Close To The Fire

by Suzanne Ferrell

  He couldn’t possibly know?

  “The injuries to Kyle?” he said, laying his hand over hers and clarifying his question. “Did Emma say how badly he was hurt?”

  Libby’s heart dropped back into a regular rhythm and her body relaxed. Her secret was still safe—for now. “No, she didn’t give me details. She thought someone should be there for him and Todd Banyon wasn’t really a good choice.”

  A harsh bark sounded from Deke.

  She turned to watch him in the intermittent light and shadows cast from the passing streetlights. “What?”

  He glanced at her, shaking his head slightly. “I can’t imagine that guy giving anyone comfort, much less understanding. Emma was right. You are a much better choice to be there for Kyle.”

  Something in his voice caught her attention. “You like him, don’t you?”

  The corner of his mouth lifted slightly. “He’s had it tough, but so have lots of kids. It doesn’t look like he’s letting it keep him down. He seems to be responsible and determined.” He paused. “Yeah, I like him. There’s something about the kid. A kind of connection.”

  Before she could ask him more, he released her hand and turned into the parking lot next to the Westen Medical Clinic. A fancy title for the two-story Victorian that Doc Clint’s uncle and aunt had converted into the clinic decades earlier. Clint and Emma had converted the upstairs rooms from a live-in apartment to an overnight stay for minor cases that needed watching, but not hospitalization. They’d also expanded the lower level to have several more exam rooms. All the lights in the front of the downstairs were on and one upstairs.

  The van from the Peaches ’N Cream Café sat in the lot. Deke parked next to it. As they climbed out of the truck, the front door to the clinic opened and Doc Clint met them on the wide front porch that extended across the front of the house.

  “Sorry to get you out here so late,” he said, shaking hands with both of them. “Kid got the shit beat out of him outside of the café. Lorna and Rachel brought him to me.”

  “How is he?” Libby asked, wrapping her arms about her. The news that someone could attack a young man so violently in their small town sent a shiver through her despite the warm summer night.

  “Mostly, cuts, bruises, broken nose. I’m keeping him overnight. Just to be sure I’m not missing any internal injuries.” Clint shook his head. “Hands are a mess. I think the kid gave as good as he got.”

  “Good,” Deke said, conviction and anger lacing his words.

  Anger surged through her. “Good? A boy gets beat up and injured badly enough to have to be observed overnight and you think it’s good he hurt someone else?”

  The two men exchanged a look that said their pride in Kyle for defending himself at risk to his own safety was justified.

  Men. Did they ever really crawl out of their Stone Age caves? Shaking her head, she swung open the screen door and stalked into the clinic, not looking to see if either of them followed.

  Harriett, the irascible nurse Doc Clint had inherited with the clinic from his uncle, stood at the foot of the stairs, holding out a bag of frozen peas to her. “Upstairs. Cover with a towel. Right hand. Twenty minutes.”

  Without another word she turned and headed into the back of the clinic.

  Libby shook her head again. It had taken her years to get used to Harriett’s limited conversation. She was blunt, succinct, almost to the point of rudeness. But Libby had also learned the older lady loved every one of her neighbors and patients.

  Hearing the low rumble of conversation between Deke and Clint as they entered the clinic, she hurried up the stairs. She wasn’t in the mood for any more male chest thumping.

  Outside the overnight room, Lorna sat in a chair. “Hey, Libby,” she greeted her, but not with her usual sass. No smile. In fact, she hadn’t ever seen the other woman this quiet or angry.

  “How is he?” she asked, peeking inside to see Kyle in the hospital bed and Rachel sitting by his side, talking quietly to him.

  “Doc thinks his injuries aren’t too bad, at least he doesn’t think there are any internal ones, but he’s keeping him overnight.”

  Libby nodded. “That’s what he told us downstairs.”

  “Us?” Lorna tilted her head slightly and lifted one brow.

  Great. She was going to tell the center of the town’s gossip about Deke. “Deke was at my place when Emma called. As his football coach he wanted to come check on him.”

