“She’s not going to be happy,” he continued. When is she ever happy? I thought. “I’m giving you this, Brooke, but you will be home for Christmas. Understand?”
Rolling my eyes, I said, “We’ll just have to see, Daddy. I’m really involved with my charity work, and my time would best be spent helping out the needy rather than living in luxury back home. Don’t you think?”
“I’ve got to go,” he informed me, his voice hard. “I have a meeting. We’ll talk about this later. I fully intend to check out these charities you’re so involved in.” With that warning, the phone clicked. End of conversation. Shit. I made quick work of finding a phonebook and looking up food pantries, churches, and safe houses in hopes of finding a charity that needed help this Thanksgiving.
I would go back home just as soon as I could stomach the thought of seeing Dylan with another girl. I wasn’t naïve; I knew the possibility of running into him also meant that he might not be alone. I wasn’t ready for that just yet.
November, Thanksgiving Day
Thanksgiving at my house wasn’t your typical family function. My dad deep-fried a turkey on the back porch, drinking beers with guys from his work who didn’t have anyone. Jase and I watched football while Dana whipped up side dishes and commented on how stupid she thought the game was. We were a band of misfits, all abandoned by those we loved. For Dana, my dad, and I it was our heartless mother who’d killed herself to escape her life—us. For Jase, it was his alcoholic father who decided beating on his son was a fun activity. He never talked about it, having distanced himself from his pa a couple years ago, but I knew when the holidays rolled around, it bothered him to think he didn’t have a family to share them with. He was wrong, though; he was my family.
“Want another beer?” I asked Jase, standing up. As I collected the empty bottles, I realized I did it more out of habit than care. Even after all these years, my mother’s complaints about having a dirty house stuck with me. It was almost as though I could hear her bitching about the clutter.
“Yeah, I’ll have another,” Jase replied absentmindedly, his eyes glued to the game. As I made my way into the kitchen, I dropped the empties into the trashcan and headed toward the fridge for more. Dana had music playing from her iPod, her head swaying as she sang softly. Moving behind her, I leaned in close to her ear and said, “Boo.” Her entire body jumped and black olives went flying over her head, bouncing off the kitchen floor. Laughing hard, I bent at the waist and tried to catch my breath.
“Damn it, Dylan,” she snarled, “I almost cut myself, you jerk.”
My amusement faded just like that. Standing, my eyes caught on the knife in her hand, and I instantly felt like a dick. Had I known, I never would have scared her.
“You didn’t, did you?” I set the beers on the counter and came closer to inspect my sister’s hands. Some thought Dana’s and my relationship was strange, being so close, but from the moment I’d found my mother’s bloody body, I’d vowed I would look after Dana the way my mother never had. I knew what could happen to girls from broken homes; I had screwed a lot of them. There was no way in hell I was going to let our dark past ruin Dana’s future. I was the reason she was in college. I lectured her repeatedly about making something of herself, getting a good education that would lead to a good job. If I had anything to say about it, Dana wouldn’t rot in this god-forsaken town, married to a blue-collar husband who could barely provide for her and their kids. Dana’s life would be better than the life that led to my mother killing herself.
“I’m fine,” she said, pulling her hand away from me. “Check to see if someone has a knife in their hands before you scare the shit out of them.”
I held my hands up in surrender. “Deal. Next time I will check for weapons before I make you pee your pants.”
Dana scoffed. “You didn’t scare me, your smell did.” She wrinkled her nose, a line forming between her eyes. “When was the last time you bathed?”
Looking down at myself, I took in my greasy pants, shirt, and boots. Jase and I worked at the shop today, trying to get caught up on a couple cars we were behind on. But I knew Dana’s reference to my scent was teasing. I smelled just fine.
“Guess who I saw the other day?”
“Who?” I picked the beers back up and was on my way back to the living room when Dana’s reply stopped me in my tracks.
“Brooke Kingsley. We sorta ran into each other. She was coming out of a building, and I was going in.”
