She came home tonight and didn’t even look at the kitchen. Her soft-soled shoes muted the sound of her footfalls as she approached my room, but I heard her all the same. A second later, a quiet knock.
“I’m sleeping,” I tried.
It didn’t work. Mom barged in and flicked on the light, standing in the doorway with her hands on her hips.
“Why in the name of all that is mighty have you been—“
Her words died on her lips the moment she saw my face. The irritation creasing her brow fell away and turned into worry instead. Her green eyes, the exact same shade as my own, filled with warmth and compassion.
I was glad that I looked nothing like my dad. At least I didn’t think I did. I’d never seen a picture of him and never wanted to, but I saw so much of myself in my mom. Her hair was beginning to streak with gray, but it was the same messy color as mine. She kept it cut short, and on more than one occasion we’d walked into the kitchen in the morning with the same bedhead. She was tall too, nearly six feet, though I’d outgrown her in the past few years. I saw more of her in my face than I did strangeness and no person who looked at us would ever doubt that we were mother and child.
I took a lot of comfort in that. I know that the man who contributed the other fifty percent of my genes hurt her badly when he left and looking nothing like him made me feel like I wasn’t a part of that somehow. It was stupid, but I couldn’t help feeling it all the same. When she looked at me like this, however, I knew it wouldn’t matter if I were a carbon copy of my sire. She would love me just the same.
“What happened to your face?” Mom sat beside me on the bed and lifted a hand to the jagged cut on my lip.
I winced and looked away. “I wiped out on my bike. It’s not a big deal.”
“Not a big deal? Did you get this looked at? Why didn’t you tell me?”
When I didn’t answer quickly enough, she swooped in front of my face to catch my eyes. I knew with one look she’d see through my bullshit excuse. I was a horrible liar.
“What the hell happened, Shane? And tell me the truth this time.”
I pulled back from her but answered. “You know how I got kicked off the football team?”
“Yes,” she said in a flat tone. We still hadn’t discussed that in detail since she hadn’t had time, but she made it clear that the topic was still open.
“Well the guys didn’t think being kicked off was punishment enough. They had a few words with me at school the other day.”
“By words you mean fists?”
“Yes.”
Mom gritted her teeth and shot up from the bed. “Who was it? I’m calling the police right now.”
She was already storming toward the door, and I clambered after her.
“Mom!” I stomped into the kitchen, where I grabbed the phone from her hand. “I can deal with this on my own. It was Gromley and a few others, so trust me you do not want to get involved.”
Even my mom, who lived far enough away from Sitka Valley to hopefully never meet Preston Gromley, had heard the name and understood what it meant. Her jaw went slack, and I could see the outrage rippling behind her eyes. Just like me, Mom didn’t like being helpless. It was why she’d spent the last eighteen years of her life busting her ass every day to make sure she never had to rely on someone else. She was the first person who taught me that the most powerful thing you can be is independent.
After a second, Mom took a breath and held out her hand for the phone. “I don’t care. They could have killed you. I can’t just do nothing.”
“Mom, please.”
My mom loved helping people so much that she’d worked against the odds to make a career out of it. Seeing her only son so battered and unable to do anything to help him was killing her, but she knew she was stuck. This was why I didn’t want her to find out in the first place. Mom gritted her teeth and lowered the phone to the counter.
“At least let me have a look at you,” she said with a sigh. “Hopefully your dumb ass doesn’t already have an infection. Come on. Sit.”
She patted one of the kitchen chairs and I sat down, doing my best to stay still as she poked and prodded my bruises and cuts. She examined the ones on my torso next. We were both silent until she grabbed the cream and started dabbing it on some of the cuts.
“You should have told me,” she said.
“I didn’t want you to worry.”
She replied with a bitter smile. “I always worry about you when I don’t see you for a few days. This just gives me more reason to in the future.”
“What are you going to do when I move out?” I joked.
She chuckled. “Like I’m ever letting you leave if you keep getting into scraps like this. It would be irresponsible of me as a nurse.”
We fell silent again, and she finished up, sitting back to do one final once over. Satisfied that nothing was going septic, she set the first aid kit on the table and leaned back in her chair.
“So what else is bothering you?”
Like I said, a basset hound.
It wasn’t worth trying to lie to her.
I sighed. “There’s a girl.”
Mom’s eyes lit up and her hard line of a mouth curved with interest. “Isn’t there always? What’s her name.”
“Dallas.”
Mom nodded her head approvingly. “Pretty name. What’s she like?”
“Kind, gentle, sweet,” I said. “She’s got this ferociousness inside of her that shines through sometimes, even though for the most part she’s good. Really good.” I sighed. “Too good for me.”
Mom’s expression deepened into a scowl. “Too good for you? What on Earth would make you say that?”
“Oh, come on.” I sent her a flat look. “You know what I mean.”
“I don’t think I do.”
Was she going to make me say it? My mom was savage.
“Look at where we live, Mom.” I gestured demonstratively to the aging wallpaper and tired furniture of our home. “All signs point to me going nowhere in life. I’ve never done anything that would make me worthy of her. I probably never will.”
