by Aria Ford
“Mm,” I nodded. “Good things to do out here.”
“Yeah.” He nodded. “Listen, Darbs. I'm sorry. Okay. Really sorry. I just... I've got a lot to think about, okay?”
“Okay,” I agreed.
I went out after a while, heading to the backyard.
Out in the fresh morning air, I let myself wonder what exactly was bothering Alex.
I remembered a time when he was in college – he went to an exclusive college out of town and I only saw him when term ended – he had been really weird. He'd gone quiet for about a month. He'd never told anyone what happened.
I wonder what happened.
None of us had even the vaguest idea about it. Mom had been worried enough to confide in me that she thought about getting in a therapist. I had been thirteen at the time and not aware enough of anything going on around me to process it.
Now, I wondered if Mom hadn't had a good idea. It was about time I confronted Mom, actually. She had been hovering on the edge of my thoughts, making me feel bad.
I should talk to her. She must be concerned, well she’s my mother after all.
I got my chance later. Alex and Uncle were going round the fields, Aunt was cooking. Mom was in the garden alone. I took my tea out to join her.
“Mom?”
“Darby! Sweetie.”
I sat down with her on the bench.
“Mom, I know I've been weird the last few days,” I began. She shook her head.
“It's okay, Darbs. I know. You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to. I'm not a policeman.”
I laughed. It was what she said when we were kids. The words twisted my heart with bittersweet memory. I wished I was a kid again, suddenly, that life was as simple as whether or not I could go with Claudia to go rollerskating.
“I know,” I said. “I wish I could tell you what was wrong. If I understood it myself, I would,” I promised. “But right now, it's not me I'm worried about.”
“Who, sweetheart?”
“It's Alex.”
“You two!” she chuckled.
“What?”
“You're as bad as each other. He's been concerned for you.”
I shook my head. “We've always been close.”
“Mm.”
I watched her. With a long, narrow face and hair that was pale blonde now, though likely gray, she was delicate and beautiful. I hoped I could be half that lovely when I was sixty. I loved her so much. I wished I could trust her. But she was really posh – the daughter of a highly-respected judge – and the thought of me sleeping with a cowboy would probably have put her in hospital on a ventilator.
“Mom?”
“Mm?”
“Alex. When he was in school... you remember?”
She nodded. “You mean when he went so quiet? Withdrawn?”
“Mm.”
She sighed. “I remember very well.”
“You ever found out what happened then?”
She shook her head. “No. I wish I had. He never told me. Always evaded the question. Why?”
“Because, well... he almost told me about it.”
“Oh?”
I sighed. “I wondered if you could tell me more. Because whatever it was, it's preying on him again.”
“Oh?” Her sweet face crinkled with worry. “That' weird. How come?”
I shrugged. “I wish I knew that.”
“Well,” she paused. “It is odd. I mean, what could possibly have happened out here, to bring it all back?”
“I don't know,” I ventured. “I was wondering the same thing.”
“Well,” she said, “maybe he heard from someone. A college friend or something. Maybe someone reminded him about it.”
“Mm.”
I hadn't thought of that. In my heart, I'd automatically associated it with Jared.
I realized now I was being silly. Why would that be? Just because he was also quiet about the real reason he'd helped Jared! Why would I associate the two things when they'd happened years apart?
“Well,” I sighed. “All we can do is just wait. Maybe he'll tell one of us.”
“Yes,” she said.
We were quiet. Around us, the garden was settling down into late afternoon. I could hear crickets chirping in the long grass near the fence. The trees sighed in the breeze. I felt the peace of the place sink into me and ease my heart.
I stood to go, finishing the dregs of tea left in my cup.
“Darby?”
“Mm?” I frowned.
“Stay safe, huh?” Mom said. “I know I'm not a policeman,” she grinned. “But I do worry about you sometimes. Both of you. Stay safe.”
I smiled at her. “Thanks, Mom,” I said. I squeezed her thin, manicured fingers. “I'll try.”
“Good.”
She looked so delicate, so worried. I wished, once more, that I could really trust her. But I knew this was one part of my life she'd never understand. Never forgive.
Like everyone else around me, she'd be really horrified by my choice in boyfriends. She had never really understood the depth of pain Alan had caused me, and, I think, still harbored fond memories of the time I'd been with him. She had always said he was a highly suitable match for me and I think somewhere in my heart that had damaged the trust I felt for her.
I can't tell her about Jared.
