“I should have seen that coming. Walked right into it.” Jacob threw his hands up. Then lowered his head to Alyssa's height and looked her in the eye. “You're right. You are absolutely right.”
“Damn straight I am. You be supportive. I am talking to Vincent on Monday, and he'll ask her out, and before you know it they'll have little tattooed kids running around.”
“Tattooed kids?” I asked because I couldn't help it. The idea was too funny.
“He can't have plain ol' regular kids.” She deadpanned, and I couldn't decide how serious she was being about the matter. It served to let us all laugh, to pull me into the mix.
“Good, you're still here.” Dominic approached. How had I forgotten he was still in Prissy Polly's? “Maggie, can I take you home?”
His face was beautiful and dangerous. Tinged with worry and more than a little bit of regret. Seeing it there, my own humiliation reflected in his expression - and that's what I had decided the drive by kiss had been - hit me hard. My head ached behind my eyes, my throat wanted to collapse and choke me, my fingers curled in so that my nails bit my palms. An overreaction that I struggled to contain, to cover with a blank look.
“Uh.”
“Yes. Of course you can.” Alyssa pushed me, literally with her hands shoved me into Dominic. “She'd love a ride home. Come on, Jacob baby, let's go.”
“Are you leaving me here?” What in the hell was happening? Alyssa dragged Jacob away and they got into their car in record speed.
“I'm not abandoning you. Dominic is here with you!” She called out her last words before slamming the door.
In their impending absence, I looked up at Dominic. He stood with practiced calm, obviously trying to be approachable, not that he had to try very hard. I would swear he was regarding me with pity, like he felt sorry for me. Shame burned in my veins, hissing through my body.
I sighed and pulled my lips into something close to a smile.
Dominic pointed toward his truck and I followed after him. He opened the door and gave me a hand up, which turned out was necessary because you had to be six feet something to step into the damn thing. A behemoth black Ford, jacked up with rugged tires, sides splattered with dried mud from some past adventure. Stupid raised up high monster truck.
I had a few seconds alone in the cab as Dominic walked around to his door. It smelled like mint and stale French fries. It was a mess, stuff everywhere, but it was too dark to inspect. I smiled, to find myself in this personal space, shrouded in darkness that helped me pretend I could hide, and I relaxed slightly. This was Dominic MacKenna. He was friendly. Nice. A charming flirt that smart girls everywhere knew better than to fall for. Not scary.
“I'm sorry about Cotton. He's a jerk.”
I fiddled with the hem of my cut off shorts, thick threads tugged between my fingers ripping free without effort. Sorry about Cotton. My chest squeezed tight for a beat, before I shoved that pain away.
“You don't have to apologize for him.”
He backed out of the parking spot and angled toward the main road. A classic rock station played in the background and I liked that it wasn't bluegrass or country. The night grew darker, the threat of rain becoming a promise, hot and heavy, biding its time.
“I don't have to apologize because I am not responsible for what he did? Or because he didn't do anything that needs apologizing?”
Then he didn't know the details? I turned to observe him, his profile gray against the night, barely lit by the dash and radio of his truck. Strong. Sure. Sorry. A long sigh escaped my nose.
“I think that's the longest sentence you've ever said to me. I guess it was a question, not a sentence. You know what I mean.”
I heard his breath release in a huff of soft laughter. Not too put off by my rambling. He drove toward town and we bumped along in his ancient model truck.
“Yeah. That's probably true. But you didn't answer me.”
“Both.” I cleared my throat. Our town blurred outside the windows and I pretended I wasn't nervous enough to hurl in his messy truck cab. “You certainly don't need to apologize for anything Cotton does, in general. I learned pretty early on that it was a waste to try and apologize for another person's actions.”
The truth of my brother settled there in the cab with us. As soon as the words were out, the implication clear, I wished I could take it back. I was always saying the wrong thing. My next breath was shaky as I pulled it in and Dominic turned to look at me for a second. His light eyes white in the darkness, his teeth a ghost's smile.
