by Brenda Novak
“Nice of you to take responsibility.”
Dylan managed a cynical smile. “Yeah, well, I wouldn’t want to stand in the way of true love.”
Joe jerked his head toward the house. “So what are you doing here now? Hoping to get lucky again?”
Cigarettes. Dylan needed a smoke, but he patted empty pockets. He’d bought a pack, since his brothers had taken his advice and thrown out what they already had. However, he’d subsequently tossed that new pack, too. “I was just trying to check on her.”
“Sure you were.”
“I don’t owe you anything, Joe. If she comes back to me, I’m going to take all I can get.”
Joe’s voice dropped low. “Stay away from her.”
“It would be a mistake to try to enforce that,” Dylan said, and walked off before the temptation to leave Joe writhing on his back could get the best of him.
* * *
Cheyenne had never been so cold. But she refused to go home to an empty house. She would find her sister first. She hadn’t come this far to let her life fall apart now that Anita could no longer affect her.
“Presley!”
There was a movement across the river. She angled her flashlight in that direction, but succeeded only in startling several deer. They bounded away, snapping twigs and crashing through branches.
It took a moment to absorb this latest disappointment. She’d gone down as far as Carl Inera’s and was on her way back following the river, but darkness, thick vegetation and rocks, both sharp and slippery, made the journey difficult. She’d already passed the swirling pool Presley favored. But she had to keep searching. She could easily imagine her sister getting high and wandering around out here until she either fell into the river or froze to death.
That didn’t explain where her car was. But Cheyenne had to at least look in their own backyard, had to be sure.
“Presley!” She was getting closer and closer to Dylan’s house, but she didn’t care if he or his brothers heard her. She didn’t care about anything except finding her only family. “Answer me!”
She smelled cigarette smoke before she realized she was no longer alone. Stopping not far from Dylan’s barn, she closed her eyes and inhaled. That scent reminded her of Presley, but she knew it wasn’t Presley smoking out here tonight. She used her flashlight to scan the woods ahead of her until she saw Dylan leaning up against a tree at the edge of his property.
“No luck?” he said, shying away from the light.
She wondered how long he’d been there, listening to her call out. He wasn’t even wearing a coat. “No.”
When he pushed off the tree and came toward her, she noticed that he was carrying a bottle of hard liquor in one hand and a cigarette in the other. “Joe came over to your place tonight. Thought you’d like to know. If you call him, you might be able to catch him before he goes to bed, get him to come back.”
Because it was rude to do anything else, she pointed her flashlight at the ground, but that made it impossible to ascertain his expression. He looked like nothing except a tall, dark shadow. “How do you know he came over?”
The whites of his teeth flashed in a smile, but she suspected it wasn’t a happy one. “We bumped into each other.”
Her heart was pounding. She wanted to believe it was due to the physical exertion but knew there was more to it. Seeing Dylan did this to her. “I told him about us.”
He drank from the bottle, then wiped his mouth. “So he said.”
Dylan’s words took Cheyenne by surprise. “He mentioned it to you?”
“Point-blank. You went for full disclosure, huh?”
When she folded her arms, hugging herself against the cold, he offered her a drink.
She caught a whiff of whiskey as she pushed it away. “I didn’t want to feel as if I’d been sneaking around.”
“Gutsy move. Admirable, considering how much you care about him.”
Was he being sarcastic? She couldn’t tell, but she was now convinced he was drunk. “You need to go inside, Dylan. It’s too cold out here.”
“You’re telling me that?”
“You don’t have a coat on.”
“I don’t need a coat.” He took a long drag. “I don’t need anything.”
“Least of all me?”
He didn’t respond.
“Come on.” She held his arm so she could tug him toward his house, but he jerked out of her grasp.
“Aaron saw her, you know.”
She let go of him. “He what?”
“He saw Presley last night.”
“That’s not what he told us.”
He kept smoking but didn’t say anything.
“Dylan?”
“Apparently, he wasn’t entirely honest.” He shrugged.
Mouth dry, she steadied herself by placing a hand on the closest tree. “What happened?”
“He was an asshole to her. Just like you’re afraid I’ll be to you. Should make you glad you never gave me the chance, huh?”
She couldn’t let their personal problems enter into this. She had to find Presley. “Does he know where she is?”
“No. She came by when he was asleep. He didn’t want to see her, so he turned her away and then she asked for drugs.”
“And…”
“He gave them to her. See? You can’t count on an Amos to do the right thing.”
But Aaron was as screwed up as Presley. Cheyenne couldn’t judge Dylan by Aaron’s actions, any more than Dylan could judge her by Presley’s.
Again, she thought of the possibility of a baby and felt heartbroken for her sister. She might’ve felt heartbroken for herself but refused to contemplate whether or not she might be pregnant, too. “He doesn’t care about her?”
“The ironic thing is—” he dropped his cigarette and stubbed it out “—I think he does.”
He didn’t offer an excuse as to why Aaron might’ve reacted as he had, but Cheyenne could guess. He’d lost his own mother; why would he want to be involved in losing hers?
