In Your Honor

by Heidi Hutchinson

  Harmony, as predicted, was completely jealous of the other hot girl. She got louder and more obnoxious as the day wore on and Shane decided that he might actually hate her. He'd never hated anyone in his life, so it was a whole new sensation.

  Lucy didn't do any swimming; she only wanted to relax in the warm sunshine. Shane felt like the luckiest bastard in the world when she asked him to put sunscreen on her back and shoulders. Her skin was soft and silky under his hands and he was again thrown into a whole new dimension by her sweet scent of pure, wildflower honey.

  His friends started to throw a Frisbee around, and she slipped her clothes back on to join them. The guys were a little thrown off by her tomboyish behavior but included her anyway. Shane sensed her desire to win them over and he hoped it wasn't on his account. He had never tried to imply any such stipulation. But obviously being on the road with a bunch of dudes had made it easier for Lucy to fit into this kind of a scenario.

  “Dude,” Adam approached him, getting a bottle of water out of the cooler. “Your girl is pretty cool.”

  “Thanks, man,” Shane nodded in appreciation. “I like her, too.”

  “You gonna take her out on the water tomorrow?” he asked, sucking down half the bottle in one swallow.

  “Yeah, that's the plan.” Shane watched her dive for the Frisbee and sacrifice her body for the catch. Damn, she was cool.

  By the time the end of the day arrived, Shane was caught off guard. They all had dinner together and then one by one retreated to their rooms. Lucy went into the bathroom to shower and he set up his bed on the couch. It wasn't even an issue for him. He was thrilled to be in the same room with her. But he was really looking forward to one last kiss before having to say goodnight.

  She stepped out of the bathroom in a giant t-shirt and baggy sweatpants, hair wet. She looked goofy as hell.

  “You look comfortable,” he remarked jokingly.

  “Still sexy?” she ribbed back.

  “Oh, more than ever,” he confirmed before closing himself into the bathroom for his own shower. The air was still humid and he was surrounded by her scent again. He picked up her shampoo to examine the scent; it was a generic brand he didn't recognize. Fragrance free. Her body wash was labeled the same. He chuckled to himself as he got clean; the more he got to know this girl, the more mystery he uncovered.

  He brushed his teeth and shaved, eyes scanning the bathroom counter for any perfume bottle or lotions. Nothing.

  Shane was completely perplexed. He stepped into his black boxer briefs and red pajama bottoms, not bothering with a shirt. Slightly finger-combing his damp hair, he opened the door, intent on getting his question answered. He paused in the doorway, watching her for a few seconds.

  Chocolate hair tumbled down her shoulders and soaked her t-shirt in splotches as it dried where it lay. She sucked her bottom lip into her mouth as her dark eyes intently absorbed the words on the page of the book she was reading, David Warren's Unstoppable. Could she get any more perfect?

  She must've sensed him watching her because she looked up, and her smile melted him. He slowly crossed the room and joined her on the bed, as if she had asked him to without saying a word.

  “I didn't know you were a David Warren fan,” he remarked, touching the book edges with his fingertips.

  “He makes me think.” She shrugged and closed the book, setting it aside. “What's the plan for tomorrow?” Her eyes lit up and she leaned towards him, resting her elbows on her knees.

  “Surfing,” he grinned.

  “What if I die?” she asked, not looking alarmed in the least.

  “I won't let that happen,” he answered honestly as he studied her face. It was completely absent of makeup, and he realized she probably didn't wear that much to begin with because she looked exactly the same as she usually did.

  “I have to check something,” he told her, remembering his intentions when he had come out of the bathroom. Leaning in, he deeply inhaled near her hair. He moved on to her neck and then down her arm. Never touching, just taking breath after breath of her exquisite aroma.

  “What are you doing?” she asked, her voice laced with amusement.

  Shane frowned, more confused than when he started. “I know this is going to make me look like a crazy fangirl, but I checked your stuff in the bathroom. Everything is unscented.”

