The Edge of You

by Theresa Dalayne

  Son of a bitch. The tip of the bat grazed Wayne’s forehead, but the doorframe took the real force of the blow. The cheap wood trim splintered on impact.

  Wayne stumbled back into the bathroom. His outstretched hands groped for something to catch himself on, and just before he tumbled into the bathtub, he grasped onto the shower rod and stabilized himself.

  The bathroom was barely large enough to fit one person in, let alone two. But Jake was pissed and out for blood. He didn’t believe in hitting a woman, and he’d kill anyone who touched his mom.

  Wayne righted himself, death in his eyes, his forehead trickling blood. More blood was smeared across the pinup model on his shirt. Jake had a feeling that blood wasn’t Wayne’s.

  “You got some balls, boy.” Wayne’s words were slurred and surly. He planted his hands on the walls to keep from falling over. “I’ll give you that.”

  Jake didn’t want to talk. The image of his mom being thrown around like a fucking rag doll played on a loop in his mind. He ground his teeth and gripped the bat even tighter.

  “You gonna do somethin’ with that, or just stand there?” Wayne taunted him, waving Jake toward him. “Let’s go then, boy. You ain’t gonna live past the first swing anyway.”

  Jake’s gaze darted around the narrow bathroom. He wouldn’t have the space to get in a good swing before the fat fuck plowed into him.

  Jake stepped back.

  Wayne lowered his hand, a cocky grin on his face. “You stupid little shit.” He took a step forward. “You think you’re a bad ass, don’cha?” Another heavy step sent Jake’s heart into rapid fire. “You’re all inked up, and that stupid fucking eyebrow ring. You think you’re a big man.”

  He took another step back as Wayne lurched forward. If Jake could get him out of the bathroom, he could finally get in a decent shot.

  His mom moaned, and Jake glanced back at her, still lying on the floor.

  “Your mama ain’t gonna save you this time.” Wayne finally reached the threshold, his hands gripped around the doorframe. “I’m gonna break your fuckin’ neck like the little chicken shit you are.”

  Jake raised his bat.

  Wayne charged.

  He swung as hard as he could, slamming the solid wood into Wayne’s arm.

  He howled and spun to the floor, but it only took a moment for Wayne to push back to his feet. His lip curled, holding his arm. He plowed toward Jake like a train, slamming into him and pinning him to the floor. “You little prick!”

  A solid fist slammed into Jake’s jaw. Darkness clouded the edges of his vision.

  Jake swung his fist and connected with Wayne’s mouth. Blood tricked down the side of his lip. Wayne turned his head and spit out a tooth. With a vicious scream, he slammed his head against Jake’s.

  The blow nearly knocked him unconscious.

  Wayne stumbled to his feet and lifted his good arm to wipe his mouth with the back of his hand. “You broke my fucking arm!” His eyes flickered to Jake’s mom, who had pushed herself to her knees, gripping the side of the bed. “Stupid bitch!” Wayne turned toward her, shouting across the room. “If you just did what you was told, my fucking teeth would still be in my fucking mouth!” He spit more blood onto the carpet.

  Jake rolled onto his side. His efforts were met with a swift kick to the gut. He gasped and nearly gagged. The bat sat feet away on the floor, just out of his reach. His ribs aching, Jake inched his fingers toward it.

  A stream of mumbles and curses poured from Wayne’s mouth as he struggled to tie a T-shirt as a sling for his arm.

  If Jake could just reach the bat—

  A heavy leather boot stepped on the weapon, rooting it to the floor. “You ain’t getting that again.” He kicked Jake’s only defense to the back of the room. Thick fingers grabbed Jake by his shirt and pulled him to his knees. When his eyes finally focused, he stared down the barrel of a gun.

  Wayne pulled back the hammer, his finger curled around the trigger.

  Jake shut his eyes, as everything never had the chance to do reeled through his mind. He was born a bastard trailer trash nobody, and would die without clawing his way out. Just another failure.

  Cold metal pushed against his temple. Jake’s chest jumped, and he gripped the fabric of his jeans, refusing to give Wayne the satisfaction of begging for his life.

