It had only taken the police a few minutes to arrive. The coroner had pronounced Helene dead a few minutes later and Justus had stood by while she was placed into the county hearse. A movement in his peripheral vision caught his attention. Trey was sprinting across the yard in a hard line for the fence. “Trey stop!”
The officer next to him was only a millisecond behind in reaction. “Freeze right there!”
Trey kept going. He leapt up, his hands scrabbling for the top of the fence.
A single shot rang out.
Mrs. McAllister screamed.
Trey collapsed onto the grass.
And Justus was sprinting towards him before he even realized he was moving.
Blood gushed from a jagged hole in Trey’s pants, soaking his leg and the grass below him. “They done shot me!” he groaned.
And then Justus was being dragged back. One officer stood over the boy with a gun, while another officer yanked his arms behind him and cuffed him.
Trey screamed and writhed.
Justus felt the damp soaking into his knees. The cold air stung his lungs. He would never forget the surreal feeling that had overwhelmed him as the flashing lights of the vehicles reflected off the mist around him. How his breath had fogged the air as an EMT had quickly set to work on Trey’s leg to stop the bleeding. How Mrs. McAllister’s screams tore through the night over and over and over again.
Trey had begged him to ride with him to the hospital, and Justus had agreed, though now he could only remember the ride and the following night in snatches. He’d gone with the police at some point to Helene’s parents’ home. Stood by quietly wishing he could offer something, anything, of comfort as the news tore them in two. But he’d had nothing. Nothing other than his own grief and the feeling that he should have been able to do something to prevent this.
With Trey’s confession of guilt, his case and moved through the courts fairly quickly. Just last week the decision had come down. Trey had gotten twenty-five years with the possibility of parole after fifteen. He would be thirty-three.
Justus now had to find the courage, the forgiveness—the ability to extend hope and not extinguish it—to go see the kid.
If he were anything like Mick, he would have already done so. He rubbed the place below his collarbone where his one and only tattoo resided and released a short breath. Unlike Mick, Jesus still had a long way to go in transforming Justus’s heart into one like His.
Justus could feel Jalen still pointedly glowering at him.
Justus sighed. “I know, Jalen. I know. How many years have you known me? I’ve never been one to give up easy, but this…took the wind out of my sails, I guess. I know D.R. does a lot of good for boys. I’m just not…I need to be sure that’s where I’m still supposed to be.” At the thought of giving up the ministry he’d served for the past eight years something roiled in the pit of his stomach. “I still feel like I want to help boys. I’m working on it. I just need some ti—”
The door from the back deck suddenly slammed open bringing Justus to a halt.
Riley’s eyes were wide and frightened and fixed directly on him. “Something’s wrong with Dakota.”
A jolt of alarm so powerful it almost took the strength from his legs shot through him. He bolted up and dashed past Riley.
But by the time he got outside, Dakota was striding across the deck from near the rail. She held up a hand. “I’m fine. Let’s not ruin Marie and Reece’s dinner, but can you just take me home, please?”
His concern lowered several notches, but he scanned her from head to toe just to make certain she looked alright. “Riley said something was wrong?” Behind him he heard the door open again and Riley stepped around him, concern still etching her features.
Dakota turned and pulled a startled Riley into an embrace. “I’m sorry. So sorry. I didn’t mean to fall apar. It’s just…we need to talk. But right now, I need to think some things through. And we’ve got the wedding tomorrow. So…give me a few days, okay?”
Riley looked uncertain as to what her response should be.
Dakota turned back to Justus, and he couldn’t help but notice how pale her face was beneath her stitches. “Can you take me back to Serenity Shores?”
“Sure.” He opened the door for her and then hurried to grab her crutches from the corner. But she had already made her excuses to Reece and Marie and limped halfway out of the restaurant before he could say his goodbyes and catch up to her. He followed her until they were outside under the portico and then took her elbow and forced her to stop. “Here.” He held first one crutch and then the other as she settled them beneath her arms, all the while closely watching her face.
She didn’t protest. Didn’t smile. Didn’t meet his gaze. Just slumped against the props as if the life had suddenly drained from her.
He touched her chin and she did look up then, her blue eyes soft and full of some emotion he couldn’t quite lay a name to, but it was one full of hurt, pain, and confusion. He allowed his thumb to linger on her chin, stroking softly. He wanted to press for details. What had happened in the couple minutes she’d been out on the deck with Riley? But all he said was, “Stay here and I’ll bring the car to you?”
She offered an almost imperceptible nod.
All the way back to Serenity Shores she remained quiet, studying the scenery out her window. One hand pleated and unpleated a section of material in her skirt.
The gravel from the long drive that led down to the main house crunched beneath their tires as he slowly eased the car to a stop in the circular drive. He hurried around to her side of the car to help her out. When she stood, he gripped her shoulders. “Do you want to talk about it, now?”
She rolled her lips inward and mashed them together, looking toward the ocean that lay in the dark somewhere below the bluff they were on. “I just need some time.” She brushed past him and her crutches clunked along the walk that led around the side of the house toward the back patio.
