“Anita, what are you saying?” Shot whines, but she ignores him.
“I want her to come,” I say.
Jason’s eyes turn flinty, but he abruptly lowers the gun. He mutters something, and I’m glad I can’t make it out. Shot continues to beg and plead. Anita doesn’t seem to even hear him.
Barely twenty minutes later, Jason and I are in the car, two new passengers and an ungodly number of suitcases crammed into the back.
“So long, sucker,” Anita screams gleefully as Jason accelerates down the street.
Wabash adds a joyous howl to the celebration.
Because of the dog, finding rooms for the night is more complicated than usual, and we stop at three hotels before we find one that will accept us. It’s also more expensive—albeit nicer—than our usual accommodations.
Jason lets me shower first. The soap smells like an herb garden, and the water stays hot the whole time.
When I emerge, Jason rolls off the bed and tosses his phone aside.
“We should leave Anita here,” he mumbles as he strips off his shirt and chucks it in the general direction of his suitcase.
“Shh,” I say.
“How can she hear me? They’re on the ground floor and on the other side of the hotel.”
He’s right, of course. “I like her,” I say. “And she’s helping us.”
“She’s slowing us down.” He rubs his forehead. “And if that dog throws up one more time, I’m donating her to a wolf sanctuary.”
He’ll do no such thing. Jason has a softer side. He didn’t kill Shot, after all.
Just maimed him.
I shudder.
Jason touches my shoulder. “Are you all right?”
“Yes.”
He sits on the edge of the bed, less than a foot from me. “DeeAnn, you know I would never hurt you.”
My heart pounds. “I don’t think you’re lying, but I bet Shot thought you wouldn’t hurt him, either.”
“Shot knew there was a chance.” With slow movements, Jason tucks a loose lock of hair behind my ear, then trails a finger down the side of my face. “I understand why you don’t believe me. In your place, I’d be wary. People aren’t reliable. Everyone I ever needed has let me down, and I think it’s the same for you.”
“My father didn’t let me down,” I protest.
“He’s not here, is he?”
A wave of anger rises in my chest. “He got sick and died.”
“I didn’t say it was his fault, just that he let you down.”
It’s such a warped way of looking at the world that I’m speechless for several long seconds. In that moment, I understand so much.
“Someone you loved died,” I say quietly. “Who?”
Jason doesn’t reply.
Normally, I would let it go, add it to the other questions he doesn’t answer. But this time I can’t. I don’t need to know how many people he’s killed or if he’s been in jail.
But this is different.
“You don’t have to tell me,” I say, “but it’s unfair. You know about the heartbreak in my life, and I know nothing about you.”
He says something then, so quiet that I can’t hear. I wait, and then he raises his head and looks me in the eye. He reminds me of a wounded animal, dangerous to anyone who would help because it doesn’t understand its pain.
I know Jason is going to say something awful. Tell me to fuck off, that it’s none of my business, that we’ll be parting ways soon.
“Katie. My older sister.”
The way he says it, I know he was young when it happened. My heart breaks for him.
Should I touch him? Say something?
Instead, I do what Jason would do. I remain quiet and I listen, letting him come to me.
“Katie had a rare cancer. So rare that the best doctors money could buy all missed it. A year of appointments and tests, and she just got sicker. We were at the hospital so often that the nurses stored some of my toys for me.
“After she was diagnosed, Katie spent more time at the hospital than at home. My parents forgot I existed, and to be honest, so did I. Some kids get resentful, but…” He shakes his head, smiling sadly, his gaze a million miles away. “She died when I was fourteen and she was fifteen. Katie was the best person I’ve ever known. She was very kind, but headstrong. Opinionated. She could take a stance on anything, then change her mind the next day and be just as stubborn.”
His smile fades, and finally he shrugs and looks at me, crossing his arms over his chest. “That’s who I lost. It’s not original. It didn’t bankrupt my family or give me a reason to apply to medical school. I had a sister. Now I don’t.”