“So?” I remarked a little harder than necessary. I hadn’t thought about Brooke for almost two weeks. Her memory was fading just like I knew it would, and I was happy about that. I was so pissed at Dana for bringing her back up.
“Sooo …” Dana drawled, adding chopped olives to some salad she was making. “She asked about you, and I thought you might want to know.”
“Well, I don’t, okay? Why the hell would I care if Brooke asked about me?”
Dana whirled around, crossing her arms and glared at me. “Oh, I don’t know, maybe because you actually like her.”
Wanting to avoid this conversation after finally ridding my mind of Brooke, I turned to head back to the living room. Dana wasn’t going to let me escape that easily though. She followed right behind me.
“You don’t even want to know my thoughts or what she said?”
“Nope.” I popped the top on my beer and took a long swallow.
“Who said what?” Jase asked, dragging his gaze away from the television.
“Nothing,” I said through tight lips. “Leave it alone, Dana.” I glared a warning at my intrusive sister, wanting to wring her neck for bringing up the girl I’d just gotten over.
“Brooke Kingsley,” Dana continued, ignoring my death stare. “I ran into her the other day,” she told Jase. “She asked about Dylan, and now he’s flippin’ out.”
Jase eyed my face then looked up at my sister. “Yeah, maybe leave this one alone, Dana.”
“Why are men so damn stubborn?” Dana stalked off toward the kitchen again, and I felt my body release its tension and sag in on itself.
“Just so you know,” Dana said from the doorway, “I don’t think she’s over you either.”
And just like that, I craved Brooke again. Son of a bitch!
December
I stood frozen on the sidewalk, people behind me complaining and moving around me. All I could do was stare at the navy truck parked along the curb and the achingly handsome boy leaning against it. I knew him well, knew the roughness of his hands on my body, the heat of his mouth on my neck. I had gazed into his eyes countless times, losing myself—and a little bit of my heart—each time. My ears had memorized his laugh, and my eyes, his smile. A rush at seeing him again traveled the length of my body, my lungs constricting painfully. Our last memory together had been in the very truck he leaned against. My eyes flicked to the bed, remembering how that night it had felt like a sanctuary. Flashes of the memory filled my head: the heat of his body against mine, the look in his eyes as he looked down at me, the way he kissed me slow and deliberate as though needing to prolong the night. I’d been his for the taking since I first laid eyes on him. That night he’d not only claimed my body, but my heart. It hadn’t been the same since Dylan Crawford.
Dylan’s head turned slowly in my direction, his eyes roaming past me for a split second as though not realizing whom he was seeing. When his gaze doubled back and landed on my face, I felt my eyes blur with tears and a small smile crease my lips. I hadn’t realized just how much seeing him again would affect me. I imagined what it would be like to wrap my arms around his neck, nuzzle his throat, and smell his skin. The need was so strong I could almost feel the pressure of his strong arms around my waist as he clasped me to him.
He took a step forward, and I held my breath, wondering how he would react to me. Would he treat me like an old friend, or be awkward and avoid the truth of what was between us? I didn’t think I could handle it if he treated me like his other casual hookups. B
efore he could reach me, Dana stepped into our line of sight and broke the connection. I smiled to myself and looked down at the leaf-littered sidewalk. When I looked up, Dylan’s eyes watched me over his sister’s head. I turned away and headed in the opposite direction.
“What happened between you two?” Dana asked, looking over her shoulder at where Brooke walked away. The few times I’d visited Dana, I’d seen Brooke and kept my distance. I coveted that girl, wanted her more than anything I’d ever experienced, but I knew letting her go was the best thing for her. That last night together was the only taste of heaven I’d ever get. For a sinner like me, a taste was more than I deserved. I still didn’t understand what it had been about me that grabbed a girl like Brooke Kingsley’s attention. She knew my reputation, and still she had willingly come to me, allowed me to hold her, touch her, take her innocence. I no longer believed I was just a rebellious phase she had gone through. If that had been the case, she would have waved our relationship in her father’s face in hopes of getting a reaction out of him. Over few months, I had reflected on what transpired between the two of us, trying to understand it.