  “Good.” Lorna gave a hard nod, delivering her approval—of what, Libby wasn’t quite sure. Deke being with her or him being interested in Kyle’s welfare. Knowing Lorna’s busybody ways, it was probably both. “That boy in there could use a man in his corner.”

  Left unsaid, but the intense look in her friend’s eyes spoke that she, too, could use a man like Deke in her corner. She also suspected she thought Deke needed someone, too—her. While she couldn’t agree more, there were a few more bridges they had to cross before that could ever happen. If only her libido would listen to her heart and brain.

  “Better get those peas on his hand before Harriett comes up here. You know how she can get when her orders aren’t followed exactly.” Lorna said with a wink, as she stood and looked into the room. “Rachel, we have an early day tomorrow. Kyle, you listen and do what the doc and Harriett say. No arguments. I expect you back at work tomorrow night.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said. Relief crossed his face. Apparently he’d been worried he’d lose his job over this. “And thank you.”

  Softness crept over Lorna’s features. “No need to thank me. I’m just sorry this happened to you, especially outside my café.”

  “See you tomorrow.” Rachel patted Kyle on the shoulder, then walked to the door.

  Kyle’s eyes never left her, even after the pair headed down stairs. Libby hid the smile. The boy was head-over-heels for the young waitress. She had to admit he had good taste. Pretty, practical and smart. Hopefully, she wouldn’t break his heart.

  “Harriett sent this up to you,” she said, holding up the bag of frozen peas and crossing over to the bedside, trying not to wince at his injuries. She lifted one of the washcloths folded neatly on the side table, wrapped it over the plastic bag and laid it gently on the boy’s right hand, which was swollen and the knuckles red from the multiple abrasions.

  He hissed at the contact, but laid his other hand, much less injured, over the makeshift icepack.

  “Sorry. It will help.” She sat in the straight-back, woven-cane-bottom chair Rachel had vacated. “Harriett said to leave it on twenty minutes. And I’d recommend you don’t take it off one second sooner. She has eyes everywhere.”

  “Yeah. She had some on my face a little bit ago. The look she gave me said I’d better not complain.” He laughed. Then stopped with a catch and a moan. “Sorry. It kinda hurts to laugh.”

  “I imagine it does,” she said, studying everything she saw in the dim lamplight of the room.

  Whoever had done this, they seemed to have concentrated on his face. His left eye was already showing signs of being bruised. Both cheeks had bruises and cuts on them. His lip was cut and swollen. His nose was cut and swollen.

  “Did you break your nose?”

  “Yeah. The doctor put it back in place.”

  Libby winced. “I bet that hurt.”

  “Not too bad. He said it was because it was already damaged, putting it back in place would make it feel better.” He closed his eyes and leaned back in the bed. He looked so alone and so helpless in the hospital bed.

  What had he done to make someone want to hurt him so badly?

  “Who did this to you, Kyle?” she asked after a few minutes.

  “That’s what I’d like to know,” a gravelly voice asked from the door.

  Deke strode into the room, grabbed the other cane-bottom chair and came to sit on the other side of the bed.

  “Coach,” Kyle said, a look of surprise crossed his face and he struggled to sit up.

  “Don’t move.�
� Deke laid a hand on his shoulder stopping his efforts. “Doc Clint said you took a couple of kicks to the side, as well as all this,” he said as he waved at Kyle’s facial injuries. “You want to tell me what happened?”

  The hopeful light in Kyle’s eyes dropped and a mask of teenage stubbornness dropped over his face. “I was taking out the trash and some guys jumped me.”

  “And you didn’t recognize any of them?” Deke asked, watching Kyle.

  The young man looked down at his hands. “No, sir. It was too dark.”

  “I don’t know what’s in your past, Kyle,” Deke said. “But we all come with some kind of baggage. Sometimes you just got to take the chance and trust people.”

  After a moment Kyle shook his head. “Like I said, didn’t see who they were, sir.”