  “Yeah,” she smiled bashfully and rolled her eyes, “I'm allergic to most fragrances. They make me itch.”

  “Then how in the world do you smell so good?” He was baffled. Her simple shrug answered his question. “It's you, isn't it? You smell like wildflowers and happiness naturally.”

  “Happiness doesn't have a smell,” she chided.

  “Like hell it doesn't, you radiate it.” He saw something pass over her face briefly but it fled too soon for him to pinpoint what it was. She smiled hesitantly and he looked at the curve of her mouth, suddenly distracted.

  His fingertips brushed her cheek as his hand slipped behind her head. She let her knees drop to the side, allowing him to lean closer, and he used his other hand to brace himself on the bed. Pausing just before his lips met hers, he studied her expectant face. Eyes closed, lips parted, her slight intake of breath as she anticipated what was coming. When he relented and allowed his mouth to explore hers, he couldn't believe the electric current that tore through him. Her mouth moved in perfect concert with his, causing his breath to quicken, and he had to focus extraordinarily hard to keep the pace slow. She brought on an urgency in him that he knew he needed to fight.

  His hand that was on the bed moved its way over to her hip and then slid up her side. Her hands rested lightly on his chest and he knew she could feel the steady thunder of his heart under her palms. She let out a soft sigh, and Shane thought he was going to lose all semblance of control.

  A distant memory pierced the haze of his desire. Lenny telling him no, and him not caring to listen. It was enough to make him examine his current circumstances. He reluctantly pulled away from the dark-haired beauty who had given no indication that she wanted to stop. But he had to catch his breath. He was not going to let his baser needs take over and potentially ruin the best thing he'd ever found in his life.

  “I'm going to go over to my couch now,” he said carefully, trying to keep his voice from giving away his intense longing to finish that kiss. “Goodnight, Lucy.” He probably should have just gotten up at that moment and walked away, but he brushed his lips against the tender skin on her neck under her earlobe and her breath hitched. He would be lucky if he could sleep tonight.

  “Goodnight, Shane,” Lucy whispered, her eyes half-lidded and her voice husky. He was satisfied that his kiss had apparently left her wanting more as well. That was a good sign.

  He settled into his makeshift bed across the room and let out a sigh as he relaxed on his back. He couldn't explain it, it didn't make sense, it was way too soon to be feeling the way he was. He smiled in the dark, listening to the ocean out the open patio door. If this was what falling in love felt like, he would gladly take his time.

  Chapter 14

  High Road

  It was the smell of bacon that made Blake realize he had fallen asleep after all. He had convinced himself that the memories were too strong and the ghosts were too loud to allow him any amount of rest.

  He opened his eyes and looked around the room that hadn't changed even a little since he'd left town to chase his dreams years back. His mom had obviously been dusting and vacuuming, because it still looked lived-in and habitable. He felt a pang of guilt in his gut as he thought about how he'd stayed away for so long. He'd always made sure to call on Mother's Day and her birthday and all the holidays. But that wasn't really the same thing, was it?

  Little League trophies lined the shelves, walls were covered in band posters—everything from Waylon Jennings to AC/DC. It was exactly as he'd left it. He probably still had cigarettes hidden under the bed.

  He pushed the covers off himself and staggered down the step
s to the kitchen where his mama was loading up a plate with eggs and bacon.

  “Mornin', Mama.” He kissed her cheek as she handed over the breakfast.

  “You drinkin' coffee still?” she asked, reaching in the cupboard for a cup.

  “Yes, ma'am.” He sat down at the small kitchen table and waited for her to join him.

  “What are your plans for today?” she asked, plunking down the steaming mug.

  “I have no idea. I figured I'd get home first, then go from there.”

  “Sounds like you.”

  She let him eat for a few minutes before suggesting, “You could get that old bike out of the shed and see if it still runs.” She smoothed the seam of the tablecloth with her thumb too casually before her green eyes flicked up and Blake could see the slight dare in them.