It occurred to me that, just maybe, Alex had some similar reason for hiding his own back-story. The one that involved Jared. The one about his strange month at high-school. Maybe those, too, were things he didn't think mom and her posh family would approve of.
“Come on, Darby,” I said to my reflection in the mirror. I was brushing my hair, getting ready for dinner with the family. “This is Alex. He's not like that.”
Alex would never have done something Mom wouldn't approve of.
No, I decided firmly, whatever it was, it was something else.
Something I'd probably never have to know: all I was worried about was that his current sadness was because of me and Jared. That it was my fault.
When I saw him at dinner, though, he seemed fine. Lively, animated. The Alex we all knew and loved.
I saw Mom looking happy and I caught her eye.
Yes, we were both thinking, whatever it was, it's gone now.
I wasn't going to let it plague me. Whatever was in Alex's past – and Jared's – was no business of mine.
I didn't know why I let it bother me so much.
Alone in my bed later, thoughts of Jared flooded my mind. I knew very well why I let it bother me. And it wasn't just the memories of how his body felt on mine. It was so much more.
It was the feelings he stirred in me.
Protective feelings, caring. Kindness. And something else weird that felt like a torch had been lit in the center of my chest.
I tried to make myself believe it wasn't the start of feelings for Jared. In my heart I knew it was. But I wasn't going to admit that. Not even to myself.
Jared wasn't suitable. I couldn't even tell Mom about it, much less actually expect her to approve of it. And if that was the case, I should walk away from it as soon as possible.
Everything else was just a waste of time. Wasn't it?
“Come on, Darby,” I said to myself, annoyed. “Go back to sleep.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Jared
I tried to call Darby that evening. Her phone was off. I went to sleep restless and sad. I could smell her all over my apartment – the sweet lavender of her perfume. I had gotten to work later that afternoon and tried to explain it away, but I knew the guys all guessed something was up: I never normally looked that cheerful.
Now, the day after, I wasn't cheerful. I was stressed.
It was Sunday – my day off. I woke up later than I usually did, and tried to message her. I had breakfast and fixed the tap in the kitchen, which was leaking. Then I got a message on my phone.
I ran to the bedroom at top speed and grabbed it. It was from Darby. I stared.
/> I just got on the plane back again. I'll miss you. Darby.
“She's left?”
I knew it would happen. But still, it took me by surprise. I felt wounded. Like someone had just stabbed me, hard, in the ribs. She could've said something!
“She didn't tell me yesterday. Why not?”
I knew the answer. It was because she didn't want to have anything more to do with me. She had said that, in other words. I just hadn't heard.
“Dammit.”
Of all the ridiculous, stupid things. The only girl I'd ever fallen for, I couldn't have.
Typical.
That was just the story of my life. I had grown up in a hard way, and why should my life get any easier? What made me think that anything better could open up for me?
“Come on, Jared. Get to the store.”
I sighed. It was Sunday. It was my time to stock up on groceries for the rest of the week. I made a list, checking through the kitchen, the bathroom, the sitting-room, for things I needed. Then I headed to the store. My pickup started making weird noises as I drove into town.
There was something loose under the hood. I knew it. The same damn problem I'd taken it to Maxwell's to get fixed four days ago. I should go and get him to fix it again.
I decided to head straight there.
“Max?” I called out.
“Huh? What?”
He slid out from under a truck, hands black with dirt and grease. His big face was smiling with that weird look that suggested he knew I was here to complain to him.
“It's that damn nut,” I said. “It's loose again.”
“What? No way, man.”
I nodded. He sighed. “Okay,” he said. “I'll have another look. You know what? I should just replace the damn suspension. I know, I know,” he put his hands up as I opened my mouth. “It's pricey.”
“It sure is!” I said, sounding horrified even to my own ears. “But I just can't handle the rattling and the bouncing. You did say it's mended.”
He bit his lip. “Okay. Fine. I'll redo it free of charge. Okay?”
I sighed and nodded. “I appreciate it.”
He said he'd take half an hour and I decided to go for a walk. I was feeling pretty wrecked as it was, and I could do with some time to myself. I walked out of the garage and up the side-walk.
Impulsively, my feet took me toward the place where I'd fought the gang. I felt angry and sad and messed up and I didn't care, in that moment, if they spotted me. I was finished.
I walked past the place and headed further, going along the road until it merged with a farm-track, heading out toward the dusty hills.
