Hometown Heartbreaker

by Maisey Yates

  The truth was, there wasn’t much that was romantic about her existence. But sometimes, when she told the story of how it all worked, she pretended that it was. She pretended that all the places she’d seen had possessed something magical about them, when in reality, it was usually just more of the same: sad small towns and crappy roadside motels.

  But in memory, things could be different. A little bit brighter, a little more fun. When she thought back on the night she’d ended up wandering the streets of some tiny town in Kansas, getting rained on and ending up sleeping in some back alley covered by cardboard, she pretended it had been some kind of important formative experience. When in reality it had been the most miserable, traumatizing night of her life.

  Yeah, memory changed things.

  She didn’t lie. At least, she didn’t fashion lies out of nothing. She was a master of embellishing the truth. At adding jewels and glitter to her circumstances, so that no one would notice it was all plastered onto a cheap cardboard facade. But then, she did it for herself as much as anyone else.

  “Okay. Well, as long as you don’t intend to kill my entire family and steal their identities, you can follow me back to the homestead.”

  “In all my years of drifting I’ve never committed mass murder, so I don’t see why I’d start now.” She closed her eyes and took a deep breath of the damp ocean breeze. “Yeah, no. Not feeling homicidal today.”

  “Good to know.” He slammed her door shut and walked back toward his truck, and she waited for him to get in and pull over to the driveway before she followed suit. She wasn’t quite sure how she’d gotten roped into this, but it definitely beat walking home, even if it would take her a little bit out of her way. And he said it had helped him. It wasn’t terrible to help somebody. It had just been so long since she’d done it she had kind of forgotten that it almost felt good.

  It was difficult to worry about the circumstances of others when your own were so dire.

  The drive on the gently winding rural road passed quickly, and before she knew it she was pulling into a dirt driveway that wound back into the trees.

  Branches from the ragged pines reached into the driveway, scraping against the sides of the car as she drove on. She could only hope this wasn’t some kind of elaborate scheme to collect insurance money from her or something, by blaming her for scratches on the car. In all honesty, that seemed a little more likely than him just “helping her out.”

  She pushed that thought to the back of her mind. It didn’t matter either way, since she was the worst person on earth to try to commit insurance fraud with. She didn’t have insurance. Though that could probably get her in trouble. She chewed her lip as she turned that thought over, her eyes glued to the taillights on Aiden’s truck.

  Maybe he was a member of a cult out here in the woods. A cult that frowned on drinking. Maybe she was being lured here to be sacrificed to the forest gods. Unfortunately for them, if they needed a virgin sacrifice, they were shit out of luck with her.

  Actually, a cult kind of explained Aiden and his general nice-guy appearance better than anything else. Certainly better than genuine kindness.

  They rounded the last curve in the driveway and a small, stereotypical vision of a farmhouse came into view, a single porch light shining brightly by the red front door. “You are now entering...the Twilight Zone,” she said to herself.

  She parked the car beside Aiden’s truck and waited. She felt frozen for some reason, not really wanting to get out and deal with whatever was going to happen here. Not because she actually thought it was a cult that wanted to sacrifice her to a deity, but because she sensed that there might be cookies and kindness afoot. And both made her terribly nervous.

  Well, cookies in isolation didn’t make her nervous. But she was accustomed to the store-bought variety. Not any that were made with actual human hands and love and other things she generally avoided.

  She heard Aiden shut his truck door and she let out a long sigh. She turned the engine off and got out, the gravel in the driveway crunching beneath her feet. “Okay,” she said. “I’m ready to get back to my campground now. Tent sweet tent and all.”

  He nodded once. “Go ahead and get in the truck.”

  She turned, ready to do just that when the front door opened and a woman peered through the slim crack. “Aiden?”

  He froze, his posture going stiff. The glow from the porch light outlining his physique, drawing her eyes to his broad shoulders. She had a sense, in that moment, that he carried quite a bit on them. “Yeah, Mom. It’s me.”