  Blake wiped his mouth with a napkin as his eyebrows went up. “You still have my bike? I thought you'd have sold it by now.”

  “I knew you'd be back,” she replied nonchalantly, a small smile playing on her lips. “And that bike is a piece of you as much as those tattoos you have.”

  “Thanks, Mama.” He chuckled at her. “For the breakfast, too,” he nodded at his empty plate.

  “You get yourself cleaned up and get out of here. I don't want you back 'til supper.” She patted his arm and stood up abruptly.

  “What are you gonna do?” he frowned, confused as to why she was seemingly kicking him out all of a sudden. He had just gotten home a few hours ago, he thought she'd want to spend more time with him first.

  “I have students today.” She gave him a smile like when she knew he was up to no good. “And I promised I would help you this week... that means you gettin' off your butt and facin' the day.” Her hand landed on her hip as she cocked it, waiting for his inevitable argument. She knew him too well.

  He shook his head at her, holding back the grin that wanted to escape. He swilled back the last of his coffee before he complied with her wishes and hit the shower. She was right, he needed to get it started if he was ever going to find out how it finished.

  Wiping the steam off the mirror with a nearby towel, Blake really looked at himself in the glass. He couldn't remember doing this since that night in the bar in Boston after he'd seen the touring schedule. He ran a hand over his unshaven jaw and leaned closer, peering into his eyes. They weren't bloodshot and glazed over this time, but he still barely recognized them. They were a similar shade and shape to his mama's, but they looked so foreign in their tired sockets. Not to mention the lines that had appeared around them sometime this year. He searched his reflection for the man he used to know and wondered if he was still in there somewhere. Or if this shell was all that was left. This is what happens when you don't deal with the stuff in the basement.

  God knows why he decided to go through his old clothes instead of wearing something he'd packed. He shook out an aged pair of jeans and smiled at the worn-through back pocket from where he carried his wallet. He flipped the pants over and examined the front. Yup, this was the same pair that Lucy had pulled the belt loops off of the front with her death grip when he'd been going way too fast on the Harley. They also had a faded spray of white paint down the left leg from the night they'd painted obscenities on the water tower and he'd made fun of Lucy's haircut. He was lucky she hadn't thrown him off the damn thing.

  The pants slid on easily, fitting him like they should. Opening the closet, he grabbed the first shirt he saw and tugged it over his head, running his fingers through his wet hair as the soft cotton settled around his middle. He glanced down and smirked at his random choice: his light blue Underdog shirt. Lucy had wanted it so bad. She used to beg him for it but he never gave in. That had been stupid. He should have just given her the silly shirt, it would have made her insanely happy. I have always been a dick.

  “I like the disheveled look,” Mama said when he came back downstairs. “Very Indiana Jones.”

  “Thanks, Mama,” he chuckled dryly and opened the drawer next to the stove, digging for the keys to the shed.

  The air outside was hot but not overly so. He took a deep breath and looked around at the familiar houses. It was weird to be back and not have Lucy with him. More weird than he had anticipated.

  She'd been his shadow since the day they met. An only child that he quickly adopted as his baby sister. Even at the very young age of eight, Blake had felt an uncontrollable desire to protect her. The two-year difference between them was hardly an issue since she was a year ahead in school and he had gotten held back a year, putting them in the same grade.

  A year later, right after she turned seven, her mom had gotten sick, cancer of some kind. She passed away a month before Blake's dad died in a work-related accident. They had comforted each other, each needing the other more and more every day. Not a lot of kids that age can understand what it's like to lose a parent, and they had to experience it all together.

  Because they shared such a deep emotional bond, they were completely inseparable after that. Side by side in every choice they made, whether good or bad.