Mom’s eyebrows raised and she almost seemed to consider what I said for a moment, like she was close to coming around to my side.
Then she let me have it.
“You’re a bloody fool if you think that. Shane Kelly, what the hell would your poor grandmother think if she heard you talking like this? She came to this country with practically nothing because she believed that here it was possible to become anything. She worked her ass off for years and married a man who she didn’t love so that she could afford to have your aunt and me. Even as she lay dying, poor but happy, she still believed that her children and their children were going to have a better shot at life here than they would have in Ireland. Do you know what she would tell you if she were here?”
I swallowed and had the wherewithal to adopt a sheepish expression. “What would she tell me?”
Mom put on a thick Irish accent, sufficiently gravelly to imitate my gran’s croaky voice. “Good things in life come to those who take chances and don’t have their heads shoved up their arse.”
She delivered the line with such straight-laced sentiment that I couldn’t help but break down into raucous laughter. Mom’s mouth curved into a self-satisfied smirk.
“Now, my love, is there anything else I can sort out for you before I crawl off to bed? I’m exhausted.”
I felt bad for keeping her awake as long as I had and shook my head. “No, go get some sleep. I’m going to go out for a little ride.”
“Don’t you think it’s a little late?”
I winked. “Good things come to those who take chances.”
Mom rolled her eyes. “Be safe, or I’ll kick your ass.”
“I know you will.”
I waved Mom off to bed and grabbed my helmet from where it hung next to the front door.
My bruises made the ride a little painful at times, but it was worth it to get on my bike and
drive out into the dark. There were few cars on the road, few competitors for asphalt as I cruised onto the highway and back toward Sitka Valley. I saw the whole world in the endless black of the night. A world of possibilities. A world of danger, too.
I pulled over almost halfway between Sitka Valley and home, leaving my bike in a ditch next to some ferns.
The walk was so familiar that I could have done it in complete darkness, but I wasn’t a total idiot. I used the flashlight on my keys to navigate over roots and around corners, only clicking it off once I’d reached the solitude of my meadow sanctuary.
It had always been a private place before I brought Dallas there. She was the first, and probably the last, who I’d share my haven with. It was made better for her having been there, and I wouldn’t want to tarnish that.
I stretched out in the grass with my arms above my head. The stars winked against a backdrop of obsidian, so bright that I could see the swirling Orion nebula and the faintest sprinkling of other galaxies, like scattered icing sugar.
I thought about what my mom said. What my grandmother would have said. And I thought about what I wanted.
I wanted Dallas with every fiber of my being, and if having her meant taking a chance not only on rejection but on finding myself unworthy, that was something I was just going to have to do.
Wes was a problem too, but not as big of one as he believed himself to be. I could take Wes. I could take his whole stupid crew if I had to, and would if it meant keeping them away from Dallas. I might not be worthy of Dallas in many ways, but Wes would be an outright poison to her. I had to protect her from him.
The wind whispered through the grass. The night was still.
I was going to ask Dallas to prom. If she rejected me, she rejected me. The kind of chance my grandmother took to give me a better life helped put things in perspective. When you looked at it like that, asking a girl out wasn’t that big of a deal—even if she was the most beautiful girl in the world.
Chapter 10
Dallas
“Dallas! Wake up!”
Someone shook me. My dad, I realized. I groaned and batted my hand toward the sound of his voice. “Five minutes.”
It felt early, way too early to be getting up for school. My dad had officially lost his marbles. I could practically hear them rolling around our house.
“No, Dallas. You have to get up now. We have to leave.”
Leave?
I cracked open an eye, momentarily blinded by my bedroom light. Dad was bent over me, his face tight with worry. What was his problem? Had I heard him correctly?
“Pack a bag and meet me at the front door in five minutes. Okay?”
“Why?”
He shook his head. “I don’t have time. I’ll explain everything later, I promise. For now, I need you to do as I say.”
I’d never seen him look so stressed. It verged on scared, which concerned me even more.
That was what ultimately compelled me out of bed in the end, adrenaline snaking through my veins and forcing my eyes open. Dad hurried out of my room, and I heard him banging things around, presumably finishing his packing. I tried not to dwell on the fear that threatened to choke me and started hurriedly filling my backpack.
What was going on? According to my phone, it was three in the morning. I had school tomorrow. Were we leaving the house for a few hours? A few days? Or longer?
I had too many questions to try to answer even one of them and chose to ignore them all instead. Dad told me he would tell me soon what the deal was. I just had to trust him.
Five minutes later, I was at the front door. Dad let us out without a word, passing me a helmet and shoving one on his head. I followed his lead and got on his bike behind him, glad that I’d chosen to double up my layers since there was a thin film of rain falling from the sky. Dad kick-started the bike, and we rumbled out of the driveway. He turned toward the highway.
