by Leanne Davis
I press the back of knuckles into my streaming eyes. He doesn’t seem to notice I’m crying. I sniffle.
“I could see why you never want to be stuck in anyone’s care again.”
“This doesn’t make me a tragic victim either. I’m not running from anything. I like the way I live. I don’t have any family. This way, I’ve gained tons of friends. Look at that. When I leave here, I’ll have a friend here, right? In you? Hopefully, in Tara and Ryder, too. See? I’ve made my own friends who can be just as good or even better than any family.”
Oh, my God, he might believe his own shit. He thinks he’s okay. That he just found a new way to live. He’s coping to keep from being hurt more. I nod. “Yes. Yes, of course.”
A friend in Ryder and Tara? No. Oh, no. I want to grab his hand and caress his face and say to him, no, Wesley, you don’t want to be friends with Ryder and Tara. You want them to take care of you and protect you. As any adult should have protected you as a little boy being touched and then tortured by a grown woman. Burned with a cigarette! I shudder. Burned! I can’t find the words. The images haunt me. I want to convince him he only wants someone to care about him. Someone to pick up the ragged soul left over from a terrible childhood without the barest sense of normalcy and decency. Without any parents. No adults. No caretaker. No protector. Every child needs a fierce protector.
He rubs his hands together. “Enough of this trip down the memory lane of horrors. Okay? I get it. It’s not normal. I know that. I do actually. I’m sorry, I should have warned you. But it was a long time ago. I’m okay. I’ve made my peace with what happened to me. Really.”
With his above average intelligence, he tries to convince himself that his analytical understanding of the situation has cured his emotional reaction and understanding over what happened to him. Perhaps he believes he can outthink and outrun his pain.
I doubt that he has so far.
I fall quiet and let it go for now. Of course, he doesn’t need to relive his litany of nightly horrors as a child in one sitting. I realize that, but despite what Wesley has already revealed to me, he has opened up so many more mysteries to solve and created new questions to ask.
Why do I care? Why do I need answers to anything about him? He’s a temporary blip in the larger scheme of things. My boyfriend detests him. He’s nothing but trouble if I hang around him, with no great rewards or cause for me to get involved.
Except I find it hard not to react to his scars, his sincerity, and also his isolation.
In a physical contest of beauty, Wyatt and Wesley are on a par, and they’d come out scoring the same, I’m sure of it. I’m used to being with unusually handsome guys. I’ve always felt if Wyatt and I hadn’t grown up together and remained friends, we would not be together now. He’s way out of my league when it comes to looks, and so is Wesley. My interest isn’t so shallow. I’m used to being with a hot, muscled male. I’m used to handsome, breathtaking guys, but looks only goes so far. I care much more deeply about the whole person. I could perhaps care very deeply about Wesley. There is something unforgettable about his past experiences and how he chooses to live and all at such a young age. I’ve never known anyone like him.
But is it worth the consequences of Wyatt’s wrath? I’m sure if he saw us here now, it would only incite him all the more.
When I am dried off enough, I grab my shirt and slip it over my head as the towel drops. The sun is descending rapidly in the sky. “Well, I’m cooled off now, and my next urgent desire has turned to hunger. Want to go scrounge up some dinner?”
“Do you always mooch off the Kincaids?”
“Yeah. Always. I pretty much grew up living at their house half the time.”
We both get to our feet. “Yeah? How so?”
“Tara used to babysit me when I was a kid. My mom died, and Dad had to work. His job hours involved a lot of evenings and late nights, so she brought me over to play with Wyatt and it also helped my dad. He was lifelong friends with Chloe and her family. Wyatt and I grew up together. I spent as much time here as I did at home.”
We’re walking on the trail now. I’m in front as I chatter away, trying to relieve the pressure of my grim discovery and his confession of horrors. I’m still stuck on it. I can’t get my head off the subject even while I chatter on and on about nothing. Anything. Everything. Yet he keeps questioning me as if he’s listening very carefully to me.
“How did your friendship turn into dating?”
