Split

by JB Salsbury

  As soon as I hear his truck engine fade into the distance, I sort through Lucas’s file, looking for his application. Guilt washes over me at this complete invasion of his privacy and my fingers still. I shouldn’t be doing this. I got his last name. That should be enough.

  The temptation to take one more look weighs against my conscience, making my fingers shake. Maybe just a quick peek, as long as it’s on accident while I’m putting them in alphabetical—

  My phone vibrates. I jerk and squeal like a little girl.

  “Holy shit!” My hand covers my throbbing chest, hoping to slow my racing heart. “What the hell is wrong with me today?”

  I grab my phone with my free hand. “Hello?”

  “Hey, honey.”

  I groan internally at the all too peppy sound of Trevor’s voice. “Hey, what’s up?”

  “Nice to talk to you too.” He chuckles and I roll my eyes.

  I find Lucas’s name again. Menzano. Is that Italian? It sounds Italian.

  Why does that name sound so familiar?

  “Hello? Did you hear what I just said?”

  “Oh, sorry, no. I’m at work, got my head buried in paperwork.” It’s mostly true. “What was that?”

  “I said I made the first cut for the job in Los Angeles!”

  My heart plummets to my gut and my body sinks like dead weight into my desk chair.

  “Isn’t that amazing? They just called.”

  “Wow…” That should’ve been me. “That’s great, Trevor. I’m…I’m really happy for you.”

  “Right? I’m happy for me too! They want me to bring in one unique work and if I pass that, I’m hired.”

  More good news about how Trevor is living the life I’ve worked my ass off for while I’m stuck back in the life I hate.

  “This station is cutting edge, Shy. They’re looking for dynamic people who’re passionate and can put a new twist on news reporting.”

  Fucking awesome, Trevor. Why don’t I go shove my face in a vat of horseshit to celebrate?

  “I think, I mean, I don’t know this yet, but I think they might find your on-air outburst pretty fucking cool.”

  I perk up, his voice suddenly coming in clear and chasing all other things from my thoughts. “Really?”

  “Yeah, apparently one of the news reporters they just hired was fired by KSB for slashing the tires of a pedophile while covering the sicko’s court hearing.”

  Wow, that means…“Are you saying…Do you think—”

  “Yep, I think they’d love you. I’m going out there next week. I’ll sniff around, drop some hints, tell them about you, okay?”

  My heart leaps in my chest. “Trevor, thank you! Really, thank you so much.”

  “Sure thing, honey.”

  Could this really be happening? A real opportunity to get back my broadcasting career and in Los Angeles of all places.

  My excitement quickly sinks as I remember my earlier conversation with Lucas. Stay. God, that single word tore from his throat with such longing that I wanted to wrap myself around him and promise to never leave.

  Do I give up everything I’ve worked for to see where things go with a man I know next to nothing about?

  I study the scribbled handwriting on his application and then realize he didn’t list a high school or a college. Did he never graduate from high school? I trace his name with my fingertip.

  Lucas Menzano.

  “Who?”

  Trevor’s voice snaps my head up and I pinch my eyes closed. “Oh, um…sorry, I was just going through employee records. The name, it sounded familiar.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Did we know anyone in college with the last name Menzano?”

  He’s quiet for a few seconds. “No, but NAU’s a big school. Could’ve been a Menzano there.”

  I pluck my bottom lip, thinking. “Yeah, it seems familiar to me. I just can’t figure out why.”

  “Ooooh, you’re probably thinking of the Menzano Massacre. We were kids when it happened, but remember we studied it in Com Ethics?”

  Menzano Massacre.

  Yes, that’s where I’d heard the name.

  I stare at my desk, trying to remember the details of the case study.

  “…professor that would fart every time he coughed.” Trevor laughs.

  “What was it again? The story?”

  “It was about ethical decisions regarding minors who commit lethal crimes, felonies, shit like that. Fuck, Shy, did you sleep through that lecture?”

  “Can you just remind me?”