“He wouldn't say what happened when I talked to him. He was plenty riled up though. Which tells me he did something stupid.”
Kissing me was stupid. Yep. Without meaning to, I brought my fingertips to my lips. My lips that still burned with the aftermath of having been kissed so thoroughly. My lips that I pretended still tasted like Cotton.
“I'm not very good at ...” I passed my hand in the space between Dominic and me. “I'm awkward and I always say the wrong thing. I don't know what I'm doing.”
Dominic was quiet for a minute. Lost in his thoughts and holding onto some residual upset from the mess Cotton had made with me. Dominic's knuckles were white from how tight he held onto the steering wheel, as I waited him out. He turned off the main road and toward my mama's house, weaving through the quiet suburban roads.
The silence felt like a real thing, something swimming in the air that I could grab at and come away with evidence in my hands. It pressed on my ears along with the rumble of the truck engine and the familiar melody of a seventies rock song. The silence between us won out over the truck and music as dominant. I could only focus on how many seconds passed without either of us breaking the silence.
We rode that way until Dominic pulled into the driveway of my mama's house and shifted the truck into park. It idled in a way that shook the truck and my resolve.
“Dominic.” I tried to speak over the sound of the silence and the engine to be heard. “Alyssa thinks I should go out with ... well, go out on dates, and I don't know how.”
Of all the stupid words to fall out of my mouth, those were the ones I said to Dominic MacKenna. My lungs failed to hold onto the air I sucked in and I was struck with a need to run away. But Dominic sat there, calm and thoughtful, hands falling away from the steering wheel to rest in his lap. Why had I told him about my dating issues?
My dating experience was pathetic. A few guys that had asked me out over the course of many years, none of which blossomed into something more than an awkward first date. Stilted conversations, sweaty palms, cumbersome shared meals.
None of the guys was ever good enough according to my mama, which never helped set me at ease in getting to know a person. After a particularly tense date with a man that had insulted my wild curly hair and had talked only of himself for a solid two hours, home and washing the light makeup from my face, Mama had admitted that she was worried I'd leave her. I could still recall with vivid accuracy the panic in her voice that had pulled my gaze to her face, wide eyes and wobbly chin indicative of her deep rooted fear coming loose at the ends. She was debilitated at times by her own worries, one of which was my moving away from home and leaving her alone. It had been nothing to assure her then and there that I wasn't going anywhere any time soon. I distracted her, pulling her mood up by telling her the horrors of the date.
Alyssa had set me up a couple times, urging me to get out, and encouraging me to be more open. Despite her best intentions, when it came down to it, I was lost when it came to knowing what to do or say on a date. Or with men in general. If I were to dissect the reasons, I'd be left with pulpy mess of childhood trauma involving my absentee father, my abusive brother, and a generalized fear and distrust of men. I preferred not to look at it so closely.
Now, with Vincent Berry as a possible option, I was struck with debilitating nerves.
“What are you asking me, Maggie?” He turned to face me, shifting so that his back was toward his door.
What was I asking him? God, I wasn't sure.
“You're good at dating.”
He laughed, and it was a sweet good-natured thing. I smiled a little and looked up at his face. He smiled back at me, with soft eyes and a sweet expression on his handsome face. I was aware I had not asked him a question at all, yet he had gussied it out.
“I am.” Dominic nodded, sure of his skills in that arena. He was the type that was sure of everything he did. Maybe because he was good at everything he did. I couldn't remember him ever failing. “But it's not because I learned how. It comes natural to me. But look at Denver, or even Cotton. Neither of them is a lick of good at dating.”
People were different. Denver was too wrapped up in his own stuff, playing music and touring. He had been with a few women, discreetly, and with no strings attached. Cotton could have his pick, much like his brothers, with plenty of women interested in him. But he was too serious to date casually. He held himself apart, watching, quiet, too reserved. Like me but with more brooding and darkness.
“So it's not genetic?” I went for the joke.
He laughed again and agreed with me. Neither of us mentioned Cotton, not willing to bring him up again.
