loud and set the bottle down. “Not just yet, I guess. This one is…different from the girls I’m used to.”

  “Well then, that explains it. The different girl. The one who scares the shit out of you. She’s the one who’s going to be worth the fight.”

  I can’t sleep. I couldn’t keep my eyes closed tonight if they were on fire, which they sort of feel like they are. I have an overwhelming urge to go to Sawyer’s house or call just to hear her voice.

  What the hell is happening? Since when does a girl consume every thought in my head?

  I reach for my cell on the nightstand, put my arm behind my head to prop it, and swipe the screen to unlock the phone.

  All social media pages have the same feeds they do every time I open the app, which is seldom. I scroll through to see if there’s anything about her. Of course there’s not. She’s like a cyber-ghost. She doesn’t exist is my world. She’s unknowingly created one all her own.

  I exit out of the app and open the picture gallery. There are not many photos. Mostly ones that someone else has taken using my phone. I’m not a memory-keeper sentimental type of guy. These same shots used to make me laugh and just annoy the hell out of me.

  I lock the phone, toss it toward the end of the bed, and close my eyes, praying for sleep to come for me, but knowing I’ll be spending the next few hours contemplating the meaning of my life.

  Chapter FIVE

  Sawyer

  It’s a funny thing what the sense of smell does. The memories it can trigger and the emotions it can pull out of someone. The scent of something specific can turn your stomach, make you hungry or sleepy. It can even bring you back to a haven or make you recoil as if your skin was on fire. It holds a power unlike anything else.

  Every time I come to work at the horse ranch, I enter the building, step onto the creaky wooden-plank floor, close my eyelids, and inhale. A mixture of hay, sweet feed, and leather swirl around me. As I near the stables, the fragrance shifts into manure and horses.

  I’m safe here.

  Getting busted a year ago wasn’t an achievement I’m necessarily proud of. Nevertheless, it was the best thing to have happen to me. It led me here, and here is home.

  Apart from shutting myself away in Sloane’s bedroom or the living room with Owen when Mom is out, the ranch is my safe haven. I can let my guard down within these walls and disappear from the whispers and stares of the outside world.

  It’s usually one of the few times I don’t feel the need to be high on something to make it through the next few hours of my life. I don’t like to think of myself as someone who’s dependent on pills or drugs. I can get through my days without the remoteness from the world they provide. Most of the time, I just prefer the escape.

  It started just about this time last year when I had my wisdom teeth removed. All four teeth were severely impacted, and the surgeon had to drill into my jawbone to remove them. The pain was so intense, and before I realized it, I’d taken nearly ninety Oxycodone’s in under two weeks.

  I started making regular trips to my doctor. I’d fake headaches and menstrual cramps. I even lied about a back injury once. I’d say anything I could think of to get my hands on the pills. When I ran out of excuses, and doctors, I turned to Drew. Selling me prescription pains meds is the only way he never lets me down.

  After an hour of my usual jobs around the ranch, I grab a bucket of supplies and head to Drake’s stall—my favorite part of my job. I lift the latch, pull the heavy wooden door open, and step inside with my horse. I suppose he’s not really mine in the sense I don’t actually financially own him, but he’s mine in every other sense. We have a mutual understanding—I groom and feed Drake while he patiently listens to me rant about my life. It’s the perfect relationship.

  And, it’s a good thing horses can’t talk.

  While I’m lost in thoughts spoken out loud and brushing my horse, Rose peeks her head into the stall.

 
“Hi, darlin, how are ya today?” She tucks her salt-and-pepper hair behind an ear as she comes in and claps Drake. With her predictable work attire, a dirty shirt, dirty jeans, and even dirtier boots, Rose is the other part of home for me.

  “Hi, Rose. I’m good. I’ve finished the rounds, and I’m just about done here.” My American Saddler neighs in response which makes me smile.

  Her warm stare shines in my direction. “He’s so handsome, ain’t he?”

  “He sure is. I was actually about to come and find you. I wanted to ask if there was any way I could pick up some extra hours during the week. I’m trying to save up as much money as I can right now. You know, college and all,” I fib. As if there’s even a possibility I could ever afford college, but seeing as how Rose is married to my arresting officer, it’s best she doesn’t know the real reason I need money, aside from paying Lachlan for the gas. I still can’t believe he thought he was being nice by doing that for me.

  After clapping Drake once more, she turns to face me. “You’re the most hardworking employee I have, Sawyer. The hours are yours whenever you need them.”

  While I work extra hours after school, Sloane spends her week taking care of a special mission for me. I need her to find out where Lachlan lives. The last thing I want is to draw attention at school since I caught the tail end of some interesting whispers roaming about us and why I got in his face the other day. Someone, and by someone I mean Courtney Flirt-with-every-guy-because-I’m-a-skank Harper, told some of the other seniors she saw the two of us in his car. Being the daughter of the town whore, I’m used to whispers about me bubbling to the surface, but if I can stop any new gossip from spreading, I would have less of a reason to hate school and everyone in it. I figured it would just be better to do this at his house.

  I’m relieved and exhausted when Friday decides to make its appearance. Since the very first day Sloane and I cashed our paychecks, we’ve held a small tradition—Friday dinners at Mile High, an amazing restaurant with heart-attack-inducing stacked burgers. We order our food and snag the last table on the patio. This place is always crazy busy.