  There was a loud crack, and Jake opened his eyes to see Wayne stumble across the room. He slammed into the wall and slid down to the floor, leaving a streak of blood on the wall.

  His mom’s frail frame swayed in the moonlit room, the bat hanging lifelessly in her hand. Her birdlike chest pumped up and down, and she glared at Wayne with the one eye that wasn’t swollen shut. “Stay the fuck away from my son.”

  ***

  Blue and white lights flashed through the windows as Jake gave a statement to the police. “Okay, kid. That’s all we need from you right now.” The officer closed his notepad and tipped his hat.

  The doors to the ambulance slammed shut. His gaze shifted to the flashing lights, then back to the officer. “Thanks a lot.” He rushed out the door, cradling his ribs. “Hey!” Jake pounded his fist on one of the double doors of the ambulance.

  A paramedic opened the door and peered out. With one look at Jake, the thin-framed man waved him in. Jake followed the prompt and took a seat on the long, padded bench and slammed the door shut behind him.

  His mom was asleep, an oxygen mask fit over her face and several IVs in her arm. “Is she okay?”

  “She took a pretty bad beating, but her vital signs are all stable, so I think she’ll be fine.”

  Jake watched a machine spit out what looked like receipt paper with spikes that rose and fell with every beat of her heart. He sagged against the back of the seat.

  The paramedic extended his hand as the ambulance pulled away. “I’m Troy.”

  “Jake.” He shook his hand. “She’s my mom.”

  “Yeah. I heard the cops talking outside.” He let go of Jake’s hand and grabbed some gauze from a drawer under the seat. “How are you feeling? Does anything hurt?” He dabbed a gash on Jake’s arm that he hadn’t even noticed was there. Damn it. That would leave a scar.

  Jake flexed, gauging his body’s reaction. Nearly everything throbbed or ached, especially his ribs. A few were probably cracked, but not broken. He shook his head. “No, I’m fine.” Jake took his mom’s hand, her fingers like ice.

  “You know, that was a pretty brave thing you did, standing up for your mom like that.”

  Jake huffed. “It wasn’t brave.” He could almost feel the cold barrel of the gun pressed against his head. He blinked and swallowed. “I was scared shitless.”

  “Well...” The paramedic grabbed an icepack and snapped it in half, working it with his hands. “A lot of kids would have run.” He extended the icepack to Jake. “Put this on your ribs. It’ll help until we get you to the hospital.”

  Jake took it and pushed it under his shirt, the cold making his muscles contract. He moaned and hunched over, pressing his eyes shut as sharp pain tore up his side. His heart was still racing, even though they were safe and Wayne had been carted off in his own ambulance with a police escort.

  The paramedic rested his hand on Jake’s shoulder. It was a surprisingly comforting gesture. “Everything will be fine. It’s a fresh start for you guys. In a way, this is a good thing.”

  Jake lifted his head. “A fresh start?” The paramedic didn’t seem to notice his softly spoken words. He reached in his pocket and grabbed his phone that he’d retrieved from his car and composed a text.

  Hey Wes. Still have a spot on the boat this summer? My schedule just opened up.

  Chapter Nine

  Maya

  Maya poured some coffee and stood in the kitchen, reading over her class schedule. With twenty-six credits transferred from her old school, and a grant to help her pay for classes—complements of her father’s military career—Maya prepared for her first day as a sophomore, and she didn’t want to be
late.

  She checked the clock, and ditched the rest of her coffee to rush out the door. When she opened it, her dad stood on the porch, searching for the house key in the bundle hanging from his keychain.

  “Hey!” Maya smiled and stepped aside to let him in. It had been almost a week since her dad had last come home.

  He shoved the keys back in his pocket and stepped inside. “Hey honey. Where are you off to?”

  “School.” She rocked forward on her feet, extending the papers to him. “New semester starts today.”

  “Already?” He set his duffle bag down on the hardwood floor in the kitchen.

  Maya pulled back when she caught the scent of fruity perfume. She pressed her nose to the sleeve of her tunic. Maybe it was the fabric softener.