“I don’t know, we just started to notice each other differently. You know? We went to a dance together my junior year and it was the first time it felt like something more. Eventually, we admitted our feeling to each other, and we’ve been together ever since.”
“And you work for his mom?”
“I started clearing off tables when I was fifteen for a few hours a week.”
He asked more about Wyatt. And about Chloe. The Kincaids. He seemed as interested and fascinated in hearing about the routine, standard, everyday life I live as I was about the dramatic, heart-wrenching memories he told me about. The house comes into view. There are no vehicles.
“Where does your… Where does Wyatt go when he storms out of here? I assumed it was to your place. But here you are, so…”
“Wyatt, when provoked, does sometimes go to my house. Other times, he goes to different friends’ houses.”
“Friends’ houses? As in the plural?”
I playfully shove him. “Yes, he has friends in the plural. He was one of the most popular guys in our school. Girls envied me when I started dating him. Which was fun. I was quiet, shy, and studious… in general, awkward. Except with Wyatt.”
I shove him and he grabs my hand and kind of swings it back and forth as he says, “You? Quiet and awkward? I can’t imagine that.” I catch his teasing smile.
“Ha ha. Yes, sometimes.” I am mostly awkward anytime Wesley is around. I can’t quite articulate why. I've never been so tongue-tied around a hot guy because I’ve always had Wyatt. I’ve never been intimidated or felt awkward because of any guy. My biggest insecurity is my shyness in groups or in front of a class. I don’t like having the attention focused on me. I am naturally quiet. But the way I respond to Wesley is a whole new category for me.
“Oh, shit. Wyatt’s right there. Shit. I don’t need another go-round. But I have to go inside. I’m sure you gotta go, and you’d better go far away from me.”
I glance toward the house and see Wyatt. He’s leaning against one of the porch posts. His arms are crossed over his chest, and his glare is visible even from this distance. If he were jealous of my friendship with Wesley, I might be more tolerant, but to date, that’s his last concern. Lord, how did I not realize his truck might have been parked inside?
I clutch my towel to my chest, as if I need more protection. Of course, I don’t. I’ve never needed protection from Wyatt and certainly don’t now. When I fell in the barn between them, I thought Wyatt would be sick. He got so upset that I fell. There isn’t an aggressive, mean bone towards any women in Wyatt’s body.
But towards Wesley? That’s another story! I’m walking with damp hair, an instant indicator of what we’ve been up to.
“Hey,” I say, my tone sounding bright and cheerful as we get closer to Wyatt. He leans away, stony-faced before scowling at me, then at Wesley.
Wyatt doesn’t answer me or rise up from his slouch. Wesley and he share a measured look that has me tensing up and getting ready to leap between them again. I almost hope I’ll fall down again if it’ll stop the fighting. But this time, Wyatt doesn’t say a word, and thankfully, neither does Wesley. He slides past him, wearing Wyatt’s shorts, which Wyatt recognizes as his, and his nostrils flare. Oh, crap! I intended to put them in the laundry before Wyatt realized he borrowed them.
“Have a nice swim?” The acid-laced tone is enough to make my stomach quiver.
“It was why I came over today,” I reply, keeping my voice as calm and steady as I can. It’s Wyatt! I can’t be
intimidated by Wyatt. I never have before, not in the fifteen years we’ve known each other. Nor the two years that we’ve dated. “You’re the one who sped off. Again. Leaving me here. Again.”
“So, you decided to have a nice afternoon with the guy that you know I don’t want you to see.”
“I am not part of your feud, Wyatt. I don’t have to be, and you have no right to demand that. That’s not me. You’d know that too if you’d stop being so jealous and calm down about Wesley. He’s actually pretty nice. He isn’t a thief. He’s not going to hurt anyone. And your parents want to help him. Give him a chance. And you know what? He could use it. So, no, I’m not going to be mean because you said I should be.”
Wyatt’s temple ticks. “Why would you give him my clothes to wear?”
“Because I was going swimming. He was here. It’s hot outside. He had no swim shorts. I borrowed yours. It’s not as bad as you’re making it out to be.”