“I’m sorry. But… I don’t agree. That would be like me saying I don’t have parents. Which is ridiculous, right? They’re just not here. You still have a sister. She’s just not here.”
Jason makes a half shrug. I don’t know if I’m allowed to touch him, or if it’s too intimate.
I don’t care. I throw my arms around him and squeeze.
At first he’s stiff, and it’s like trying to hug a chair.
Then his arms enfold me. A few seconds later, he pulls me close.
“Thank you,” he whispers. “You’re a decent person. If you can put up with me, maybe I’m not beyond redemption.”
Is he joking? But before I can speak, he pulls away and walks into the bathroom. A moment later, the shower turns on.
I pace in the small room, waiting for him. Jason’s showers are never long. I think about what he told me.
When he does return, he immediately gets into bed and switches off his light.
Slipping into bed beside him, I ponder what to do to ease his pain. “Jason—”
“There are things we have to talk about in the morning. About AJ and Toby. Things you need to know. But I need to sleep now. Good night, sweetness.” He kisses me, then turns over.
I turn off my light.
Sweetness.
Until now, our nicknames for each other have been limited to insults or faking a relationship for other people. Maybe Anita is right. Maybe this thing between us is real, has substance and depth.
Or at least the potential to become real.
Strange to realize that now, after Jason has shut me out. He needs his space, and I appreciate that he’s made the effort to show he’s not mad at me. This subject is too painful for him, even after all this time. Losing his sister destroyed him, and clearly he’s floundering in some unhealthy stage of grieving.
Except floundering implies struggle. Movement. I think Jason is… frozen, trapped and immobile.
He can barely talk about her. About Katie. I bet he’s never confided in anyone about how his life changed after her death.
For a long time, I lie awake, blinking up in the dark, thinking about all the things Jason is incapable of saying.
Part III
Chapter 39
I’m standing on a beach, a towel draped around my shoulders even though I’m dressed and dry. I clutch a folded blanket to my chest. My hair—now blond—whips around my face.
So this is southern California.
It’s nothing like I expected. Aren’t the beaches supposed to be crowded with sunbathers and hot surfers? Instead, the water is cold and dark gray. There are seals, though, little gray blobs that I can barely see on a jetty. That hasn’t prevented me from watching them for almost an hour, mesmerized.
“Still staring at the sea lions?” Jason asks from behind me. He nuzzles the back of my neck. “I’m ready for breakfast,” he says, moving away.
“Sea lions,” I say, disappointed.
I’m surprised Jason noticed at all. He’s been more focused on the mostly empty parking lot and the drunk people sleeping beside an overturned shopping cart.
Jason is always on high alert.
Wabash sprints to the water and dances with the surf, trying to keep from getting wet.
“This place is great!” Anita declares, linking her arm through mine. The folded
blanket nearly slips out of my grasp, but Anita either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care as she drags me toward the parking lot.
Over four months have passed since the night we left Shot bleeding on his sofa.
We ended up in the Colorado mountains and stayed for longer than we’d planned, where I breathed air so clean that I thought I could live forever. The Rockies got too cold, so we headed to southern New Mexico. Anita’s fake documents are identical to the real thing, but she can’t get us passports, so we stay clear of the border.
And now we’re here. California. Go west and find your fortune, right?
My new name is Marjorie. It seemed like a good idea at the time, but I wish I’d chosen something that rhymes with my real name. Because Jason (who is now Mason) and Anita (who changes her name every month), only ever call me DeeAnn. Sometimes I forget that I’m supposed to be Marjorie.
“You wanna get your dog?” Jason asks, passing us. He’s lugging our cooler as well as two duffels of cash. We haven’t been here long enough to put it in a safe-deposit box.
Once we decide on our next temporary home, we’ll set all that up again.