“They both need to go into rehab.”
“Aaron says he’s ready for it. I’m taking him down after Christmas.”
“Good. It might be his last chance to get his life turned around.” She hoped Presley would have the same chance, hoped it wasn’t already too late.
“I’m sorry for the way he treated her,” he said softly.
“He’s the one who should be sorry. Come on, let’s get you inside.”
“I’m fine!”
“Please?” she said. “I don’t want to worry about you, too. I can’t…” When her voice broke, he tossed away the bottle and stepped up to frame her face with his hands.
She stared at him, waiting for him to kiss her, hoping he would. The way he made her feel when she was in his arms could overcome the pain. But he didn’t.
“Go out with me,” he whispered. “Just to dinner. I don’t pretend to be perfect, or even as good as Joe, but I can love you twice as much. If you don’t have a good time, I’ll leave you alone.”
She wanted his arms around her so badly. Rising up on her toes, she tried to press her lips to his, but he stopped her.
“Just a date. That’s all I want.”
No, he wanted her to legitimize their relationship. To make it public. She understood what that dinner signified. It would put her at odds with almost everyone she knew. It would also put a decisive end to anything she had going with Joe, if the note she’d left him hadn’t already done that.
“I’m obsessed with you,” she admitted.
“Then say yes.”
She couldn’t see his expression, but she could hear the entreaty in his voice, feel the hopeful tension in his body—and couldn’t refuse. “Will you go inside if I do?”
“I want to help you find your sister. That’s why I came out here.”
“It’s no use.” She swept her flashlight through the trees. “I’ve looked everywhere.”
He took her hand, toyed with her cold fingers, the
n pulled her to him and rested his chin on her head. “She’s going to be okay.”
There were no guarantees, but Cheyenne preferred to believe him. She certainly didn’t want to face any of the other possibilities. “When do you want to go out?” she asked.
“There’s no rush. You can call me when you’re ready. I just…I want you to give me a chance.”
“I’m not a safe bet, Dylan,” she said into his T-shirt. “You know that.”
He kissed her temple. “I think that’s what you’re holding against me.”
* * *
Presley woke in the sleeper of a semi. The man who’d picked her up was driving. She could hear and feel the motion of the truck. But she was naked beneath a blanket so she knew they probably hadn’t been on the road for long.
Squinting in the darkness, she shoved herself into a sitting position so she could see who she was with. When she saw it was a man somewhere in his late fifties and that he was obese and terribly unattractive even in the dim light of the instrument panel, she nearly groaned out loud.
“What time is it?” she asked, her voice raspy.
“Nearly two.”
She pressed her fingers to her temples in an effort to ease the pounding. “Where are we?”
He used the rearview mirror to look back at her. “Near Phoenix. You hungry? I can stop at a hole-in-the-wall café I know. They cater to truckers so they’re open twenty-four hours.”
She wasn’t hungry. She was never hungry. She just wanted more meth, Oxycontin, pot, anything that would dull the awareness dawning on her. “You don’t happen to know a dealer in Phoenix, do you?”
“No. I’ve never done drugs. My wife would divorce me if I did.” He winked at her. “But I’ve got more Jack Daniel’s, if that’ll help.”
She remembered drinking with him hours ago. That was probably the reason she had such a splitting headache. “I’ve had enough of that.”
“Want me to pull over at the next stop? I could give you another massage.”
The way he smiled at her certainly didn’t help the roiling in her stomach. “There’s no chance you’re a serial killer, is there?”
His eyes widened as if she couldn’t possibly have meant that hopeful inflection. “Oh, no! Don’t worry. You’re the one who wanted to…you know. I would never hurt you.”
The truck rumbled beneath her as she sank back onto the pillow and stared up at the blackness. “That’s what I thought.”
“You seem disappointed,” he said with an uncomfortable laugh.
“I am. Would it be so hard to put me out of my misery? Maybe you could just push me out while we’re driving.”
“That would kill you.” He sounded shocked. “I told you I’m not going to hurt you. You’re such a beautiful girl. Why would you have a death wish?”
She didn’t answer.
“Maybe you’re a little crazy, but you’re a hellcat in bed. It’s been a long time since I’ve had sex that good. I owe you.”
She thought of Aaron and the pain in her head and chest became so acute she nearly blacked out. He was the only one she wanted, but he didn’t want her. And now she was carrying his child. She wasn’t sure what to do about the situation. She knew she shouldn’t be drinking or using. The over-the-counter test she’d taken just after Cheyenne left for A Victorian Christmas with Joe confirmed it. But if she was going to end the pregnancy anyway… “I want to get out.”
“What?”
“Pull over and let me out!”
“I can’t do that here! We’re in the middle of the Sonoran desert.”
“So?” She rested one arm over her eyes. “I’ll walk.”
“It’s too cold outside. And it’d take you hours to get to Phoenix.”
She didn’t argue. She didn’t care enough about anything to put up a fight. Her mother was dead. Her sister wasn’t really her sister. She was pregnant. And the man she’d considered her boyfriend didn’t give a shit about her.