I wished we were in a car so I could start questioning him now. I wished we didn’t have to leave at all, but he must have had a good reason, right? I hadn’t seen him all evening, not since he left around six to “take care of some things”. It was unusual for my dad to be out so late but unusual was the name of the game with him these days. I hadn’t thought much of it. Now a bevy of possibilities swarmed my head. Did his absence this evening have something to do with our sudden flight? It had to. So where had he been?
The bike picked up speed when we reached the highway. The road was desolate, stretching far into the distance and toward our uncertain destination. I’d never been more confused in my life.
Sirens started screaming from behind us, and the mirrors reflected back flashing red and blue lights. I didn’t think we were speeding. Did Dad have a taillight out or something?
I felt his shoulders stiffen at the sirens, but he started to pull over. When he killed the engine, I could hear him swearing under his breath.
“Relax,” I said, pulling off my helmet. “It’s probably just a misunderstanding.”
Dad pulled off his helmet too. “I don’t think so, pumpkin. I’m so sorry.”
I looked back and saw the cops getting out of their car. One of them turned on a flashlight and pointed it at us, and their feet crunched against the gravel as they approached.
It all fell into place. We were on the run from the police. What could Dad have possibly done that necessitated us going on the lam from the law? He would never hurt anybody, and I couldn’t see him stealing anything or committing a similar crime either.
“Good evening, Mr. Keane,” said the officer with the flashlight. He stood just in front of my dad, while the other hung back somewhere behind me. I got the feeling it was in case one of us decided to run.
“Is there a problem, officer?” Dad asked.
The officer, a pudgy middle-aged man with a greying mustache and a fat red nose, smiled. “I think you know that there is. You wouldn’t be trying to leave Sitka Valley, would you?”
Dad was quiet. I didn’t know why he wasn’t answering, so I piped up instead.
“We were just going out to get some food,” I replied. “Neither of us could sleep.”
He didn’t believe me, that much I could tell. He didn’t call me out on it either, though.
“I think it would be wise for you to turn back,” he said, addressing my father. “You don’t want Gromley to get the wrong idea. He’s not a man you want to mess with.”
Gromley? As in Preston Gromley? What did he have to do with this?
“I know,” my dad said, sounding more defeated than I’d ever heard him. “We’ll go home.”
“Jolly good. We’ll escort you.”
“I don’t think that’s necessary,” I replied. “We know the way back just fine.”
“All the same.” The officer clicked off his flashlight, leaving me temporarily blinded as my eyes struggled to adjust to the low light. “It’s late, and we wouldn’t want anything to happen to you. Gromley would be very disappointed if you disappeared.”
He started to walk back to his car, leaving no room for further complaint. I tried to catch my dad’s eye in the mirror, but he seemed determined not to look at me.
“Dad? What’s going on?”
“Let’s get going, Mr. Keane,” called the officer from his car. A second later I heard both doors slam shut and the engine came to life.
Dad shoved his helmet back on his head. I was going to have to wait a little longer for my answers. The confused thoughts rattling around my brain became more insistent, more angry. If those cops weren’t going to arrest us, why did we still have to do what they said? Since when did the police work for Gromley? Perhaps he held more sway in the community than I’d anticipated. It was a sobering thought.
Dad started the engine and turned back the way we came.
I remembered something Wes had said, about how my dad and I would be unwise to refuse a Gromley request, and I felt my skin turn cold. Did that have something to do with this? It must have. It killed me th
at I had to wait to learn how all these events were connected.
The police followed us the whole way home. They left their lights off, at least, but I still felt like we were being paraded through town in shame. Good thing it was so late. Then again, maybe if someone did see us, they would know how fucked up this all was.
They stopped outside our driveway, watching with the engine running as we parked the bike and retreated inside the house. I turned back to look at them before entering. The one we talked to had the audacity to smile and wave. I had to get inside before I flipped him the bird or something else unwise. The situation was bad enough as it was without me making it any worse.
I slammed the door. “What the hell is going on?” I demanded of my father, who was dragging his feet toward the living room.
He glanced back at me. “Come sit down.”
I followed, and we sat on opposite ends of the couch. I twisted around to watch him. Dad kept his head low, taking shaking breaths that I knew would soon turn into tears. My heart broke, even as my anxiety had driven me to anger at anyone and everything.
“Dad.” I tried to speak gently.
He flinched like I’d thrown a knife at him.
“I’m so sorry, baby,” he croaked. “I am so fucking sorry.”
“Dad, what is it? Why did those police officers stop us from leaving? Why were we leaving in the first place?”
He looked up finally, eyes rimmed with red. I couldn’t stand to see my dad cry. I hugged my knees up to my chest and rested the side of my head against the back cushions, trying not to break down into tears myself.
“After your mother died, the business took a hit,” he said. “I didn’t know what to do...I—I couldn’t stand to see the business go under. What would happen to you if it did?”
The business had only suffered because he turned into a shell of a person for several weeks. Even after he came out of it, he wasn’t the same. The business came back to life, sure, but my dad didn’t.
“The bank wouldn’t give me a loan, and then someone told me to ask Preston Gromley. So I did, and he helped me. He gave me the money I needed to get back on even footing.”
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