by Leigh Landry
“I guess. But it could still be a dead end. He said it all depends on where it was sent from and whether we can track it to a specific person.” He shrugged. “This is not my area of expertise.”
“Like you have an area of expertise.”
“Hey, you’ve seen my fan mail. I’m apparently great at pissing people off.”
She laughed. “I take it back. You are an expert at that.”
He tried and failed to hold back a smile. Her laugh sent him over the edge. An edge he’d gladly tumble over again and again. “I could show you a few other areas of expertise later if you’ll let me.”
The car wobbled into its right-hand turn, and Marc grabbed the dash as they bumped the curb.
Flustered was a good sign. Flustered was one step closer to getting her inside his house.
If he survived this drive.
She relaxed her shoulders and realigned the car. “If you’re that interested in getting laid, then all you had to do was let me leave. Chloe could have driven you home and finished the job.”
This again. “Why are you pushing that? I didn’t think you were a big fan of hers.”
“I’m not. But I figured you must be.”
“Why? I told you. Not my type.”
“Aside from the obvious fact that she is exactly your type, you did the whole winking thing.”
“So because I winked at her—which I thought was pretty obvious that I was teasing and flirting with you—you assumed that I want to have sex with her?”
“How is winking at her flirting with me?”
When she put it that way, it really did sound like his moves needed work. “Does that mean you were jealous?”
“Oh, shut up.”
He smiled and leaned against the headrest. It wasn’t a denial. “How are you so sure you know my type anyway?”
“You’re kidding, right? Did you not notice that she looks almost exactly like a certain girl you dated?”
Marc’s mouth hung open a little as he stared at her, her eyes straight ahead, her jaw set. He knew exactly who she was referring to. Even if he didn't think the similarity was as striking as she did.
But he’d never told her he and Kassie went out in high school. She obviously found out somehow.
She turned into his driveway, pulled the emergency brake, and left the engine running.
“Aren’t you getting down?” They weren’t the words he wanted to say, but they were the only ones he could force out of his mouth.
“I’m waiting for you to get out so I can go home. What does it look like I’m doing?”
Running. She was running away. Again.
That was why she’d stopped answering his calls all those years ago.
His heart raced. He was losing her.
But he couldn’t exactly make her stick around if she didn’t want to. And he was ninety-five percent certain she didn’t want anything to do with him. The other five percent was wishful thinking.
“I thought you wanted to take a look around Dad’s workshop?” His desire to keep her with him a little longer won out over his desire to keep her out of this mess.
“Right.” She hesitated. “The stolen stuff.”
“I mean, the cops have already been through it all.” Dang it. It was true, but why was he giving her a reason not to stay? “But now that we know all of this other stuff, maybe something new will stick out.”
She thought for a second, then cut off the engine.
Marc got out, while Sierra opened the back door and took the dog’s leash.
“Where are you going with that?”
“I’m not leaving him in there. Besides, you have a fenced yard, and he probably has to go to the bathroom after that burger.”
“So you’re gonna let him crap in my yard?”
“I’ll clean it up. Calm down.” Her nose wrinkled, and she looked at the dark sky. Admiring the stars the same way they used to lie on the ground and look up at the sky on cool nights like this. “You smell that?”
He took a whiff of the air. “Yeah. Home sweet home, right? You don’t remember how people always burn trash out here?”
“They haven’t cracked down on that by now?”
He walked her to the back gate, holding it open for her and the dog. “Not really. Someone’s still burning something at least once a month out here.”
“It smells awful.” She waved her hand in front of her face.
“Yeah, it always does. You won’t smell it once we’re in the shop.” He flipped the switch to turn on the backyard floodlights. “It’s right around the corner.”
“I remember.”
She smiled back at him, and his heart lurched.
Sierra swatted mosquitoes from her bare arms under the floodlight. She could go back to grab her flannel shirt from the car, but it smelled like stray dog now. Plus, she wasn’t sure she could make herself walk out of that yard.