He shoved his keys into his pocket. He should leave her be. Only a little bit ago he’d been telling Jalen the same thing. Leave me alone, I need time. But something wouldn’t let him go up to his room as though everything were alright. He went inside, drank some water at the kitchen sink, more to kill time than because he was thirsty, and then propped his hands against the counter and leaned there trying to decide what to do. A gentleman would probably leave her alone as she’d asked. But he couldn’t do it. He clunked his cup onto the granite and strode purposefully through the living room to the slider that led out back.
It took a moment for him to find her.
Dakota sat on the flat-top stone fence that rimmed the upper tier of the backyard, curled up into a little ball with her arms wrapped around her knees and her body rocking slightly. It was probably her body language – so similar to that of Treyvon’s after he’d killed Helene – that sent his heart rate skyrocketing.
He sank down beside her and rested one hand on her shoulder. “Talk to me.”
He felt even more terrified when, instead of responding, Dakota simply turned and curled into his chest, wrapping her arms around him. He could feel her trembling, but she wasn’t crying, and she didn’t say a word.
Justus swallowed the lump in his throat. His palm smoothed over the long silken strands of her hair. Below them the ocean sang its constant repetitive melody. “What can I do for you?”
She shook her head. Sniffed. Then said softly, “Earlier I told you about the wreck I was in. The man in the pickup? I just found out he was Riley’s boyfriend.”
Justus’s eyes dropped closed and he rested his chin against her head.
“She said he…became so abusive after the wreck.” A tremor shivered through her.
Justus felt all the air rush from his lungs, and he held her a little tighter. Dakota thought Riley’s situation was her fault. And boy, didn’t he know what that felt like, he suddenly realized. Somehow even though his head knew it wasn’t his fault – what happened to Helene – his he
art wanted to find some assignment for the blame. “Don’t do this to yourself. What that man did to her, you can’t hold yourself responsible for that.”
She only sniffled and held her silence.
And then he was pouring out Treyvon’s story to her. Laying bare all the emotions he’d felt from responsibility, to guilt, to horror and anger, and how he wasn’t sure he would ever be able to run Deschutes Rejuvenation with the same passion as before. “I thought I’d reached him. Helped him change. But he hit her with a baseball bat in an argument over a shopping trip she took.”
She listened quietly as he laid the whole story out and worked through the tangled knots of his emotions. “In the end I’ve had to realize that I did the best I could to reach him and he rejected what I had to say. Rejected God. As much as that hurts, I can’t believe his actions are my fault.” When he finally stopped talking and eased out the first breath of relief he’d felt in weeks, she still said nothing.
He leaned back from her and took her face in both his hands.
Moonlight shimmered in the moist blue of her eyes. She searched his face as though needing every scrap of truth and comfort he might have to offer, and he let her look.
After a long moment he spoke softly. “His reaction to the accident is not your responsibility. You can’t take that on yourself. Trust me, I know.” And wouldn’t Jalen love to hear me say it.
She blinked slowly. “I guess I know that,” she touched her temple, “but here,” she rested a hand against her heart, “it hurts too much to let it go.”
“I know that too.” So much emotion welled up in him at that moment. He wanted, no needed, to protect this woman from all the pain life was throwing at her.
Before he realized what he was doing, his lips had settled against her forehead. The smooth softness of her skin and the little gasp she let loose tantalized him.
Dakota willed herself to breathe normally as Justus pulled back slightly. What was she doing here? They were hovering, teetering, on the edge of a relationship. Her mind swirled in a crazy mix of desire to jump in head first, and terror at the same prospect.
He studied her for a long minute. Somehow he had the ability to make her acutely aware that she couldn’t look her best right now. Not with the bruising and stitches and probably
tear smeared makeup. And yet at the same time she had a feeling none of that mattered to him.
Finally he said, “Can I ask you a question?” His fingers stroked the sleeves of her jacket.
She stilled, and swallowed down the lump that must be her heart in her throat.
His intention shimmered in his eyes before he spoke. “I know we haven’t known each other that long—” His jaw bunched as he turned to look out over the water.
Dakota took a slow breath to calm her Benedict Arnold of a pulse and tried to keep from trembling as she waited for him to go on. Not a cloud hung in the sky, and the December breeze was cold. To keep her fingers busy, she reached for her hood.
“Here, let me…” Justus tugged the fur-lined covering into place, cinching it under her chin and tying it.
“Thanks.”
He rested his hands on her shoulders, searching her face intently. If anything the intensity in his scrutiny had grown.
She fiddled with the cuffs on her coat and hoped he hadn’t felt the tremor that had just coursed through her. The breeze played with his curls, tantalizing her with its freedom to caress through them. It ought to be a crime for any man to look so good. To have such blue eyes that seemed to be able to see into her very soul. She felt her forehead tense up. Why was she letting herself feel these things when she knew it was impossible to let it go anywhere?
Finally he let loose a little breath and a hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “I have a bit of a confession.”
“Oh?” Had the word sounded as breathy to him as it had to her?
“The night of the storm…I was coming early to ask you out to dinner.” He quirked an eyebrow like that should mean something to her.