His jaw juts forward.
“Wyatt!” I say, my exasperation coming out louder than I usually speak in an exclamation. “What is your problem? You already went at him once today, and I fell down as a result. Isn’t that enough?”
He stiffens. But there is no releasing the strain in his facial muscles. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“I obviously know that.” My tone softens and I quiet down. “I didn’t get hurt. But you are intentionally confrontational and so awful that you’re all but taking swings at him. You’re going to get into trouble if you don’t stop.”
“I don’t like you hanging around him.”
I sigh and go to the porch. “I’m not going to do this any longer.” I enter the house, ignoring his petulant demand. I’m still damp, and with the air conditioning on inside the house, goosebumps break out all over my skin. “If you keep acting like this, I’m going home. I won’t be coming back, and I don’t have to ask your permission to speak to anyone. It’s your problem, Wyatt, not mine.”
“Dani, wait. I’m sorry. It was so strange walking in and seeing him bonding and shit with my dad. And then with you just now.”
“I work with him! He’s a nice guy. It isn’t much more complicated than that. And you know your dad loves you. Your dad also helps out a lot of troubled youth, and you usually champion that. You don’t try to beat up the kids he helps.”
“Yeah,” Wyatt says, hanging his head. Reaching for me, he brings me to his chest and wraps his arms around me. I sway into his familiar touch. I know this touch, his arms, his chest. All of it is comfortable and right for me.
But then I glance up and notice Wesley on the stairs. He pauses. He obviously started down and then realized Wyatt and I had come in from the porch and were now standing in the living room, talking and embracing. My head rests on Wyatt’s chest, but my gaze locks on Wesley, and I am held captive by his expression. I frown. Cold shudders travel down my spine.
I wish it was just the cold, but it’s not. It’s so not that.
It’s because of the look I’m sharing with Wesley and not the touch of Wyatt. Wesley finally pulls his gaze away. He turns around and silently goes back upstairs until I can’t see him. I breathe easier but feel more disturbed. I push back from Wyatt. Ruffled by my reactions to both of them, Wyatt’s hold and Wesley’s gaze, I can’t find the words to process it. I can’t even explain it to myself. I don’t like it. I’ve always been clear in my feelings. Honest and forthright, and yet that interaction felt anything but. I know I’m hiding something from Wyatt. Lying to him. Yet I’ve said and done nothing. Nothing.
“I’ll work on it.”
“Why does he bother you so much? He’s just a guy your age, who’s down on his luck. We’re fortunate to have had decent families to back us up and support us. Give him a break.”
“I just don’t like my family doing all the backing up and supporting. And mostly, we barely had an introduction to him. I just don’t trust him.”
One day ago, I would have said, “Then trust me.” But I don’t this time. I feel something shifting. I’m confused, and I don’t know what to do. It’s unexpected and unwanted. I say, “You don’t have to trust him, but perhaps you could trust Tara. She understands some of what Wesley has been through. Ryder has, too, on the law enforcement side.” They make an interesting duo with their diverse perspectives. And they make an effective team in judging people and understanding and helping them, where others don’t.
He sighs. “Perhaps.”
“No, for sure,” I insist, sure of my point.
He relaxes, and a tiny smile brightens his face. “I don’t have to like it, do I?”
“No. But you could quit threatening to kill him.”
“I haven’t.”
“Your looks say another story. Your aggression is off the charts.”
“I’ll try to change.”
“I’m sick of this, Wyatt. You won’t talk to me. You’re not acting like yourself anymore. One moment, you promise me one thing, and the next you’re trying to kill a guy that you barely know. It isn’t like you.”
“I just…” he pauses.
I’m getting the first inkling that there is something more than just general fatigue for why he keeps blowing off my questions. There is something. He just won’t say what it is. Why? I can’t explain.