“Alyssa thinks I should go out with Vincent Berry.”
Dominic nodded his head, a smile still present on his lips.
“Do you want to go out with Berry?”
If he was frustrated talking to me, he was doing a good job hiding it. I was still being awkward, but I wasn't in a state of panic. The reality of that hit me hard, knocking some of the wind from me. He was right there, all huge and marvelously good looking, and we were talking - and I wasn't freaking out. I mean, I was freaking out about not freaking out. But I wasn't freaking out about Dom. He didn't scare me. Huh.
“Sure. I guess.” I was ambivalent about Vincent. He was an idea, not a real thing to me at that point. It remained to be seen how I would feel about him up close and personal. “I'm scared.”
“Of dating? Of Vin? Of what?”
“Embarrassing myself.”
“Ah.” His smile had slipped away. “You can't worry about that. Honestly, everyone is afraid of that, Maggie.”
“I'll let you go home. Thanks for the ride.” I moved to open the door, but he placed a hand on my thigh nearest to him.
“Wait.”
I sat, and I waited, watching him retreat from me with a knowing smile. He walked around and opened the door for me, a sweet albeit old-fashioned gesture.
“You didn't have to do that.”
“Did you know my mother?” He let out a dark laugh. It was filled with love more than anything, and I kind of liked that it could be both dark and light. That he could love his mother so much, but also joke about her expectations. “Molly MacKenna would smite my ass if I didn't open the door for a lady.”
“We aren't on a date.”
“You're right, but that is beside the point.” Dominic came up short and took a moment to think. “It would be wrong. Never mind what my mama would think, I'd kick my own ass if I didn't open the door for a lady.”
I laughed; it was a sweet light thing that let my heart float in my chest. It felt nice. Dominic calling me a lady. Talking to him and joking with him. It was nice.
The smell of impending storm tickled my nose. Crickets chirped and mosquitoes buzzed joining a symphony of night noises around us. My house stood small and ordinary before us, front window glowing with the lamp left on for me. It occurred to me too late to be embarrassed by the overgrown lawn and the shutters that desperately needed repainting.
“Well, thanks.”
“Hey, Maggie?”
I turned back, halfway up the walk to the front door of my house. Dominic stood in the lights of his truck, his silhouette bold and large, with his hands stuffed into his pockets.
“What?”
“I could take you out.”
I took a step toward him. Then stopped.
“What do you mean?”
The sound of his breathy laughter helped calm my pounding heart.
“I could take you out, and I don't know, help you. So you get used to what it's like. When Berry takes you out, you won't be so nervous.”
“Oh.” I couldn't decide if I was disappointed. I hadn't thought that Dominic would ask me out. Not for real. Then he did, and for one second my brain had tried to sort through how I might feel about that fact. I hadn't gotten around to figuring out how I felt about a fake date.
“I'm sorry. That was presumptuous,” he amended, a nervousness coloring his words. Not something I would've thought I'd hear from him. But then I didn't know him all that well, and of course he was a real person and not just the poster boy for friendly that he was in my head. “I shouldn't assume that you would want to go out with me.”
“You think I wouldn't want to go out with you?” I took a step forward, and another, until I was in front of him. His body blocked the light, so it wasn't in my eyes, but it shined bright around him like an aura. “Goody goody Magnolia wouldn't go out with the notorious serial dater Dominic MacKenna?”
I loved the sound of his laughter. I joined him, laughing too. There wasn't an attraction there, despite looking at him and knowing he was a fine specimen of a man. I was elated and disappointed at once.
“I did not say that, Miss Maggie.” He ran a hand through his hair that in the weird light looked darker than normal. “I know you're too good for me, but it's a practice date after all.”
“I’m not too good for you. That was my point.” I sighed and tipped my head back to look at the stark outline of him. “But I'll go out with you. I find that I'm not a wreck with you, and I'm not sure why exactly. It's kind of nice.”