  Her dad yawned. “Well, have a good day. I’m going to shower and get some sleep. Work at the base has been crazy.” Maya watched as he walked toward the stairs, the scent trailing behind him. “Oh.” He dug in his pockets for his keys and tossed them to her. Maya caught them. “Go ahead and take the SUV. Your mom’s going to need the car later for work, and I’m not going anywhere.” He yawned again and lifted his hand in a haphazard wave. “Night.”

  Maya blinked, then rolled her eyes and slipped out the door.

  Just because he smelled like perfume didn’t mean anything. There were probably a lot of women who worked at the base. One of them was wearing perfume, stood too close to her dad, and voila—fruity-smelling dad.

  She climbed in the SUV and started the engine, her gaze drawn to the shark tooth hung on a leather rope, dangling from his rearview mirror. Gracie had given it to him for Father’s Day one year when she found it on the beach. She was so excited, convinced it belonged to a megalodon, even though it was way too small.

  With a deep sigh, she twisted in her seat and backed out of her driveway. Right as she reached the main road, a rusted El Camino sped past, forcing her to slam on the brakes. Maya leaned into the horn. “Watch it, asshole!” She pulled out the rest of the way. The old car turned onto the main road and drove out of sight, leaving a cloud of white smoke that vanished into the air. “You’re lucky I’m in a rush, jerk.”

  A few minutes later she parked in front of her new school and rushed into the building. Standing in the main foyer, she read through her schedule. Students pushed past her, whispering or shouting, some standing in small groups while others seemed half-asleep.

  “It’s the new girl.”

  Maya lifted her head and glanced around, but couldn’t pinpoint who said it in the crowd. Whatever. They probably weren’t even talking about her. Not like she was the only newcomer to Kodiak…right?

  She recollected her thoughts and examined her schedule. “Okay. Early Childhood Development.” She turned around and was shoulder checked by some guy not looking where the hell he was going, scattering her handful of papers onto the floor.

  “Oh, shit. Sorry.” He bent down and picked them up.

  Maya snatched them out of his hand, pissed, but too preoccupied staring at the guy’s eyes to yell at him.

  She’d never seen eyes so blue.

  When she didn’t say anything, he shifted back. “I, uh. I have to go. Sorry.” He turned and walked away.

  Maya’s gaze dropped to his ass under a pair of light wash jeans, half-covered by a grey and orange Volcom hoodie. The guy glanced over his shoulder. Maya immediately spun around.

  Well, there were worse things in life than getting caught checking out some guy’s ass.

  She continued to her first class, then her second. Thankfully she only had half-days, making her third class her last.

  And her favorite.

  Maya walked toward the back of the art room, the concrete floor hard under her feet. Long, foldout tables were set up in a giant square along the walls. In the center was an empty platform, probably used for live model sculpting or painting.

  Maya found a seat in the back and settled in. The air carried the familiar scents of turpentine, paint, and...donuts?

  She searched the room to see the same guy who bumped into her, scarfing on a glazed donut. His dark brown hair curled from under a grey beanie, the ball bearings of his eyebrow ring glinting in the light as he chewed. Her throat tightened. He was even better looking from a distance.

  He raised his gaze, immediately meeting hers. She half-smiled. He watched her for a moment, not smiling or frowning.

  Maya shifted her weight.

  The art professor stood from behind his desk, grabbing Maya’s attention. “Hi everyone.” The tall, lanky man stepped around the side of his desk. “My name is Mr. Stuart, and I’ll be your art professor this semester.” He pushed his glasses up to the bridge of his nose. “Today is day one, so I’m going to see what you all are capable of.”

  Maya checked out the blue-eyed guy a second time. He had finished his donut and was now focused on the teacher.

  She didn’t mean to stare, but, wow. The sharp angle of his jaw made her forget every California guy she’d ever called eye candy.

  “Grab a piece of paper,” the professor continued, “and choose your preferred method of creation. Make something that will impress me.” The professor sat back down behind his desk. “You have ninety minutes.”

  The classroom filled with chatter as Maya rose from her seat and approached the acrylic paints. She scanned the colors and gathered them in her arms.

  The guy moved to stand beside her, checking out the paints like they were extraterrestrial. Maya couldn’t help but grin. “Not familiar with acrylics?”