“You just what?” I persist. I need an answer and an explanation why the man I know is no longer here. Maybe it could explain why the man upstairs has managed to take something from me. My attention? My interest? My friendship? God, I wish that was all it was. Just that. Friendship. But something scares me about Wyatt and me. And Wesley and me. I can’t… I just can’t find the words to describe my thoughts. I’m stuck between two, hot, gorgeous, intelligent, funny guys who are so completely different. Yeah, I’m not exactly a femme fatale, so this is hard to fathom.
But then, Wyatt and I can’t seem to get into sync. Not like we did during the last decade. We perfected the first year-and-a-half that we dated. Up until this summer.
He lets me go and flops down on the edge of a chair. “I don’t know.”
Dropping down beside him, I take his hands, and I squeeze one. “Will you tell me when you figure it out? It’s not fair to keep this up. I’m so confused by you and growing unsure. It’s just not fair.”
“I know. I’ll try harder.”
And nothing has changed except I feel emotionally further from Wyatt and in ways I’ve never felt so distant before. We were always close friends as kids, having fun together, even if we were never in the same grade. He was like a big brother to me, until he took me to homecoming during my junior year. Suddenly, he didn’t seem so big-brotherish and fun, protective, or easy. It became much more complicated with deeper feelings. More confusing. But we worked it out and started dating, and it was so easy and right again.
Until now. Now, it feels complicated but for all the wrong reasons. Confusing, big, strange reasons.
Chapter 8
WESLEY
I go downstairs the next morning. Confused after last night, I stayed up in my room only to venture out when Dani left. What was I thinking to start down the stairs when she and Wyatt were still hashing things out? I heard the murmur of their voices and some of what she was saying to her boyfriend. And I had the nerve to go crash it?
I feel like I got socked in the gut when I glance down the stairs into the living room and see them wrapped in each other’s arms. So? Christ, parents hug. Siblings hug. Friends hug. But it pulls me up short.
I don’t like it. My fists clench, and I hate how tiny she looks nestled against him. Him, being her damn boyfriend. The love of her life. Best friend. God, they have such a fairytale romance. There she is snuggled up with her boyfriend! Why am I acting like it’s news? She’s been up front, honest as can be from the very start. Every interaction and every conversation.
That’s probably why I respond so well to her. She is so honest and real. Cute and funny. Sweet and shy. But also opinionated and straightforward. She’s a walking contradiction,
but it’s all so genuine, and the mixture inside her makes it impossible not to like her.
And there she is being held by another guy as I stare at her. Those dark eyes—it feels like they’re electrocuting me and that feeling zaps me all the way down to my toes.
Retreat! my brain flashes at me. If I get kicked out of here, I’ll lose my stuff. My livelihood, my lifestyle.
My heart.
I guess I could start over and buy new stuff to fill a new backpack, but I don’t want new stuff. I want my stuff. Plus, there’s the little threat of jail that would still be hanging over my head. I committed a serious enough crime that I don’t want to get arrested for it. Exhausting. It would be another wasted round of shit with the government.
I’ve had enough abuse from government bureaucracy to last me a lifetime.
She’s gone. Wyatt is at the breakfast table when I come down. Tara is on the couch, Ryder is standing in the kitchen, talking about the boat. God, the man loves his boat. I gather that much. And fishing. And hunting. And all things outdoors. I like all things outdoors, too, but I’ve never done any recreational activities. Mine have been more like an episode of Survival.
I grab a cup, and Ryder pours coffee into it for me. I also feel free to take any food I wish to eat, and no one bats an eye. I feel like I’m part of this now. Sometimes, people have acted nice for an hour or offered me a meal or spent a day with me, but it never lasted. Not for two days or a week or a month, not like these people. They are so steady and even. They interact almost exactly the same way every day.
Every once in a while, emotions run high. Once, Tara was tired, and she snapped at Ryder for forgetting to put the trash out. And Ryder got annoyed when Tara forgot to buy him more deodorant. And Wyatt was being a prick to punish them for not doing something he wanted. Sure, there were moods and arguments along with small discourtesies. But I’ve never seen an entire family with so many people in it behave the same, day in and day out. Their routine was like clockwork, so predictable that I could count on it.