Anita makes a one-eighty to deal with whatever trouble Wabash has stirred up. I continue up the beach, then onto the firm, reliable footing of the parking lot. I don’t like beaches much, probably because of that tsunami when I was a kid. It was always on the news, never-ending footage of hungry water. It left an impression.
Jason smiles at me from beside our SUV. The rear door is raised, and I can see that the cooler is already slotted into place. Anita has become a much more efficient packer, but five of the seven suitcases are hers.
“This, too. I don’t want sand all over the seats.” I hand Jason the blanket. He stuffs it between two suitcases.
“Do you like it here?” he asks.
I shrug. “It’s only been a few hours, but… I don’t know. I feel exposed.”
“Yeah.” He glances around, runs a hand through his dark hair. His undercut needs a touch-up, but he looks hotter than ever. “I know what you mean,” he says. “Like there’s nowhere to hide.”
This has always been an issue, and it’s one of the reasons we’re still on the move. Anita tends to like open places, lively and full of people, but she’s not hiding for her life. Thanks to a few dramatic phone calls with Shot, he believes we left her at the airport, and she flew home to be near her family. No one knows the truth, that we’ve stuck together.
Wabash bounds over and Jason scratches her ears affectionally before opening the door to the rear seat. She jumps in and patiently waits for him to snap on her seatbelt harness.
“This is it,” Anita says. “Guys. Do you know what I’m saying?”
“This is it?” I repeat. “Whatever that means.”
“Here. This is where I’m settling. My heart is telling me, and I gotta listen to my heart.”
Anita said that about the last few places we stayed, but then she got bored. We all got bored and somehow all decided to go.
It’s been a long time since anyone has talked about the three of us splitting up. Jason and I are a couple, and Anita is the sister I never had. We always rent houses large enough that we don’t have to see each other if we don’t want to. Some weeks, we have dinner together almost every night. Other weeks, Jason and I don’t see Anita or Wabash at all.
It works for us.
They’re my family.
“I’m serious this time,” Anita says. “I’ll find a house for us while we eat breakfast.”
She will, too. She’s got an uncanny ability to locate the most amazing homes in about thirty seconds. And landlords never turn her down. It helps that she’s got perfect credit and six figures in the bank—none of which came from our money. When I ask her about it, she gets an impish smile and says she “clips coupons.”
We eat on the spacious patio of a diner-bar-restaurant hybrid. The duffel bags sit at our feet, along with Wabash. Sunshine filters through the tall bluish shrubs separating the restaurant from the physical rehab facility next door. At first our spot is warm and magical, but soon we have to drag our table back several feet so we don’t melt into puddles.
Anita is hunched over her tablet, scouring ads. She’s fashioned a headband from a blue bandana that was originally supposed to be for Wabash. It’s decorated with a strand of fake pearls she picked up somewhere. Anita’s thick, slightly curled mane of hair looks photoshoot ready. You’d never know we went to bed late and got up early to drive.
“So many phenomenal homes,” she murmurs. “Like this one. This is… wow. Look at that pool.”
I tug the tablet away from her. Easy to do since that was her plan all along.
“It is nice.” I scroll through the photos, definitely professional shots. “There’s a pool? How much…” I shove the tablet back at her. “Nope.”
“It’s not like we can’t afford it,” she protests. “Central air, four bathrooms, soundproofing.” She gives me a pointed look.
Blushing, I say, “We can’t afford it. Not really.”
“When will we be here again?” she asks. “Shouldn’t we make the most of our trip?”
I give her a skeptical look. “You said this was it, where you want to settle. Are we stopping for a while, or are we passing through?”
“Both,” Anita says, and smiles.
A waitress in a frilly apron stops by to refill our coffee cups. Jason and Anita have me hooked on drinking the stuff every morning.
“I love the area,” Anita says, “but if you don’t, we can explore farther north. Maybe Washington. Rainforests sound so romantic.”