Her feet were rooted in place, and her eyes were glued to the cypress swing hanging from the porch a few yards away. Even in the dark, before Marc flipped the light on, Sierra knew where everything was. That swing. Marc’s dad’s workshop. The fence line. The bayou beyond the property. She could smell the muddy waters. Hear the frogs.
She was home.
The dog was the only thing different. The only thing reminding her that this wasn’t the past. As soon as Sierra had slipped the rope off his neck, the dog bounced and pranced in the grass like a puppy. Even Marc couldn’t help himself and bent down to scratch the dog’s ear when it hopped over to lick his hand. Marc looked much less pleased when the dog found a nice, quiet corner and took a gigantic dump on the grass.
“You okay?” He walked toward her, concern set deep in his furrowed brow.
“Yeah,” she said. “This is just…weird.”
He followed her gaze to the swing and cleared his throat. “So Luna was pretty cute.”
Sierra shook her head and looked away from the ghosts on the swing. “Yeah, she’s great.”
“Is she shy, or is it just me she didn’t like?”
“She liked you fine,” Sierra said. “She doesn’t talk.”
“To strangers or at all?”
“At all. Not since her dad died last year.”
“I’m sorry.”
Sierra shrugged. “We’re working on it.” And they would work on that as soon as she got this reward.
“Listen, I know this won’t mean much now, but I’m sorry about Kassie,” Marc said. “Honestly though, I was fifteen.”
Sierra flinched at the words. She did not want to talk about their past right now, but even worse, she didn’t want to talk about Kassie. She wanted to rub his face in the mess the dog just made. “I don’t care that you went out with her.”
“Seems like you do.”
“Fine. I cared that you went out with the girl who told the whole school when I got my period and stained my pants in seventh grade. I cared that you said you couldn’t stand her either, and the second I was out of sight you decided to suck face with her.” She paused to catch her breath, her heart racing with anger. She hadn’t meant for any of that to come out. “But what I cared most about was that you didn’t even bother to tell me you started going out with someone. I had to hear it from her cousin who went to my school and had it out for me even more than Kassie did for some reason. And I wouldn’t have cared at all about any of it if you hadn’t gone and kissed me and confused the hell out of everything then ghosted.”
He swallowed and pressed his lips together. Thinking. Like he didn’t have fifteen years to come up with a better answer. “I didn’t want to hurt you. I’m sorry.”
“Wait, you kissed me, insisted we keep in touch, then went out with another girl without telling me because you didn’t want to hurt me?”
“Kind of. Yeah.” He sighed. “I realize now it was stupid and selfish.”
She didn’t know what to say to him. It was the most honest thing he’d ever said to her. But it wasn’t what she wanted to hear. Not t
hat she even knew what she wanted to hear.
He knew her history. He knew her mom had walked out on her and her dad, and done who knows what other things her dad kept secret from her.
What hurt the most was that she and Marc had been friends. Best friends. Then he’d muddied everything up with that kiss, and then she was out of sight and out of mind. Just like that. No matter his reasons, that’s what happened.
And now he’d kissed her again.
He knew Sierra wasn’t in the habit of handing out second chances to people who walked out on her. Whatever she was feeling, whatever was sparking between them now, it didn’t change that.
“Are you going to show me the workshop or what?”
Marc took a deep breath and stared at her for a few moments. Thankfully, he decided against saying anything else.
Sierra stood back as Marc pulled the thick rope to raise a metal door large enough to fit an RV through it. She covered her ears, unable to take the metal on metal grinding, and watched the door roll up to the ceiling.
It was like stepping into another world—a world of metal and grease and machinery. She stared in awe, her mouth dangling open like a catfish, and wondered why she’d never been inside the shop before.
Then she remembered. Marc’s dad never let anyone inside the shop.
“Imagine the trouble we could have gotten into in here,” she said.