I was still staring down the sidewalk when I felt Dana’s eyes on my face. Looking down, I shook my head at her question, not wanting to open that can of worms with my little sister. I hadn’t told anyone about what’d happened between Brooke and me, and I never would. She was just as much my secret as I was hers. Not because we were ashamed of each other, but just the opposite. We had shared a connection most wouldn’t understand. I’d felt it from the first moment I saw her in high school. Back then I had ignored the strange pull I had toward her, assuming I was being my normal dick self and just lusting after another pretty girl. I was too young to realize this particular emotion didn’t stem from my cock’s desires. She held a peculiar allure within her eyes, as though they spoke when her mouth was too nervous to. I’d seen her thoughts race through them in the halls at school, and every time after whenever she looked at me. She saw me in a way I would never see myself. For someone like me, that look was intoxicating. I craved her acceptance, the rush it fed my confidence. I felt worthy when I saw myself through her eyes. No other girl had ever looked at me as though I were more than what I was. Although brief, she would always be the best thing to happen to me.
All over campus, students rushed to their cars, suitcases in hand. Today was our last day before winter break, and soon the school would feel like a ghost town. I hadn’t been home since I left. My parents weren’t too happy with me for not following the path they had laid out for me. The last time I’d talked to my mama, she’d tried to guilt me for not joining her sorority. My daddy lectured me on not reaping the benefits of his extensive knowledge. I hadn’t joined the charity group he insisted on, so in his mind my portfolio was doomed. I wondered what he’d think when he heard I didn’t plan to transfer to Yale or Harvard and become a lawyer.
For Christmas, my parents were going to Vail with Lily’s and James’s parents. They had invited me, but I came up with an excuse, claiming I needed to do some research around town for an assignment. I couldn’t vacation with James and Lily and pretend everything was how it had always been. One of the biggest things I’d learned was that everyone had their own path. Lily’s had taken her into the world I wanted to escape. She was still that same rich girl from a small Southern town, while I was … seeing the world with open eyes. Dylan had a lot to do with that. I’d experienced something with him that all the money in the world couldn’t buy. It was real—more real than anything I’d seen from those around me. I’d never seen my daddy look at my mama the way Dylan did me. Even with Lily, the only times her eyes lit up with her boyfriend was when he bought her something expensive. I supposed that wasn’t her fault, though; our parents showed their love through gifts. In her mind, Brandon buying her gifts was the equivalent to him pouring his heart out. It was sad and sickening that I’d been just as shallow and brainwashed once.
I’d just gotten back to my apartment when my cell phone rang. I frowned at seeing my father’s name on the screen and hesitated answering it.
“Hello?” I said cautiously.
“Brooke.” My daddy’s stern voice filled my ears, and I readying myself for the guilt trip he was about to give me.
“Hey, I was just heading out to do some research at the library,” I lied. “Can I call you back later?” We both knew I wouldn’t call him.
“No, you cannot,” he snapped. “Something has happened.”
Silence.
My heartbeat echoed in my ears, my breath laboring out of my lungs.
“What … happened?”
“It’s your mama,” he said, his voice grave. “She’s in the hospital.”
“Guess what happened while you were picking Dana up?” Jase said, joining me at the kitchen table. I took a big bite of my sandwich, chewing and waiting for him to spill it. Sometimes he was just as bad as the gossipy women in this town.
“Brooke’s mama was in a wreck,” he continued, his face more serious than I’d seen it in a long time. “My brother says she was drunk, ended up crashing into a tree out on Route 6.”
Kent, Jase’s brother, worked as an EMT. He would know the details, which meant Jase was telling the truth. I thought about Brooke and how she was handling the news.
“Is she going to be okay?”
Jase shrugged. “Don’t know. She was out cold when they brought her to the hospital. Kent said she had a fifth of vodka in her lap, and the car reeked of alcohol. I wonder if they’ll try to pay my brother to keep his mouth shut. We all know how the Kingsleys like to bury their secrets.”
“That’s not cool, dude. Brooke’s mom could die, and you’re joking about a payoff?”