  Oh. He lived with his parents. Interesting.

  “You have a friend with you?” The older woman sounded hopeful.

  “Just giving her a ride,” Aiden said. “She helped me bring Dad’s car in from town.” She noticed he didn’t offer any further explanation for that.

  “Well, why doesn’t she come in and have some tea?”

  She had sensed it from the moment they pulled up. The warm country vibe was undeniable. The place reeked of hospitality. Which was strange, given what she already knew. That his father was an alcoholic, and that Aiden seemed to be taking care of everything.

  “I shouldn’t,” Casey said. “I’ve been working, and I’m tired.” Silence descended for a second before she realized that she had skipped pleasantries. “Thank you. I appreciate it.” She didn’t really.

  “Have you eaten?”

  She hadn’t. And she was actually really hungry. But she had consigned herself to a growling stomach tonight. “I...”

  “Let me make you a sandwich.”

  Aiden was stiff as a board beside her, clearly uncomfortable with the entire situation. Well, he could join the club. What was it with these people and their aggressive need to do nice things? Aiden didn’t even want to do something nice for her, and yet he seemed powerless to do anything but. She did not understand compulsory niceness.

  She also couldn’t turn down a sandwich. “I... That would be nice.”

  “I thought you were in a hurry,” Aiden said, obviously not feeling as obligated to be hospitable as he’d been earlier.

  “I said I was tired. Not rushed. It turns out my sandwich needs outweigh my sleep needs.”

  “Well, come on in,” his mother said, her tone cheery, as though it were the late afternoon and she was inviting them in for an after-school snack. At least, that’s how she imagined something like that might go. She wasn’t really familiar.

  The older woman turned and walked back into the house and Casey gave Aiden a sidelong glance. Suddenly, she realized she had never formally introduced herself. Not that he was the first guy she had spent time with who had never bothered to ask for her name. But this wasn’t exactly the same.

  “I’m Casey,” she said. “Since I’m about to take a sandwich from your mother, I figured you might want to know.”

  “I didn’t really,” he said.

  “And why are you suddenly being a dick?”

  “It isn’t you. It’s her.”

  But he didn’t offer further explanation. He just headed toward the house, walking up the stairs with heavy steps. She followed him, not waiting for an invitation, because she had a feeling he wasn’t going to give it.

  He held open the front door for her and she stopped, looking at the wreath on the door. It was woven together with twigs and flowers. Fake of course, and a little worse for wear. Still, it was a nice effort to cheer up the space, and for some reason she was seized with the desire to touch it. It was such a strange, homey little thing. The kind of thing you would never find on the doors of the motels she typically stayed at. Certainly not on the tent flap she called an entryway.

  “Are you going to go in?”

  She looked up, her eyes clashing with his. “Yeah,” she said, feeling stupid at having been caught in a feelsy moment.

  The entryway was as well-worn as the wreath on the door. There was a threadbare rug placed over scuffed-up boards, accented by faded wallpaper and framed pictures that looked
like they’d been cut out of a calendar sometime back in the 1980s.

  Aiden’s mother walked back in, her hands clasped in front of her. “Why don’t you sit in the living room?”

  She turned and went back into the kitchen and Aiden looked at her, then turned to the right, leading her into a small, square room next to the entryway.

  She sat down in a floral armchair and Aiden took his seat on the sofa across from her.

  “Well,” she said, patting her thighs with her palms. “This is...not what I expected, considering our introduction.”

  Aiden rubbed his hand over his forehead. “My dad is probably passed out in the bedroom. That’s why she has us in here and not in the kitchen.”

  “Wow. Way to shatter the whole Leave it to Beaver thing I was building up in my head.”

  “Sorry to disappoint you. Imagine how I feel.”