“Presley?”
Why had she told this man her name? Couldn’t he tell that she didn’t even want to see him? “Yes?”
“Are you okay with Phoenix? Can I let you out there?”
Phoenix was good as anywhere. “Whatever.”
* * *
Cheyenne checked Presley’s room as soon as she woke up. Still empty. So she went to the front door, hoping her sister’s car might be in the drive despite her absence from the house.
Except for the Oldsmobile, the drive was empty, as well. Not really a surprise, despite all her wishing it could be otherwise. There was, however, a rose and a card on the doorstep where the hospice nurse had left a meal last night—a meal Cheyenne had taken in before searching the riverbank but hadn’t eaten.
In spite of the cold, she scooped up those small gifts and walked outside to sit in her sister’s chair. But when she saw the ashtray perched precariously on the banister, she didn’t even bother to open the card, which she assumed someone had left because of Anita’s death.
Her phone rang, cutting through the worry that held her in such a tight grip. She’d kept her cell with her every minute since Presley had gone missing. But this wasn’t her sister, either. It was the casino, wondering whether or not Presley would be coming in to work later.
Although Cheyenne explained to Presley’s boss that their mother’s death, which she’d told him about yesterday, was hitting her sister hard, he hardly seemed sympathetic. He managed another perfunctory, “I’m sorry.” Then he told her that Presley would lose her job if she didn’t make it in tonight. They were short-staffed and couldn’t get anyone else to fill in over the holidays.
Hoping Presley’s friend, Carolyn, might’ve heard from her, or that she could cover the shift and buy Presley some more time, Cheyenne called her.
“Have you heard from her?” she asked as soon as Carolyn picked up. She left the card that she’d found on the doorstep in her lap but held the flower to her nose.
“No, nothing. And I’ve called her phone a million times.”
There was no guarantee Presley even had her cell with her. If the ringing bothered her, she could’ve thrown it out the window. When she was high, there was no telling what she might do. That was how she’d wound up getting a tattoo depicting wild beasts devouring innocent prey covering one whole arm. “It’s a dog-eat-dog world,” she’d said when Cheyenne had asked why she’d chosen something so violent.
Cheyenne had just thanked Carolyn for agreeing to cover Presley’s shift when a call from Eve beeped through. No doubt Riley had let her know what was happening. Cheyenne had told him not to—Eve couldn’t do anything from the Caribbean—but she had to admit it was nice to see that familiar name pop up on caller ID.
“Chey, did you find her?” Eve asked without preamble.
“No.”
“I can’t believe she’d do this.”
“You can’t believe it or you don’t want to believe it?”
“You’re right. I don’t want to believe it. Where do you think she went?”
“She could’ve gone anywhere.”
“And here I am, stranded on this damn boat.” She made a sound of annoyance. “I asked if I could get off early, but there’s no way. I’m stuck until we dock in Puerto Rico.”
Cheyenne gazed out across the yard. “Thanks for trying.”
“I never should have left Whiskey Creek.”
“So Riley told you about my mom, too?”
“He did. He called last night, worried when he came over to help search for Presley and you weren’t home.”
“He helped me all afternoon. He didn’t need to do more.”
“He feels bad. We all do.”
She studied the flower in her hands. “He must’ve been the one who brought me this rose.”
“What rose?”
“I found it on the doorstep.”
“You don’t know for sure?”
“Hang on.” She propped the phone to her ear with one shoulder while reading the card. “Actually, it
’s not from him.”
“Who’s it from?”
Cheyenne might’ve shied away from mentioning that it was the guy Eve had wanted, except that at this point she was too numb to lie. “Joe.”
Maybe Eve was faking it, but she sounded enthusiastic. “That’s nice! How do you know?”
“There’s a card with it.”
“What does it say?”
“It’s just your basic sympathy card,” she said, but it was much more than that. He’d written that he felt bad for what she was going through and wanted to be there for her. He’d also written that he wanted to talk to her about Dylan.
“So how are things between you?”
“I like him. He’s nice.”
“That’s it?”
She rested her head on the back of her chair. “I’m not capable of any more right now. All I know is that Dylan is the one I want to get naked with.” There, she’d said it.
After a slight pause, Eve said, “Chey, Dylan has a certain…magnetism. I’ve felt it. I’m sure most women have. But think about what it would be like trying to maintain a relationship with him, what he might be like after the initial excitement. Joe’s a family man. He’s dependable, steady.”
Dylan had raised his brothers. He’d stuck with them regardless of how difficult life became. How could anyone be more of a family man than that? Or steadier?
Still, she knew what Eve meant and couldn’t argue. Last night she’d felt guilty for judging him by Aaron’s misdeeds, but Dylan’s checkered past also spoke against him. “You think what I’m feeling is merely lust?”
“You’ve never been to bed with anyone but him. Sex has created a bond between you. That’s what it’s meant to do. But…you can’t let physical attraction get in the way of what’s best for you. Who’s more likely to help you build the life you want?”