Her pulse hammered and her mouth was suddenly parched. “But you said—”
He touched a finger to her lips. “I know what I said. But God keeps reminding me lately how short life is. And…I wasn’t being quite honest when I said I just wanted to be your friend.”
“Oh.” She pinched the inside of her lip between her teeth. Forced herself to remain steady and not sway toward him.
She scrabbled to remind herself of the reasons why Justus was not a man she wanted to pursue a relationship with, but all of them suddenly seemed very thin and threadbare.
A man who normally rode everywhere on a motorbike. That’s flimsy and you know it.
Dangerous job. But no one is assured tomorrow.
“So if not just friends, then…?”
He gently touched a strand of her hair that had escaped from her hood. “Go on a date with me? Something light. Dinner. A movie. We’ll see where it goes from there.” Vulnerability cloaked his features. “I like you a lot, Dakota.”
She eased out a slow breath, not ready to admit to him that the feeling was mutual. And a little bit petrified of just how much she did like him. She eased away and turned to stare down the embankment beside them.
An ex-con… Heavy on the ex.
Still… Justus had served time. He’d started Deschutes Rejuvenation to help boys like he had been. And he’d just told her that one of those boys had killed someone! What had Justus done to end up in jail? She felt a wash of lightheadedness. Dakota, stop it. He obviously didn’t kill anyone or he would still be in jail. Even so…how much did she really know about the man?
“Justus, I need to know…” She folded her arms against the chill, unable to look at him.
“You need to know what?” He leaned in to her line of vision, concern tightening his jawline.
Did she really want to know? And how did one phrase such a question?
She shook away the melancholy and added a little drama to her shiver. “Never mind. It’s cold out here, and we have an early morning tomorrow.” Her crutches clunked against the wall as she grabbed for them.
Justus sighed, but stood when she did and followed her to the patio door. He opened it and let her step inside, then reached out a hand to stop her from leaving. His gaze drilling into hers, he reached behind himself and slowly pulled the slider shut. “So do I get an answer?”
She wished she’d been able to get away without having to give him an answer she knew would hurt him. She pretended not to understand. “Did you ask me a question?”
Instead of filling with humor like she’d expected it to, his face turned very serious. “Dakota Trask, will you have dinner with me?”
She swallowed, and rolled her lips in, pressing them together. The scent of his cologne wafted to her, spicy and tantalizing. She took in the soft light of his gaze, and remembered how gentle he’d been with the little boy they’d almost hit. How highly Reece spoke of him. How tender and caring he’d been toward her over the last several days. Not to mention his frequent acknowledgements of God’s faithfulness in his life. That last one was huge.
She tried to push aside her concerns. One date. What could it hurt?
It could hurt a lot.
“Justus, I’m sorry. I wish I could say yes, but—” How did a woman tell a man she couldn’t date him because he’d been to jail and she didn’t know why? No tactful way of saying it came to mind, so she just let the silence hang between them.
Justus rubbed the back of his neck and studied her, a touch of hurt lingering in his eyes. She hated that she’d put it there. Finally, he dropped his hands to his hips and gave a slight nod. “I think I understand.”
She rubbed her Adam’s apple with the tips of her fingers and turned her attention to the staircase, wishing away the pain that had settled at the base of her throat. “I better head up and get some sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.”
He turned his back, folded his arms, and settled in to his heels as he stared into th
e darkness beyond the window. “Yeah. See you then.” His expression, reflected in the glass, showed that his eyes had dropped closed.
She wanted to go to him, wrap her arms around him, and tell him it was all a mistake. But her feet dragged her toward the stairs instead.
“Dakota?” His voice stopped her on the bottom tread.
She turned towards him and arched her brows.
“When you are ready to hear the answer, you ask your question. I’ll be happy to tell you what you want to know.”
Her pulse thundered in her ears and she knew she must look like a wide eyed doe about to be struck by a semi. But she had no rejoinder at the moment. All she said was, “Goodnight, Justus,” and resumed her climb of the stairs.
What would her mother and father say if she told them she just might be falling for a man who’d been to prison? She used the handrail to pull herself up the last few steps. One thing was certain. She’d better shore up her defenses and keep her distance from the man, because he’d most definitely found a breach.
With a sigh, she closed her bedroom door behind her and leaned against it. She needed more Tylenol if she was going to be able to sleep. Her headache was coming on strong again.
Justus entered his room and fell back on the bed, clasping his hands behind his head. He’d seen the questions in her eyes. And he’d wanted to tell her. But she needed to be ready to hear. He didn’t want his story to sound like a plea for her sympathy. And that thought alone had kept the words dammed up inside him.
When she was ready she would ask. Cold terror, mixed with anticipation, washed through him at that prospect. Really what did he have to lose? His time-served hung between them already. He knew what he’d been, and it wasn’t pretty. Not even close. He also knew that when she learned the truth about what had put him in jail, she would see him a little differently. That might be good. That thought had tempted him to blurt the whole story tonight. But he didn’t want her thinking he was telling her only to get her commiseration. No pity-dates for him, thank you very much.
Song of the Surf (Pacific Shores Book 3) Page 9