  Deke looked at Libby, one brow lifted in doubt at the boy’s reply. She had to agree. Kyle knew exactly who had done this, but he wasn’t going to tell them. They weren’t his parents or legal guardians, so they had no recourse to force him to tell them.

  “You’re going to have to stay here overnight, Kyle,” she said.

  His head snapped up at that. “Colbert House has rules about not making curfew.”

  “Your health is the most important thing. I’ll handle Mr. Banyon and the house rules.”

  “You’re sure it will be okay?”

  She smiled and patted his arm in a spot that wasn’t bruised. “I’m on the board that made up those rules. I think I can get them amended to cover a night in the clinic.”

  “Uhm. Thanks.”

  Deke pushed his chair back. “You get some rest and Doc Clint will have to clear you to return to practice tomorrow.”

  “You mean I’m still on the team?” The hope in the young man’s face nearly brought tears to Libby’s eyes as she stood, too.

  Deke pointed to his injured hands. “Anybody who can take a beating like this and still have enough fight in him to give some of it back is gonna be one helluva defensive player and I want you on the team.”

  “I’ll be there, Coach. You can count on it,” he said as he lay back in the bed.

  “Okay, you two. Out. Kid needs some sleep,” Harriett said, bustling her way into the room, a cup of small pills, glass of water and two more bags of frozen peas on a tray.

  Libby and Deke didn’t waste any words arguing with her. Everyone in Westen knew, when Harriett was in nurse mode and giving orders, it was just best to obey. They’d been trained since childhood to do so.

  * * * * *

  They drove a few blocks in silence again. Deke hadn’t asked if she wanted him to take her over to Colbert House, he just was. He had a feeling he knew exactly who’d been behind the beating Kyle took, but just in case he was wrong and it was someone at the halfway house, he wasn’t letting Libby go there by herself so late at night.

  She hasn’t needed your help for the last ten years.

  True. But until last spring he’d never thought anyone was in any kind of danger in Westen. Now he realized evil could be anywhere, even a sleepy little town like theirs. Besides, now that he’d gotten a taste of her after all these years, and a feel of her in his arms, he wasn’t sure he could walk away again.

  “He was lying, wasn’t he?” Her quiet words were more a statement than a question.

  “You got that, too, huh?”

  “Fairly obvious when he wouldn’t look either one of us in the eyes. If he knew who did this, why wouldn’t he tell us? Is he afraid of them finding out and repeating the attack?”

  “I don’t think its fear. More like a rite of passage and pride. He was outnumbered, but he didn’t give in to them. In fact, I suspect some of them have a few bruises of their own.”

  He felt her gaze on him in the darkness. Even after all these years, his body was attuned to every little thing she did, even just looking at him.

  “You know who did it, don’t you?”

  He shrugged. “I have my suspicions.”

  The silence stretched between them as they pulled in beside Colbert House. Only one light was on near the back of the house on the main floor. Apparently, Todd Banyon kept a tight curfew on his residents, it was just barely eleven.

  Libby didn’t make a move to open the door even after he turned off the engine.

  “Are you going to tell me who you think beat Kyle?” she finally asked, one hand on the door handle.

  “Nope.”

  “Why not?” She paused and let out a very un-ladylike snort. “Let me guess, it has to do with the whole male-pride thing. If Kyle won’t tell me, you won’t either.”

  “Pretty much.” For some reason, getting her riled up took some of the edge out of his own anger over what was done to the kid.

  “Will you at least let Gage know, so he can investigate the beating?”

  “Depends.”

  “Depends on what?” Her voice had gotten more edgy and he had to fight the urge to grin at her.

  “On whether or not I need help handling it.”

  She shook her head at him. “It’s just like when we were in high school. You, Bill and Gage wouldn’t let me know what you did to Ryan Tompkins after he ripped my dress at the freshman mixer dance. I told you then it was a sloppy drunkard’s kiss and I’d already decked him for trying it. The ripped dress happened when he tried to grab my arm. I walked home and that was it. But you guys did something to scare the bejeezus out of him. Guy never looked me in the eyes again.” She threw open the door and stomped up to the porch.