  “Yeah, that brings me to my next observation and question. You live here? Why?” She looked him over, making a show of it. And taking her time because, hell, why not? He was hot and she wasn’t blind. “I mean, you seem perfectly able to live on your own. To get a job and pay for a place to stay. You are...absolutely able-bodied.” She made that last part sound as lecherous as possible. It wasn’t hard to do.

  “So are you. And yet, you’re living in a tent in a campground.”

  “Touché. Extenuating circumstances.” She waved her hand, as if pushing said circumstances out of the way. “I assume you have them, too. And I’m curious about them.”

  “Yeah,” he said slowly, “I have them. Who doesn’t?”

  “Good question. But not the one I asked. Why exactly do you live at home?”

  “For starters, I don’t live in the house.” He leaned back on the couch, pushing his hand back through his dark hair. It was a nice hand, as she’d already observed. Strong. Capable. Unf. “I live in a cabin on the property.”

  “Nice. Very nice.”

  “I work on the farm, because of course my dad’s general state makes it difficult for him to do that with any consistency.”

  “Okay, I can see that.”

  “This place is my legacy. I’ve been working on it since I was fifteen years old. It’s mine. But my name’s not on the deed. Technically, it still belongs to my old man. So, if I want to work it, I have to work around him.”

  She nodded slowly, feeling a little bit guilty for giving him a hard time. It was easy for her to make light of other people’s circumstances. She spent so much time doing it with her own it was second nature. Sincerity was a whole lot harder. “Okay, I get that.” She leaned over, resting her forearms on her legs. “So, what about your mom? She seems nice.”

  “She is. Too nice. She always wants to help other people, but she doesn’t realize how much of it we need. How much she needs.”

  “Because of your dad?”

  “It takes most of our resources just to keep this place afloat. Plus, there’s supporting his drinking habit. But she wants to give to all kinds of charities, and feed hungry-looking waitresses that show up at the door.”

  “Well, I do appreciate that. I was going to skip dinner tonight.”

  He looked slightly abashed when she said that. She hadn’t intended to make him feel bad. If there was one thing she hated, it was pity.

  “Sorry. I shouldn’t begrudge you a sandwich.”

  “Begrudging or not, a sandwich is a sandwich. I don’t particularly care if you’re happy about me getting it.”

  “Sorry. I’m being a dick.”

  The apology was a shock, and she didn’t really know how to take it. “I don’t particularly care whether you’re a dick or not. I was just curious why.”

  “Does it make a difference?”

  “Not really.”

  They heard footsteps in the home, and their conversation stopped as his mother walked in with a plate that had two sandwiches sitting on it. “I thought you might like one, too, Aiden,” she said, her voice soft, her smile kind.

  Casey was frozen for a whole ten seconds, wondering what it must have been like to grow up with someone who made you sandwiches. She was very skilled at making her own. A lot less skilled at accepting things like this from people.

  “Thanks,” he said.

  “Thank you,” she mumbled.

  “I’ll leave you,” she said, turning and walking back out of the room. Again, Casey had the feeling the older woman was treating this like an after-school playdate. But she had a hard time thinking anything negative about it because it was so necessary for her right in this moment.

  “You can have both sandwiches,” he said. “I ate.”

  “Thank you,” she said again, because she wasn’t in a position to reject charity. Not now.

  She picked up the first sandwich and began to eat, suddenly realizing just how ravenous she was. Really, she was kind of a mess, and something about this shabby but well-ordered house, and the fact that she wanted to cry over a sandwich, brought that to light in an undeniable way. Not even she could ignore it now. He didn’t say anything while she polished off both sandwiches, sighing heavily when she was done.

  “Thank you,” she said for the third time, really meaning it this time.

  “I had better get you back to the campground,” he said, standing, his broad frame filling up the room.

  She felt a prickling on the back of her neck and turned around and saw Aiden’s mother standing in the doorway. “The campground?”

  Casey looked at Aiden, who was standing there, immovable and silent. She cleared her throat. “That’s where I’m staying.”

