by S. L. Scott
I turn down the music like an idiot when I see the fancy motorcycle parked on the side of the house. “I heard he rode a motorcycle.”
Billy finally turns to me. “What are we doing, Delilah?”
Shaking my head, I reply, “I have no idea.”
“Better think fast because Jason just came around to the front of the house.”
“Oh, shit.” I duck, the top of my head hitting his leg. “Don’t stop.”
“Too late. He’s looking at me. What am I supposed to do?”
“Gun it home, Billy. Don’t let him see me.” I hit his leg. “Why are you slowing down?”
“He’s coming toward the truck. I can’t just leave him in a trail of dust.”
“Yes, you can.”
“Hey,” Jason says, his voice with some distance from the truck. My heart beats heavy in my chest, and I close my eyes, savoring the sound of hearing him again.
“Hey. Looks like you’re settling in,” Billy says.
“Yeah, doing what I can to help my mom out.” God, he was always so good to his mom . . . to me. “Want to come in and have a few beers, catch up?”
“I need to drop some stuff off at the farm before it gets too late, but I can come by later.”
“That works,” Jason replies. The truck starts the slowest roll forward ever just as he adds, “Bye, Delilah.”
My breath stops in my throat, my eyes squeezed closed as I pray for Billy to end this torture. “Bye,” I mutter, mortification washing through me.
“See ya, man,” Billy says. The road is bumpy when he pulls away, the rocks grinding under the wheels. Touching my shoulder, he starts laughing. “You can sit up. We’re in the clear.”
I sit up, fresh air whipping through the window and my hair. Turning to him, I pop him in the arm. “Remind me never to rob a bank with you. You’re not exactly stealth.”
“You’re too good to rob a bank, but also, I’m very stealthy. Jason’s just intuitive when it comes to you. There’s no sneaking around when it comes to him.”
“Can we not talk about him, his intuitiveness, or what just happened, please?”
He twists an imaginary key to his lips and then tosses it out the window. That lock can’t hold. I know Billy too well. I also see that goofy grin he’s wearing. “You do remember that we have to pass back by, right?”
Crap. He’s right. It’s the only way back to my farm. I won’t hide this time despite how his voice made me feel—holy damn! His voice is one thing, but seeing him is a whole other thing. I’m not prepared. My jaw slacks open, and Billy reaches over to close my trap. “You might want to wipe the drool.”
I don’t have it in me to hide my reaction from him, though.
Jason Koster was incredible-looking back in high school and college, but now . . . he looks like a model from a magazine. His dark hair is long enough to lie to the side, but short enough to think that’s the style he chose. A heavy dusting of stubble shadows his jaw while the intensity of his eyes pierces me, pinning me to the seat. And holy all that is great in this world, why does he have to be shirtless? Good God, I have great memories of his athletic body, but damn, how is it possible to be even better now?
“How should I know? Guess he works out,” Billy replies, shrugging.
Crap. “Did I just say that out loud?”
He chuckles. “You did.”
Jason’s standing with a hose, watering his mom’s lawn when we drive by. With a raised hand, he waves as we drive by, the water spraying high into the air. “So showy and phallic.” I wriggle on the leather, tugging on my seat belt to make sure it’s nice and tight.
“Now, that’s where I draw the line. Don’t put me between yours and Jason’s pent-up sexual tension.”
“What? No. That’s not what I meant at all. It’s like—”
“I don’t want to know what it’s like.” He pinches the bridge of his nose. “Can we end this?”
“That’s what I’ve been saying.” Jason already knows I’m in here, so there’s no point in hiding. He’s wearing that stupid grin that used to do my heart in every time I saw it.
My heart doesn’t swell, but it does still flutter for the man. Why does he have to be so damn attractive? I roll my eyes, making my own show of things, and look in the opposite direction.
Petty?
Sure.
Immature?
Definitely.
I just . . . I don’t know how to feel about him being back, much less waving to me like we’re old acquaintances who left on friendly terms. We didn’t, so a second chance at anything—friendship or love—isn’t going to happen.
Stopped at the light at Main, Billy looks across the cab at me. “That was awkward.”
“It sure was.”
The light turns green, and as he shifts his truck into gear, he adds, “Why do I feel like this town just got a whole lot smaller?”
I have the same feeling . . .
4
Jason
Roosters crow in the distance as I walk around the back of my mom’s house to inspect it. She’s almost paid it off, but I’ll help her out since she wants to live here for the rest of her life. I need to make sure it’s in good shape for the long haul.
My mom’s been the one constant in my life. When I graduated from college, though, I didn’t look back. Well, I didn’t look back until thirty-six hours ago. I drove away from Kingwood Manor at peace with my role in that situation. It was a job, but it stuck with me. I’m aware of every choice I’ve made over the years, and I have found peace after getting a paycheck. But that one, that last job, and the friends I made, the family they became in a way, have stuck with me.
Even a good night’s sleep, last night being one of the better ones in quite a while, can’t erase what I’ve done. That’s why I need to be here, grounded in the place with people who bring me back to simpler times.