“Pretty sure Dad got into enough trouble in here without us.”
“How much trouble could he get into in here by himself?”
“It was more after you guys left. When the Guidrys moved in down the road.” Marc scratched the back of his neck and looked around as if he was waiting for ghosts to pop up from behind a workbench. “Mr. Guidry, Chloe’s dad, used to hang out with my dad in here all the time. Dad loved showing off his work. He’d retired and Mr. Guidry was on disability after some accident. I don’t remember what, something happened to his leg. He could walk but couldn’t work on a rig anymore. So he and my dad would tell jokes and shout about this or that and drink the night away. Sometimes the morning. Sometimes the whole day. Drove Mom crazy, but at least he wasn’t drinking in the house around us anymore.”
Sierra tried to remember Marc’s dad drinking or hungover or in some disheveled state of being, but she couldn’t. He was surly and feisty, but so were half the Cajun men she’d grown up around. “I don’t remember any of that.”
“We were young. Plus, it got worse after you guys left. I guess having a partner in crime three houses away kind of amped up the situation.”
Sierra examined the shop. Every nook and cranny looked like an accident waiting to happen. If she took one wrong step or tripped on one stray tool out of place, she might lose an eye or an arm. Or worse.
“It’s amazing he didn’t get himself killed in here in that condition.”
Marc nodded. “After Mr. Guidry left town, Dad became a sullen, withdrawn drunk. Didn’t annoy anyone, but didn’t do much of anything else either. Kind of sucked the life out of him until he got sick.”
“You didn’t say before…was it cancer?”
Marc nodded. “Bladder. We were all shocked it wasn’t his liver.”
“I’m sorry.”
He shrugged and looked up at the top shelves like he was searching for something that wasn’t there. “He wasn’t sick long. Never really fought it. Kind of gave up.”
She hated the idea of Marc having to watch his dad decline that way. No one should have to watch a parent fall apart and give up. “So Chloe’s dad left? By himself or did they all move?”
“He just up and left one day. No warning. No goodbye. They all woke up one day and he was gone. Even Dad didn’t see it coming.”
Sierra held her breath, letting the faded memory wash over her. Her mama walking out the door. A beat-up, black duffel bag and a bright orange purse.
It hadn’t been the first time her mom had left, only the last. Sierra had watched her mom walk in and out of their lives for as long as she could remember. She’d watched her dad give her mom chance after chance because he’d loved her and believed her every time. He’d wanted Sierra to have her mom, no matter how much the woman hurt them both.
Sierra couldn’t help feel a twinge of empathy for Chloe. Being abandoned by a parent with no explanation or apology from the one person who was supposed to always be there for you…it sucked.
But that experience taught Sierra a valuable lesson: never give someone who’s hurt you the chance to do it again.
Marc motioned for her to follow him to another wall covered from floor to fifteen-foot ceiling with metal shelving. The bottom two shelves were bare, and she noticed the adjoining wall had a few empty hooks on it, but nothing else.
“These two walls were filled with metal rods. And this wall had some of Dad’s sculptures. A few pelicans and a couple of abstract pieces.”
“Was all of that listed in the ad?”
“No. I wasn’t going to sell any of the sculptures. Mom and Denise would kill me. But the rods were listed.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “Funny thing is, they didn’t take any of the big tools or welders I listed. If someone was going to steal stuff, I’d think they’d have taken the expensive stuff from the ad.”
“Maybe they thought they could get more for the sculptures once they saw those.”
“But wouldn’t those also be easier to trace?”
He was right. You couldn’t exactly bring those to a pawn shop. And who would you sell them to? It’s not like anyone could put those out on display. They were too recognizable.
Sierra watched him stare at the empty wall space. He wasn’t just keeping those sculptures for his mom and Denise. Despite his dad being a royal pain in the butt—and Sierra did remember that much—Marc had worshiped the man.