  He huffs out a frustrated breath. “The kid was a minor, thirteen or fourteen. I don’t remember. We talked about how they released his photo but not his name to the public and then debated whether or not it was ethical to do so. Ring a bell?”

  My breathing speeds; my heart pounds in my chest and it’s hard to swallow. “Yeah, the kid he…”

  “He killed his entire family, Shy. The guy was a fucking murderer. He shot his brothers and sister and his mom. Then the psycho killed himself, or tried to but he lived. I can’t believe you don’t remember this.”

  I lick my lips. My eyes feel like they’re being held to open flame.

  “The kid ended up getting off, some stupid technicality, fucking scary as shit to think he’s somewhere out there, ya know? Our legal system failed big-time.”

  My hand shakes and I’m dizzy. “I’m…I’m sorry. I have to go, Trevor. I’ll talk to you—”

  “Wait…you said there’s someone in town with that name? Someone who works for your dad. You think he’s related?”

  Fear lances through me, the urge to protect Lucas overwhelming. “Nah…this guy is…um…it’s not—”

  “Shy? You’re stuttering.”

  Fuck! He thinks I’m lying. I am lying! “This guy is older. He’s a friend of my…dad’s.”

  I chew my lip, hoping Trevor buys my casual, if not too casual, tone.

  “Okaaay…well, I should probably go. I’ve got a lot of work to do if I want to snag this LA job. Wish me luck.”

  “Right, good luck. California here we come.” My heart squeezes painfully at the thought.

  I don’t question my reaction, just hang up the phone and pull up the Internet.

  Using a search engine, I type in Menzano Massacre and hover the arrow over the search button.

  With a deep, fortifying breath, I hit SEARCH.

  My screen fills with lines on top of lines, all news stories from ten years ago.

  I don’t click on any of the links, but rather on the button that searches images related to the story.

  With only a second to prepare myself, my screen fills with photos. One draws my attention immediately. There he is.

  A teenaged Lucas.

  His cheeks hollow, dark circles under his eyes, his thin, gangly body wrapped in a navy blue suit that looks four sizes too big, and a large patch of white gauze on his neck.

  Right where his scar is.

  I can’t blink, can’t look away as I take in the page of images before me.

  Mug shot.

  Him in a faded blue juvenile detention shirt.

  Him following a woman in a red suit into the courthouse.

  It isn’t until a cool wind blows through the window by my desk that I feel the dry of my strung out eyes.

  “Gage…what did you do?”

  Twenty-Five

  Lucas

  I can’t take any more of this distance.

  It’s eating at my skin and shredding me apart.

  Why won’t she talk to me?

  It’s been days since I dropped off the mantelpiece at the McKinstry place with Shyann. I can’t imagine what happened between then and now, but we haven’t spoken since. She left the job site that day a little preoccupied but still waved and flashed me that same Shyann smile.

  Since then…nothing.

  I cast out downriver, the gentle tug on my line and the racing water keeping me from pacing. Keeping me still. After Nash approved the mant
el, I stained and installed it, but with the carving completed I have nothing to occupy my time. Silence and loneliness free my thoughts to fill with Shy.

  I’ve gone by the office, but every time I do she’s on the phone—or else she’s pretending to be. She hasn’t stepped foot on a single job site. And she hasn’t been by to see me at home.

  I’ve wracked my brain trying to figure out what I did wrong, what I said to push her away, and I come to the same conclusion. Gage. He hurt her before and she’s finally come to her senses; it’s what I asked her to do, so I can’t be upset. We’re not safe, and even though I’d love to have Shyann in my life, she may never be able to trust me. Not that I blame her. I don’t trust me.

  Life before Shyann was easy. I never knew what I was missing, so I didn’t begrudge my lack of friends. But she spoiled me with her attention, gave me a taste of what it would be like to share my life with someone else. She looked at me like I was important, breathed new life into mine, and now she’s taken it away.

  My line tugs. I jerk back to hook the fish and reel in a trout. It flops around on the end of my line, its mouth gaping. Movement from the corner of my eye catches my attention and Buddy inches out from beneath the deck.