  “Oh, no,” she said, her brow creasing deeply. “That’s no good at all. You should stay here.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CASEY BLINKED. “I... WHAT?” It sounded an awful lot like the other woman, a stranger, was asking her if she wanted to stay with them.

  She was back to having cult concerns.

  “You’re camping?”

  “Yes,” Casey said, hesitant now.

  The look on her face was...motherly. “Are you with anyone? Are you staying all by yourself?”

  “I’m by myself. Really, I’m fine. I always travel alone.”

  “No,” she said. Her blue eyes—identical to her son’s, Casey couldn’t help but notice—were soft and filled with concern. “You can’t stay by yourself. It isn’t safe. Plus, it’s been such a chilly spring. You have to be freezing staying in a tent.”

  Yeah, she was. “It’s really fine,” she lied.

  “We have a trailer here on the property,” the older woman continued. “Just a little travel trailer, but it has heat. And it’s dry.”

  She looked back at Aiden, who was looking tense but resigned. “Yeah, Mom, you have a point,” he said, a slave to Good Samaritan urges that were entirely foreign to Casey.

  Understanding slowly rolled over her and she shook her head. “No. I don’t want to put anyone out.”

  “Nonsense,” she said. “You won’t be putting anyone out. It has water, and it’s hooked up so that the bathroom works. And no one is staying in it.”

  “No offense,” Casey said, “but you don’t even know my situation. I could be a criminal.”

  “Are you?” his mother asked.

  “Well, no.”

  “Then I’m sure it will be fine for you to stay here until you’re back on your feet.”

  “Really, I won’t be here for long. I’m just working at Ace’s and saving up money until I can afford to get my car fixed.”

  “See? No trouble at all. You can call me Josie,” she said, extending her hand. “Josie Crawford.”

  Casey took hold of it. “Casey James,” she said.

  Inexplicably, emotion expanded in her throat, making it difficult to breathe. Difficult to speak. She could hear everything he had just told her echoing in her mind. About how his mother helped people even when she couldn’t afford to offer help. She felt like knowing that made her somewhat obligated to turn all this down. But she just couldn’t.

 
As cynical as she wanted to be about people’s motives, she also needed help. How could she turn it down when it was offered? She couldn’t. Even if she gave it the side-eye the whole time, she had to accept the handout.

  “I suppose I’d better get the trailer unlocked and turn the heat on,” Aiden said.

  “Oh,” Casey said. “I don’t have any of my things.”

  “I’ll go take care of the trailer,” Josie said. “Aiden, why don’t you take Casey back to her campsite to get her necessities?”

  “Come on,” Aiden said. “Let’s go.” She could tell that there was a heavy sigh building inside of Aiden that he was refusing to let out. It would have been amusing, except she was currently at sea, floating in emotions she had very little experience with. So, no laughing was happening.

  “Thank you,” she said, the words sounding so flat and inadequate. She’d said them four times in the past few minutes alone and she didn’t know what else to say, didn’t know what else to do. This was why she preferred those kinds of arrangements with men where they clearly wanted her body in return for anything nice they happened to do for her. At least then it was equitable. At least then she didn’t feel so at a loss. She could cut ties with a clean conscience, owing nothing. This was... This was just a gift, and she had no clue what to do with that.

  She followed Aiden back out to his truck, climbing into the passenger seat and folding her hands in her lap. She was acutely aware that he was irritated with her, and that as soon as they were out of earshot from his mother, he was going to let her know.

  As soon as he started the truck engine, he proved her right. “Well, there’s a prime example of my mother being my mother.”

  “If it’s terrible of me to accept, just let me know,” she said. Annoyance built inside her, canceling out the warm fuzzy feeling she’d had just a moment earlier.

  “It’s not a problem. She’s right. We’re not using the trailer, and there’s no reason for you to freeze your ass off in a tent.”

  “Actually, my ass has managed to stay intact for the past couple of weeks. It’s not like it’s going to kill me to spend another couple sleeping on the ground.”