Seeing the sun’s rays shining over the roofline reminds me of Delilah, my Rae of sunshine, and I grin. She’s not so sneaky, hiding in that truck like I wouldn’t see her. Billy got caught up helping his dad at the farm and couldn’t split a six-pack last night, but I have every intention of getting the details of that drive-by out of him soon.
Kicking a loose board on the side of the house with the toe of my boot, I mark it to replace and move to the front. As I keep checking for loose boards, I can’t keep my mind off Delilah, though. And the honeysuckle bush growing wild at the corner of the porch doesn’t help. Honeysuckle . . .
Delilah has spent the better part of an hour creating a floral halo, and the flowers grace her head like a crown. Her beauty is what drew me to her, but her heart—so open and loving—has me wanting to marry her.
Hovering above my head, she’s upside down and smiling at me. “What are you doing, Jason?”
“Watching you.” Lying on my back, I reach for her. “C’mere.”
She moves around and kneels next to me. Plucking a flower from the wreath in her hair, she says, “Want some nectar?”
“Thought you’d never offer.”
The flower is between her fingers when she starts to gently pull it away from the stem. I lift to rest on my elbows and watch as a satisfied smile appears. But when she offers the nectar to me, I say, “You taste it first, and then I’ll taste you.”
My favorite pink—Delilah blush—covers her cheeks. She has my full attention as I watch the nectar touch her tongue. Then she teases, her eyes on me, her lips tantalizing. I sit the rest of the way up and run my hand through the back of her hair. “My honeysuckle.” I kiss her, tasting her honey mixed with the flower’s sweetness.
. . . The screech of the screen door cuts through the mire of my thoughts. “Are you hungry?” my mom calls.
“Sure am.”
“C’mon. I made eggs and bacon.”
I add the front steps to my list. They need replacing before I leave again. Inside, I wash my hands and am told to sit at the table. I’m served a glass of apple juice. It’s just like old times, which
makes me smile. I could really use a cup of coffee but don’t ask for it. My mom wants to serve her son, and I’m happy to play that part for a few days.
She sits down after setting a plate in front of me. I take a big bite and then look up. “Are you not eating?”
“I ate while I was cooking.” She smiles, but I recognize that look in her eyes. It’s the one that’s usually followed by a compliment that I probably don’t deserve, like how proud she is of me or how handsome I’ve become. Mom stuff. I’d hate for her to know who I really am on the inside. Elite security isn’t usually a parents’ chosen profession for their kid, considering the dangers of it.
I’m about to take another bite, but it’s time we talk. I set my fork down and swallow some juice. “Let’s do this so we can get past it.”
She’s always direct. I like that. I’ve been called direct, and I guess I got it from her. “Are you going to see her?”
Okay, not where I thought this was going. “You want me to drive over to the farm and just walk up those steps like I have business there? Mom, she’s married.”
“She’s not married.”
I hear the words, but they don’t make sense. “What are you talking about?”
Resting her arms on the table, she sighs. “She’s not married, Jason.”
“But you told me—”
“Well,” she starts while fiddling with the loose threads of the placemat, “she was married then. Now she’s not.”
I get up for coffee. Apple juice isn’t strong enough for this conversation. If it weren’t seven fifteen in the morning, I’d be filling this mug with whiskey. With my back to her, I can feel the tension behind me as I fill the mug with hot coffee. I look back over my shoulder. “They’re separated?”
“Divorced.”
I lean on the counter, my palms pressing into the tile as I stare down at the stained grout. Mentally, I add this to the list of things to fix, right after I add Delilah Noelle. I don’t think that can be fixed by a visit to the hardware store, but it’s tempting to find out.
She says, “Finalized two months back. They separated more than a year ago. She’s out on that farm by herself again. Cole moved across town to a rental behind The BBQ Shack.”
“Why are you telling me this? I’m not going to be here long enough to spend my time thinking about the past.”
“I think you already are. I also think she might be the reason for this spontaneous visit.”
“She’s not.” Turning to face her, I cross my arms defiantly over my chest and lean my ass against the counter. “I thought she was married.”
My mom shrugs. “Call it kismet. I think something inside you was unsettled, and we both know the best way to get settled is to visit the one that caused the uproar in the first place.”
“I’m not visiting her. We left on bad terms.” That’s not how it went down. She left me. She left me with no explanation. But I’m not one to throw someone under the bus.
“You left on bad terms. She’s been here all along, and if I know her at all, which I feel I know her pretty well after all these years, I think she’s been waiting for you to return.”
“She was married, Mom. The very definition says she wasn’t waiting for me, so why fill my head with this nonsense? We both know I won’t be here long, and adding that crazy back into my life won’t turn out well for anyone.”
She stands and walks around the table. “You’re caught up in your anger and your pain. I understand, and I wish I could take it away, but that doesn’t change the fact that I know you still care about her.” With her mug in hand, she heads for the back door. “You know the truth now. You’re the only one who gets to decide how you use it.”
Before she leaves, I ask, “What about kids?” Fuck, why’d I even ask?
Looking back at me, she smiles. “What about them?”
“Just tell me.”
“No,” she replies, shaking her head. “No kids.” Pushing the screen door open, she leaves, the door slamming shut behind her.