  It didn't become difficult until the summer she turned fifteen and wanted to start dating guys. She'd blossomed into this beautiful young woman and Blake suddenly had his hands full. He would get irrationally jealous and had threatened more potential suitors than he could count. She would yell how completely unfair it was that he could date whatever skank he wanted and she wasn't allowed to say boo. Not that it ever stopped her. But the entire town knew not to mess with Lucy. Because if Blake's intimidation wasn't enough to scare some poor boy off, then her father definitely sealed the deal.

  Blake opened the door to the shed and was immediately accosted by dust and even more memories. He stripped the sheet off the old Harley and pushed the bike out into the yard. Grabbing a towel off the porch to wipe it down, he cleaned it up as much as possible. He ran his hands over the worn and cracked seat, smiling to himself as he remembered the day he'd bought it.

  Lucy had dared him to.

  He was seventeen. It had been sitting in the neighbor's yard with a For Sale sign on it for less than a day. It would have cleaned out his entire savings, and he didn't know how to drive a motorcycle anyway.

  Lucy taunted him with it. She was a very precocious fifteen-year-old. She knew how much he wanted it and she played every one of his weaknesses. Until she flat out dared him to. How was he supposed to walk away from that?

  Mama had pitched a fit. She said he'd be grounded 'til he was dead. But weeks later, she admitted that it was nice having her car back to herself.

  A 1979 Harley XLS Sportster Ironhead, it was kind of a piece of junk. But Blake loved on it as much as possible. He pampered it and played with it until it ran for him alone. He got his license and almost never got off of the thing.

  Triny had agreed to let Lucy ride with him if she wore a helmet. She never did. The seat was barely big enough even for her tiny butt, and she had no choice but to hold on to him for dear life. They were just kids and they encouraged each other's crazy side. It was amazing they had lived through those years.

  Blake came back to the present and tried to start the old bike up. It wasn't as easy as all that. It took a few hours and several curses later, but he finally got it running.

  He took off down the street and automatically followed his old route to pick up Lucy. Except she wouldn't be waiting for him on the front porch, mad that he was late.

  He wondered if she had cried the last time they had made plans and instead of just being late, he never showed up. He had never asked. He hadn't wanted to know.

  He didn't deviate from his course but continued on. Not sure why he felt the need to check. To see if maybe she was there. Maybe.

  The house came into view and he slowed down before turning onto the dirt road. Having to pick up Lucy so often had probably been the single greatest way for him to improve his balance and control on the Harley. Damn dirt road.

  He went all the way to the steps of the front porch. She wasn't there.
No, she was on a beach in California. With Shane. Sonofabitch.

  He got off the bike, kicking the stand down and slumped onto the steps of the porch. This is really where the beginning of the end started. And he'd been running from the consequences ever since.

  It had been her eighteenth birthday. He was going to take her to dinner and then down to the lake. He'd had a tiny diamond ring burning a hole in his pocket and he couldn't wait to give it to her. But they had had a fight of epic proportions that day.

  He'd mentioned that he wanted to go to California to audition for this band he knew. He wanted her to go with him, but her grandparents had gotten sick and she had taken over helping in the diner. He asked her to choose, she said he was being ridiculous. It only got worse after that.

  So instead of picking her up that night, he got on a bus and headed west. He didn't even call her.

  He ran his hand over his face, feeling horrible. The longer he stayed away, the easier it was to justify what he had done. But not when he was sitting here, in the spot where he knew she had waited. Knowing Lucy, she'd probably waited all night. She had always had a lot more faith in him than he ever deserved.

  He heard the screen door behind him open and he startled slightly but didn't turn around. Cowboy boots thunked onto the porch as the door slammed back into place.

  Triny Newton was a legend to his friends and most of the town. To Blake, he was so much more than that. He was there when his own father wasn't. He was the rock that Lucy had been chipped off of. When he retired from the industry to have a family, he had poured all of his intensity into it. And he'd created a spitfire of immeasurable quality.

  Blake felt Triny's gaze burning through the back of his skull. But Triny was patient, waiting for Blake to say the first words. He swallowed his guilt and finally asked, “Did she cry?”