“I'm glad I don't scare you.” His voice was unusually solemn. Another side to him, another facet of Dominic I would learn about. “I'm not going to think about why that is, because I'm not sure I'd like the reason.”
He knew. He knew I wasn't into him. I didn't think he'd really care. But I was okay with not looking too hard at it and just accepting that I was moderately comfortable with him.
“How about tomorrow night? You free?”
“I am free, but I'm surprised you are. How is it you don't already have a date lined up for a Saturday night?”
“To tell the truth, I'm tired of the whole thing.” He shrugged and looked past me into the dark or at nothing at all. “I'm getting old.”
“You are twenty-four. That is not old.” I lightly smacked him with my hand and his eyes immediately moved to me.
“Serial dating is getting old.”
“I'm sorry I said that. I shouldn't have.”
“No, you were right.” We had slipped into something serious. His tone was dark, heavier than I expected from him. It drew us closer, both of us stepping in that last little bit until we were so close we could have fallen together. “I am good at dating. I'm a flirt, and I take out a different girl every other week, and it's all fun and games. The skill I lack is taking it to the next step.”
“You just haven't met the right girl. When you do, it will be easy. You'll keep asking that girl out rather than finding a new one.”
“Do you have my number?”
I had to scramble to catch up with the change in direction. I shook my head and he handed me his phone. I opened his texts and sent myself a message. I felt my phone vibrate in my back pocket.
“Good, now you do. I'll text you tomorrow and we'll make plans.”
“Okay, yeah.” Turning, I began walking to my front door again. “Good night, Dominic.”
“Good night, Maggie.”
I let myself in. The lamp on the table beside the couch lit, on a timer that let it burn from sundown until about midnight, meant to be a deterrent to burglars. Somehow the idea of a light on meaning we were home and not to be taken advantage of. My mama would be asleep in her bedroom. She took sleeping pills every night and nothing could wake her. She would never know if I didn't come back home at night. For all her worrying, sh
e wouldn't know. There was a freedom in that, but it was coupled with sadness. Course I was too old for her to keep a close watch on me anyway. I had saved up enough to move out, and I had been itching to move out for years. But when it came down to telling my mama that I was leaving her alone, I could never do it. After Luke died, she leaned on me, she told me frequently I was all she had and that she would fall apart without me, and I stayed.
My phone vibrated again, reminding me I had Dominic MacKenna's number.
I was going out with Dominic the next day.
Cotton had kissed me. Then I had made plans to go out with his brother.
Alyssa was setting me up with Vincent. Maybe. Probably.
My head was a mess. I fell into bed, confused about what had happened and what was coming.
I dreamt of forests and streams in the mountains - my favorite places to go, filled with dappled light and waterfalls. I dreamt of running and stumbling, loss urging me into motion, but all the while with sure hands there to catch me. When I turned to look at who was there with me, I could never catch sight of his face. I woke frustrated along with confused.
Chapter Six
Cotton
I had to put the incident out of mind. That was all there was for it. Nothing to be done. No way to undo the damage. I couldn't very well rewind back to the moment I leaned in and put my mouth on hers and make the other choice, the one in which I walked away before tasting her. I'd spent the last five hours throwing paint at canvas in angry strokes while fanatically combing over my poor decisions, unable to truly put it out of my mind.
I should never have kissed her. But let's go farther back and get to the root. I knew better than to have gone to Prissy Polly's to start with - it had bad idea written all over it. That girl was a temptation, one I clearly could not be trusted with.
The barn where I stabbed my paintbrush against the tooth of the canvas was ominous in the middle of the night. An owl in the rafters, his every hoot a reminder that my problems with Magnolia Porter went back a helluva lot further. I picked my way through a lifetime of memories, going back and back until she was a tiny sprite of a girl, and I was doing what seemed like the right thing protecting her. Heat rushed up my neck, anger taking its tight hold on me, even all these years later. She was small, innocent, and afraid of her own brother as he yelled at her. Did I go all the way back to those moments? And let her brother holler at her and push her around?
The Guilt of a Sparrow Page 5