I was standing there, staring at nothing, feeling as empty as the big sky. Suddenly, I heard a scuff.
Shoes. Someone walking over.
“You,” a voice said.
I turned round. I was looking at the guy I'd beaten up.
Dammit.
Here I was, stuck in the middle of nowhere, more or less, endangered. The guy was smiling unpleasantly.
I shrugged. “Hey.”
I walked back down the road, heading up to the garage. I wasn't going to let him know I was worried. I sauntered, hands in pockets, slowly. My heart was thumping.
“I said, you.”
He was following me. He reached out and grabbed my shoulder. His face was still a mess – one lip still split, bruising everywhere. The bruising on my face had gone down somewhat, except for the ring of mauve around the eye-socket. His was purple, green and gray.
“I heard,” I said evenly. “So what?”
He spat. “You messed with the wrong gang,” he said. “We'll get you.”
I shrugged. “You'll try.”
Where was this coming from? I wasn't usually arrogant like this. His eyes darkened. He was close, now, close enough for me to see the rage and almost smell it, an iron smell like blood on the air.
“You're dead, man.”
I blinked. “Not really, man.”
He made a fist. I froze where I was. He leaned forward.
“We'll get your girl first. Then you. We're watching.”
I grinned. “She's not my girl,” I said.
“Oh, yeah?”
“Yeah.”
Weirdly, that made me feel good. At least she's okay. I would have hated having her here, in danger.
“Fine. Then we'll get you instead.”
I laughed. “You can try,” I shrugged. I was rolling up my sleeves. Suddenly, he saw it.
The tattoo on my wrist.
It was a gang tattoo. One from my LA street-gang years. I hated it, but I couldn't afford to remove it. I'd considered having it covered up by another, but as yet I had no idea how to change it. If Darby noticed it, she hadn't asked. I was glad.
He was staring at it.
“That's the Marksmen?”
I nodded.
He smiled unpleasantly. “Everyone know you're a Marksman? Hey?”
I laughed. Inside, I was scared. Nobody knew. I tried to keep it out of sight and on the occasions when I couldn't, the people who saw didn't know what it was. Only someone like him would have known. But I wasn't going to let him know.
“What do you think?”
He sneered. “I think no-one does. Well, you know what? Hey, cowboy?”
“What?”
“Everyone will soon.”
I laughed again. This time, I didn't think he was serious. How could he tell anyone? Who'd believe him?
“Sure,” I said. “You go tell everyone.”
His face tightened. “Fine. I will.”
I knew he wasn't ready to fight me – his ribs were pretty bust up, at my guess, and he wasn't going to try hitting me.
This is his next best weapon.
I laughed easily. “Sure. They'll believe you.”
He glared. I grinned, just to infuriate him. I was still smiling as I walked back along the side-walk to the garage.
I must have been frowning when I got there, because Max's eyes narrowed. “Hell, it's okay,” he said. “Nearly done.”
I sighed and sank down onto a temporary seat on an oil barrel. “Fine. I'll wait.”
It took another ten minutes. As I watched Max and his assistant working, my mind was racing hard. I knew the guy didn't mean it. How could he? There was no-one who was going to believe a lowlife like him.
A lowlife like I was.
The thought was a hard one. I looked, without making it obvious, at my wrist. The tattoo stood out proud. I wanted to burn it out myself, to clean it off. But what was the point? He'd seen it.
I'm marked by that past. I should just own it. What does it matter?
I considered telling the guys at work, just as a precaution. If they knew already, maybe they'd go easy on me.
Come on, Jared!
Who was going to find out? No-one.
I was safe. It was an empty threat by an angry man.
I looked up into a smiling face.
“Ready, Jared.” It was Max. He looked, if anything, more relieved than I felt. I nodded appreciatively and stood to shake his outstretched hand.
“Thanks, man.”
I drove out a few minutes later to the grocery store. The engine was quiet and it didn't bounce, shudder or rattle. In a bad day, there was at least one good happening.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Darby
The phone rang.
“Hang on, Jessica,” I said to my colleague. “I just need to answer that...”
Work was hectic. I was busy with a case, trying to fill out some forms, and people kept phoning. I was working flat out.
My mind was still only half here. Half of it was in Wyoming, in a small apartment with 90's decor and a clean, fresh smell. I was missing the landscape. The clean air. And the man with blue eyes and the stunning body who held part of my heart captive through some strange bond I'd never experienced.
“Hello? Miss Gilmore?”