  He swore he heard her mutter cavemen as she went.

  She was right. He, Bill and Gage had scared the guy so badly he’d actually wet his pants. The fact that they all had about five inches and thirty pounds on the guy might’ve had something to do with it. But when he’d seen her walk into her house where they’d all been watching football film—her dress torn, lips swollen and cheeks pink from anger—he’d known exactly what had happened and immediately seen red.

  So had the others.

  Then she’d cried. At first they thought it was because she was hurt or the guy had done more than get handsy and kissy with her. Then they realized she was pissed. She’d gone into the kitchen, come out with a bowl of ice water, and shoved her right hand in it, just like she’d seen them do after a football game. Apparently, she’d taken their lessons on how to hit with a fist so your thumb didn’t get broken to heart.

  Tears. Torn dress. Swollen lips. Iced hand.

  Yep. It has all added up to Ryan Tompkins needing a lesson on how to treat a girl, especially one that Deke would do anything to take to a dance. And while they were at it, the three of them had let it be known that no one, no one messed with Libby Wilson. Ever.

  He smiled as he watched her talk with Todd on the porch.

  Making Libby off limits to every other guy in school hadn’t been a bad move on his part. It opened the door for him to date her.

  A moment later, she walked back across the grass, her hips swaying softly and her arms crossed over her chest, pushing her breasts a little higher. The image of her naked except for her panties, and kneeling between his spread thighs earlier in the evening slammed into him.

  “What did Todd have to say?” he asked as she climbed in the truck cab, forcing himself to think of Kyle’s problem and not a nearly naked Libby.

  “I told him what had happened. It took some effort to convince him that Kyle was the injured party here and not the instigator. That he was staying the night at the clinic under Doc Clint’s supervision seemed to ease his worry over Kyle breaking the house curfew rules.” She gave another one of those snorts. “He is such a tight-ass over rules, he probably gets constipated going over the speed limit.”

  Startled, he barked a laugh at her comment. “He’s that bad?”

  “You have no idea,” she said, shaking her head.

  Chuckling still, he pulled out and headed back to her house. “How many residents does old Todd have at the house right now?”

  “Including Kyle, four.” She paused a
moment and he could almost hear her thinking. “Is that who you think might behind the attack on him? One of the other residents?”

  “Do you know anything about them? Backgrounds? History of violence?” he asked, making a left turn onto Main Street again.

  “I’m not supposed to talk about it, but if Kyle’s safety is at risk, I guess I can tell you the general information as to why they’re here,” she said, turning slightly towards him. “The three of them are kind of loners. One just got out of drug rehab. One is there to protect him from his father, the mother is in a women’s shelter near Cincinnati, but her son is too old to be housed there. The last one got caught in an identity fraud case. He was too young to charge as an adult and the courts felt his older brother, who was the ringleader of the group, had pressured him into participating. Kid’s been a straight-A student before and since his arrest.”

  “Are all three from the Cincinnati area?”

  “Nope. One is from Columbus and the other is from over near Youngstown.”

  “So, they have no prior connections. How long have they been at the house?”

  “Our check fraud boy has been there a year. The boy under protection about four months and the other one got out of rehab about six weeks ago.”

  “Not long enough to really become a gang then.” He turned onto Libby’s street, slowing as he came to her drive and pulled in.

  “They could be, but they’ve all had to be employed within the first week of arriving. The rehab graduate has to do a drug test every few days, randomly at Todd’s discretion, so he’s under a tight leash. The check fraud kid has to report to his parole officer weekly and is taking summer courses on top of working to make up what he missed while in the juvenile detention center.”

  “So no time to bond. Little time to plan and attack Kyle.” He shut off the engine and turned to face her. The streetlamp gave them a little bit of light.

  “That’s what I’m thinking. I’ll check with Todd as to what their activities were tonight if you want me to.”

  “Let’s wait. Sounds like those kids in the house have enough on their plate right now without us getting Todd worked up over something that might not be their fault. I have a feeling I’ll be finding out who did this later today.”