  Unhooking the fish, the dog whines and creeps closer, tail wagging. “Can’t eat him, Buddy. We’re sending him back.”

  Which reminds me, I’m almost out of dog food. I can’t stand the thought of him going hungry.

  Gathering all my fishing supplies, I store them in the outdoor shed and Buddy darts back under the deck. The weather is getting colder at night as well, and the dog doesn’t have anything outside of his coat to keep him warm.

  I squat down and Buddy retreats deeper into the dark. “Cold in there?”

  Deciding a trip into town for dog food and a dog bed is in order, I head in to grab my keys and some cash from my last paycheck. I study the stack of money and my face gets hot thinking about what I’d planned to do with it—to take Shyann out on a real date. To prove to her I could be normal. After our talk in her office, I was hopeful something was happening between us.

  I was stupid to think it would last.

  That someone like her would ever be able to stick around with someone like me.

  Pulling on my sweatshirt and baseball hat, I hop in my truck and drive into town. The hustle of weekend guests fills the streets as the cooler temperatures bring tourists. Knowing there won’t be any dog beds at the grocery store, I head over to the local feed store. I know they carry supplies for livestock, but I’ve seen painted advertisements on their windows boasting pet supplies as well.

  A bell rings overhead as I step through the door, and I follow the signs that take me to a section devoted to dogs. Taking in all the different brands of food, I grab the bag that has a dog that looks like Buddy on it and move to a wall with beds. Circular, square, rectangle…even doghouses. Maybe I should build him a doghouse. All I’ll need is a little scrap lumber. It’ll get him out from under the deck, off the cold ground. He’ll never survive through winter unless I can get him—

  “Something I can help you with?”

  A man’s voice comes from behind me and panic floods my veins. Hostility triggers the dark, and this guy’s tone isn’t overly friendly.

  “No thanks.” I grip the bag of dog food under my arm. “Got what I need.” A dog bed can wait until tomorrow.

  I’m moving toward the checkout with my head down when a pair of brown cowboy boots step in front of me. “Got some nerve stepping foot in my store.”

  My gaze slowly moves up his wide body to his face. His jaw is tight and a vein pops from his forehead. “I’m…sorry?”

  “A little late for an apology, don’t you think?” His blond hair seems to get lighter as his face becomes crimson. “Your business ain’t welcome here.”

  “Oh…”

  “Get gone, boy.”

  I bristle at him calling me boy, and black flickers at the edge of my vision. I need to get out of here. I step back to the dog food aisle and slide the bag back onto the shelf.

  “I see you here again I’ll call the sheriff and have you arrested for trespassing.”

  Darkness bleeds into my vision, but I push it back and will my pulse to calm.

  “You need an escort, asshole?”

  I jerk at the hate in his words. “No. I’m leaving.” I turn toward the door, my chin tucked deep into my chest.

  “Hey, dumbass!”

  My feet freeze and I slam my eyes shut as Gage claws to the surface. I wish I were a stronger man, the kind who could defend himself. I’ve always wanted to be brave but have fallen short. Always fall short.

  “Stay the hell away from her, you hear me?”

  My muscles tense and my shoulders hit my ears. “Her…?”

  “Shyann Jennings. Stay away from her or you’ll answer to me.”

  Defeat and anguish crush me from within. I shove my shaking hands into my pockets, fisting the flesh of my thighs to stay present.

  “Now get on, boy. Get the fuck outta here.”

  I move as fast as my feet will carry me to the doors when I hear him mumble behind me. “Fuckin’ freak.”

  A light sheen of sweat covers my skin despite the cooler temperature as I shuffle to my truck. My shoulders sag with the weight of betrayal.

  How does Shyann know that guy? She promised me she’d never tell anyone my secret, but I got the distinct feeling whoever that guy was knew about me. About Gage.

  He called me all the standard-issue names for a guy like me, names I grew up hearing more than my own given name.