“Who’s joking?” Jase mumbled under his breath.
I was used to his dick moments, but this time it pissed me off. Sure, the Kingsleys were shallow and pompous, but they were still Brooke’s parents. Honestly, the only reason I cared what happened to Mrs. Kingsley was because it would affect Brooke. Jase might have known I was into her, but he didn’t know the extent of it—nobody did. Had he known, maybe he wouldn’t have made such a cold statement.
“What crawled up your ass?”
I picked up my paper plate and tossed it into the garbage can. “Nothing. I’m heading out. If Dana stops by, tell her I’ll be back later.”
Ten minutes later, I parked outside Brooke’s house just as I had our last night together. Her car sat in the drive, and a light in one of the upstairs bedrooms was on. I stared at the glow, wondering if Brooke was behind the curtain. I wanted to talk to her, see how she was doing, but I’d deleted her number a few months after she left—too much temptation sitting in my phone. So many times I’d thought about calling her. The memory of her voice was fading from my mind. Every time her face popped into my head, I couldn’t hear the sweet melody of her tone. No matter how many times I replayed our conversations, I could never pin down her voice. Luckily, her sweet face was still crystal clear. I still had our pictures on my phone, pulling them up every now and then to relive the memory of her.
“Fuck it,” I mumbled to myself. Starting my truck, I pulled into her drive and drove until I came to her house. I walked up her porch, taking it slow as my inner voice told me this was stupid. We hadn’t talked in so long, and to just show up, at her door no less, was rash.
I raised my arm and rapped twice on the door. Scrubbing a hand over my face, I took a step back and waited. It was funny how time dragged on and on when you were waiting for something. The months Brooke had been gone had felt like years. Each day crawled by so slowly that sometimes I thought I’d go out of my mind with madness. I went to work, came home. I went out with Jase, drank, and hooked up with girls now and then, only to come home to the bed that still held the memory of Brooke. Even the bed of my truck was soaked with her memory.
I’d lived these past months in a haze of monotonous routines and numbness. So many times I wished I’d approached her sooner, had the balls
to claim what I wanted and not worry if her parents thought I was good enough. After a while, I grew bitter the longer her face haunted me. No girl had ever held power over me. No girl had ever gotten under my skin so quickly. I couldn’t begin to explain the connection I had to Brooke, but after analyzing every small detail, I settled on the fact that some things weren’t meant to be understood. Not everything needed a logical explanation to make it real. I knew, without a doubt, my feelings were just as real as the beating of my heart.
The front door slowly opened, and I lifted my eyes to find … Mr. Kingsley. I hadn’t been expecting him to be home. His car wasn’t in the driveway. A scowl instantly marred his face, his eyebrows drawing together as he glared at me.
“You’re that Crawford boy.” It wasn’t a question.
“Yes, sir, I am,” I said politely. “I heard about your wife and wanted to stop by to see if Brooke was okay.”
“What business is it of yours how my daughter is doing?”
What was I supposed to say to that? We stared at each other for a long moment and, as the silence built, I saw the furious revelation light his eyes. It wasn’t a secret the type of man I was. Everyone in town knew I was notorious for hopping from bed to bed. Had she been my daughter, I would hate me, too.
“You stay away from Brooke,” Mr. Kingsley snapped. “Do you hear me? We have enough on our plate without a piece of trash like you cashing in on it.”
He was right; I was trash. I’d heard my mom say the exact same thing when I was younger. She hated her life, the expensive things my father would never be able to buy her and the two children she had with him.
“Just because we’re trash doesn’t mean our house has to look like a dumpster,” she had said as she stomped around the house. Just under her breath, she’d whispered, “Fuckin’ kids ruined my life.” Our house was never messy because Dana and I made sure to pick up in fear of sending Mama into another one of her rants. Dana was too young to understand why our mom was always upset. It wasn’t just a sock on the floor or a dish in the sink that ticked her off; it was the concept that she would never be able to afford the things she wanted. She and my dad would always live paycheck to paycheck.
Turning Home (A Small Town Novel) Page 15