Her eyes get a dazed look. Anita and I talk a lot, but she’s still a mystery to me. Jason and I are on the run, waiting until we find somewhere that feels safe. Anita is searching for something, but I don’t know what. I don’t think even she knows. She just says she was tied down for too long and now “this girl needs to see things.”
While Anita and I argue about the definition of affordable, Jason snags the tablet. “Hm. Price aside, could you live in a place like that?” His eyes probe mine.
“Yeah, of course, but the price isn’t aside.”
“We could ask if they’d accept less.”
I motion for Jason to give me the tablet, and I look again. It’s gorgeous, with vaulted ceilings and ginormous windows overlooking a flower paradise surrounding a pool. Probably a dream house for people who are into that sort of thing.
“Pets not allowed,” I say.
“What?” Anita snatches the tablet from me, then curses. “Why do the filters keep resetting?”
Jason’s blue eyes meet mine, and a knowing smile spreads across his face. “Soundproofing?” he says low enough for only me to hear.
Even though I roll my eyes, I really want to reach out, lace my fingers through his. Four months isn’t nothing, and we’ve spent all those days together. Not once have I gotten tired of him.
Not once have I regretted meeting him.
“Found it.” Anita stands partially up and places the tablet between me and Jason. “That’s our next house. Price is good, plenty of space, huge yard, no nearby neighbors.”
“No pool?” I ask, teasing her.
“Walking distance to shops and bars and restaurants, but the street itself is quiet. And the house is furnished.”
“Looks good to me,” Jason says, and I nod my agreement even though I’ve barely glanced at the unassuming bungalow.
“How long?” Anita asks. “One-month minimum, but we get five percent off if we sign a lease for longer.”
I shrug. Jason says, “Let’s start with a month.”
Anita quickly sends a message to the rental company while Jason pays for breakfast.
“Let’s go check it out,” she says as we’re walking to the SUV. “The area where the house is.”
As I pull out of the parking lot, Anita’s phone rings. She answers using her professional voice.
“This is she.” Pause. “That’s correct.�
� Pause. “She’s calm, well trained, and I’ve got references.” Pause. “She’s a lab mix.” Pause. “We’ll meet you then. Thank you.”
“What time?” I ask, stopping for a red light.
“We should head over now.” Anita sends the address to the SUV’s in-dash navigation.
The house isn’t as nice as in the photos. The rooms reek of paint, and I think the manager hired a cousin or a buddy to do it fast and cheap, because the outlets and even some of the doors have white on them. The wood floor is creaky, with old, dark stains in several areas.
But the furniture is newer, and the kitchen, while boring, is in good condition.
“Works for me,” I say. Anita nods. Jason generally only speaks up when he has objections.
It’s unanimous.
I drift toward the window and survey the empty back yard, which is mostly gravel, punctuated by tufts of rangy grass.
“Resistant to drought,” the manager hollers.
This place will be my next home. I’m not in love, but I can imagine it growing on me. Our new neighborhood is adorably scruffy, and there’s a certain earnestness and honesty that I appreciate. Instead of cultivated flowers, the neighbors have opted to let the indigenous plants shine. The sidewalks are in good repair, and I didn’t see any litter. And San Diego isn’t far away, for when we want a real city.
One day, we have to stop running.
Why not here?
The floor groans to announce that someone is approaching. We’ll definitely want to buy rugs. Jason kisses my neck. “You like it here, don’t you?”
“It’d be nice to stay put for longer. Like a year.”
“Yeah.” He wraps his arms around me. I sigh and lean against the solidity of his chest.
“And if Anita gets bored and wants to move on, we can afford the rent ourselves.”
“We don’t have to worry about money,” Jason says.
“I want to get a job. An office job. I want to wear blouses and skirts.”
“You’re not normal,” he says, but there’s a note of pride in his voice. In Colorado I worked as a cashier in a resort gift shop. Jason sometimes stopped by to flirt. I think he secretly yearns for a normal life, but he’s not cut out for employment.
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