Delilah Rae Noelle isn’t married. Not having any kids also surprises me. I don’t have anything against the little humans. I dated a woman with two cute ones. But it takes a lot to step into the dad role. I wasn’t ready to settle down at twenty-three, and the job ended, so I had to go. But I find some serious satisfaction that the world is safe, for now, from Cutler’s offspring.
Despite the adrenaline rushing through my veins in an attempt to move my feet toward that door and drive out to the farm, my grip on the counter tightens. “No. I can’t get tangled up when I’m here to untangle some of the mess I’ve made of my life.”
Why am I talking to myself? Fuck. This town is already messing with my head. I grab a few more bites of breakfast, shove my list into my back pocket, and head out to the bike.
My mom comes out and tries to hand me money. “Here.”
Folding her hand closed, I say, “I don’t need your money. Keep it. You’ve been getting the money I sent, right?”
“Yes, and about that, I have it saved in a box hidden in the house.” She shifts with a tilt of her head. “It’s yours. Not mine.”
“No, it’s yours. That’s why I sent it.” I swing my leg over the seat and settle into the leather while righting the bike.
“Honey, I don’t need your money.”
“Save it for retirement then.”
Taking a step back, she eyes my bike. “That motorcycle looks expensive. Harleys aren’t cheap. I’ve worried a lot about you over the years, but do I need to worry about this?”
“No. I’ve done okay the past couple of years,” I reply, trying to avoid what I’ve really been doing. “I wouldn’t bring trouble to your doorstep. I’m heading down to General Hardware to get a few things.”
“You might want to take the truck then.” She walks to the garage and punches in a code. The door slides up, and there’s my old truck. “You’re not going to be able haul more than a few nails on that Harley.”
She’s right. I move it to the side out of the way and get off. Tossing me the keys, she says, “You can charge everything to my account there. I’m sure Fred will remember you.”
He’ll remember me all right. He busted Cole, Billy, and me stealing a tractor to joyride through the fields one night. Deputy Whaley let us go after a few hours, saying he was tired of our laughing. We were disturbing the peace of the jail. Coach came down to haul us to the field that night and worked us hard until the sun hit high noon. We’d dropped and lay there until my mom and Delilah showed up with turkey sandwiches and water, giving us just enough energy to get our sorry asses home. I pulled the drunk card.
Bad move on my part.
I was grounded for a week—no after-school fun, no phone, and no Delilah—and learned my lesson. Don’t be a dick and don’t screw up. Stay on the right side of the law, although that one didn’t sink in the way it should have when I reflect on the past few years of my life.
An hour later, I have everything loaded into the back of the truck and pay Mr. Carver for the supplies. There’s no way in hell I’m sticking my mom with this bill.
“Say hi to your mom,” he says.
I give him a glare similar to the one I’ve used with the guys right before they were fucked up for whatever offense they committed against my former clients. Getting into the truck, I’m about to leave when Billy shows up in his beat-up old Dodge and parks next to me. With my window down, I say, “I can’t believe that old clunker still runs.”
He gets out and leans on the open window of my truck. “Yeah, she’s sweet when she wants to be.”
“Sounds a lot like Lou. How is Lorraine these days?”
“Married to some accountant two towns over.”
Shaking my head, I shift into park. “I always thought you guys would make it.”
“Some could say the same about you and Delilah.”
“Yeah, some could, but we all know how that turned out.”
Looking inside the cab, he says, “She’s in good
shape.”
“I didn’t get a good look yesterday, but she always was.”
He barks out a laugh. “The truck. Your mom has kept her in good shape.”
“Oh, yeah. She keeps her in the garage and drives her around every now and again.”
Silence slips in, an awkwardness that never used to exist back in high school. He finally says, “About yesterday—”
Leaning forward, I look through the windshield. “I should get back. It’s gonna rain.”
Looking up at the sky, he says, “You need help getting that wood covered?”
“Nah. I got it.”
Backing up, he says, “Beers later? I’ll even bring the fancy stuff.”
Considering I have no idea how long I’m staying, I keep thinking it’s best if I keep the people at a distance. But he makes me laugh, and I could use a few more. “Yeah, come over later. I don’t know about fancy. I’ll drink a Pabst or Bud with you if you prefer.”
His keys jingle as he shoves them in his pocket. “I’ll bring some over.”
“Cool.” I shift the truck into reverse and look through the back window. “Come by whenever.”
He taps the top of the truck. “See ya, man.”
Eyeing those gray clouds in the sky, I should head straight back, but my better senses left me the minute I found out Delilah’s divorced. I take the scenic route out toward her house. There’s a white truck parked in front of the Noelle house when I drive by the farm. It’s not practical in color, and the rain is going to ruin that just washed shine, but if that truck’s hers, I like that she’s damning the elements of this town. If it’s not . . . I swallow hard, my ego caught like a lump in my throat.
I keep driving, wanting to get the wood unloaded before the rain sets in.
5
Jason
After unloading the back of the truck and covering everything with a tarp, Billy pulls up. “Perfect timing,” I say sarcastically.
“You didn’t want my help, remember?” He’s got a six-pack of Heineken in one hand, so he’s forgiven.