  He examined the row of bottles she was holding. “No, but I have a feeling you know exactly what you’re doing.”

  She shrugged. “It’s kind of my thing.”

  “I can see that.” He plucked a puke-colored green from the pile. “Maybe I’ll give it a shot.”

  Maya crinkled her nose and took the bottle from his hand. “Not that one. It’s muddled.” She picked a few bottles of primary colors and handed them to him. “Start with the basics. If you need help, there’s an empty seat next to me.” Maya tried not to smile when he took her up on her offer and followed close behind her.

  “You’re new here.”

  “And you’re not the first person who’s noticed.” She glanced over her shoulder. “Is it that obvious?” Maya found her seat and spilled the pile of paints onto the table.

  “It’s a small town.” He pulled the seat out beside her and sat, leaning back in his chair while staring up at her.

  Those blue eyes again.

  She sat and organized the paints in a row, dark to light. “So does the whole town know I’m here?”

  “Probably.” He chuckled and extended his hand.

  She wrapped her hand in his. His hands were callused, but he had a strong grip. “I’m Maya, by the way.”

  “Jake.” He pulled his hand back and leaned forward, propping his forearms on the table. “So what are we painting?”

  “We?” She picked up a slanted brush, loading it with dark brown. “I’m painting a mountainside.”

  Jake grabbed an abandoned piece of paper from beside him and a straight edge paintbrush. “I’m thinking, a snake. Or a worm.”

  Maya smiled. “You mean a squiggly line?”

  “Exactly.”

  Maya dragged her brush over the paper, making thin, vertical lines, then set it down and chose a fan brush. Hunter green would work, though she noticed most of the trees on Kodiak weren’t that dark. A few strategically placed strokes over the brown trunks would make great spruce trees.

  “There,” he said. “Done.”

  “Already?” Maya picked up her brush and looked at Jake’s painting—a grey streak across the paper with solid red eyes and a forked tongue, painted in electric blue. She raised her eyebrows. “What is that?”

  “It’s a snake.” He set down the brush.

  “Sorry to break it to you, but that is not a snake.”

  “What? It’s an endangered species.”

  Maya
giggled. “More like radioactive.”

  He grinned, revealing the dimple in his right cheek. “Yeah. I guess so.”

  Mr. Stuart walked behind them, lingering beside Maya. He leaned forward, inspecting her painting with his face tilted up and his glasses rested on the tip of his nose. “That’s quite good. You’re an experienced artist.”

  Maya turned in her seat. “I don’t know if I’d say I’m experienced, but I love to paint.”

  Her professor nodded. “Nice to have an enthusiastic student in class. I look forward to seeing what else you create this semester.”

  Maya smiled. She may not be in her art institute anymore, but it was nice the local art professor recognized her talent. The professor continued around the rest of the class, peering over students’ shoulders as they painted and drew with charcoal.

  “Funny,” Jake said. “He didn’t say anything about my snake.”

  Maya snickered. “Well. I think it’s...” She pursed her lips, trying to find something to say that wouldn’t be totally insulting.

  “Hideous?”

  Maya snorted. “Yeah, kinda.” She shrugged. “Sorry.”

  Jake leaned toward her, inspecting her painting. “Wow, he was right. You’re talented.”

  Her belly fluttered. “Thanks.” It wasn’t normal for her to feel so nervous around a guy. Most of the time she was pretty confident, but somehow he unsettled her in a first crush kind of way.

  “So.” He sat back in his chair. “Why did you leave...”

  “California.” She picked up another brush and filled out some of the trees. “My dad is in the Coast Guard. When he was relocated, I decided to move with them.”

  “How do you like it so far?”

  “It’s small. And...” She paused, and then turned her entire body toward him in her chair, resting her hands on her knees. “Honestly,” she said in a low tone, “I’m about to go nuts. There’s nothing to do here, and it’s too cold to go swimming. I miss spending time outside, but all the beaches here have rocky, black sand that hurts my feet. There are no malls, no big stores except Wal-Mart, and one movie theater that’s been playing the same thing for like two weeks.”