  If this gets out, if the town finds out who I am, what I’ve done, they’ll want me gone. I’ll be back on the road, jobless, hungry, cold and without a home.

  A home.

  This is the first place I’ve called home since…I push away the thoughts of my mother’s house and focus on getting back to the river house. I squint and concentrate on the road ahead as a blackout presses in.

  My pulse roars in my ears.

  It was a mistake letting anyone in. Being friends with Mr. Jennings, Cody, and the closeness I felt to Shyann. I should’ve known better. I’ve learned this lesson before and I don’t want to learn it again.

  The pain of losing someone is more excruciating than never having someone at all.

  I’m safer on my own.

  We’re safer on our own.

  That’s the way it has to be.

  The way it has to stay.

  The darkness looms beneath the surface. I need to get home. My foot presses the gas harder. Please, Gage, wait until we’re home.

  On that thought, I’m plunged into darkness.

  Shyann

  “What do you mean why? I just told you.” Cody huffs into the phone so loud I have to pull it away from my ear to avoid him blowing out my damn eardrum. “The guy delivered early and Dad needs to cut him a check. Just grab the checkbook and get over here before we lose our contract with these guys.”

  He hangs up on me and I stare at the checkbook on my desk. Chewing on my lip, I consider cutting my truck’s fuel line to keep from having to bring the stupid thing out to them. I’ve managed to avoid work sites since finding out about Lucas. It’s not that I’m afraid of him, or I judge him in any way…Okay, maybe that’s not entirely true. I just realized I don’t know Lucas at all, and everything I thought about Gage, all his threats came flooding back and it hit me. He was right.

  I underestimated him.

  I allowed myself to feel a false sense of security because I trusted Lucas, but if Gage would hurt his own family…my God…then what would he do to me?

  So I threw myself into work. Made sure I stayed busy and when I wasn’t doing that I was home taking care of my dad. I took over the shopping, cooking, and cleaning. Did laundry, cleaned out the refrigerator, the pantry, and ripped all the frilly crap from my old bedroom.

  I did whatever it took to keep my mind off Lucas. Nothing worked. I’ve been hoping to forget the way it felt to ma
ke him smile, to feel his touch or be in his arms. And seeing him made it worse. Every time I see him, the ache in my chest gets worse.

  The way he looks at me kills, because I’m avoiding him. And he knows it.

  I need to move on from my feelings because whether or not I want to believe it, I can’t deny the facts.

  It’s possible Gage killed his family.

  It’s taken everything in my power to stay in town. My feet itch to run, to put as much space between me and this town as possible. I could go to Los Angeles, live off what little I’ve saved; it’d be the easy way out. Also a coward’s way out.

  No more running, Shy.

  I groan and scoop up the checkbook, then stomp to my truck, pissed I’m being forced to do this and risk possibly seeing Lucas. I suppose I could flag one of the guys down, throw it out the truck window without actually having to stop. I just…I can’t face the man with the scarred neck and the broken soul.

  His gray eyes flash in my mind’s eye. Vulnerable, questioning…a shell of a man who seemed to come to life the more time we spent together. The more he trusted me, the more I saw bits and pieces of who he really is come forward. Even Gage, I started to believe that we’d forged a truce between us, that he realized I wouldn’t hurt Lucas. Turns out we were both wrong.

  The work site comes into view and it’s surrounded by our crew working in various areas, some at the table saw, others lifting tile, and still others noticeable only through the windows working inside.

  I quickly scan the area for my dad or Cody, making sure not to linger too long on any one of the men in order to avoid accidentally seeing Lucas, but with laserlike precision, my gaze is drawn directly to him. He’s curled over a table, one long, powerful arm outstretched along a length of wood with a measuring tape in hand. He pulls a pencil from behind his ear and marks the wood before shoving it back between his ear and his backward baseball hat. His muscles bunch beneath his form-hugging tee and I’m captivated. His body stills, and as if he can somehow sense me, his head slowly lifts before his gaze slams into mine.

  “Shit!” I turn away, pull my pickup to the side of the house, and force my racing heart to calm.