He would stare longingly at the shop on Saturday mornings. Sierra would have to drag him and his bike down the driveway to get him to go anywhere with her. She didn’t understand his fascination with that building back then, but now, watching him in the shop lost in memories, the truth was clear.
Sierra had watched her mother pack a duffel bag and wave goodbye over her shoulder. Her sunglasses perched on her head while she chomped a piece of cinnamon Dentyne with glee. But Marc didn’t have to watch his dad leave to feel like he’d lost him. He lost him over and over every day, each time he turned his back and closed that shop door behind him without even a glance back at Marc.
Her hand moved to the side a few inches, rubbed against the rough denim of Marc’s jeans, then found his hand. She laced her fingers between his and squeezed their palms together.
His hand was warm. Comforting. Right.
Even though she’d known this man beside her for only two days, she couldn’t deny that her heart recognized his. That he was her home.
He looked down at their hands and squeezed back. “I mean it. I’m really sorry I hurt you.”
“I know.” She did. She believed him. She knew it was old history, and she knew he didn’t mean to hurt her. She didn’t care about Kassie, not really. She only cared that he’d confused her then cut her off.
She released his hand and let her fingers slide away.
She couldn’t let him hurt her again.
“I was only trying to protect you.”
“Protect me? From what? You being a teenager? I didn’t need your protection.” She swallowed and dropped her head to look at his shoes while she blinked back tears. Gray sneakers with bright green stripes. Cute. Comfortable. Marc. “I needed my best friend. I didn’t need you deciding for me what I needed to know.”
“I get that. Now.” He stood in front of her, holding both of her hands, and leaned in to press his forehead against hers. When he pulled back, he looked directly at her, his face inches away. “What’s your decision now?”
Sierra’s heart lurched. She wanted to press her mouth against his, to continue where they’d left off in that empty parking lot.
But her brain knew better than her traitor
ous heart.
“I decided long ago to not let anyone disappoint me more than once.”
He gave a sly smile. One that spelled trouble. She could smell trouble in the air as clearly as she could smell the grease and wood and dust in that shop.
“What if I promise not to disappoint?” His deep, dark eyes flickered with teasing temptation. She could smell the lingering sweetness of bread pudding gelato on his breath.
She bit her lip to fight a smile. “Stooooop.”
He pulled his head back, and his face turned serious.
It took her a second to realize what was happening. She’d told him to stop, and he did. No argument. No pleading. He’d just stopped. Because she’d said to.
Her heart raced. This was the Marc she’d always wanted. The Marc who heard her. The Marc who respected her boundaries. The Marc who was standing right in front of her now.
“What I meant was stop talking and kiss me.”
Marc studied her for a few seconds, analyzing her signals, then his playful smile returned.
Sierra squeezed his hands at her sides and met his lips with hers. They kissed softly, testing out this new thing between them. Waiting for this moment to dissolve, for the rush to fall away and for one or both of them to realize this was a mistake.
But it didn’t go away. The heat Sierra felt only intensified. The urge to kiss him grew stronger, even though her mouth was already pressed against his. His tongue found its way inside her mouth.
The kiss a few hours earlier had been a reintroduction. A transition between that sweet, simple kiss they’d had years ago and this. There was no more awkwardness. She wasn’t kissing some boy from down the street. This was all new territory.
Sierra released his hands and slid hers up his arms to rest her palms against his chest. She fought the urge to push him away. She was so used to pushing everyone away. But even her brain had stopped screaming that this was a bad idea and joined her heart.
Pressing her hands against his chest, something inside her realized that for once she didn’t want to push him away. Not anymore.
Marc slid his own hands up and found her face, holding it while his kisses became more urgent. Hard. Desperate.
She stumbled backward under the weight of his insistence. He steadied her with one hand around her lower back, pulling her even closer. She grabbed his shirt in her fists and followed as he walked them both back a couple of steps. Sierra landed against a rolling cart which they pushed until it bumped into something solid.