Dirty Talk

by Megan Erickson

  “Is that everyone?” Brent asked, depositing the kid on the ground. It was then he finally began to feel the cold, which he’d tried to ignore until now. His boots were soaking, fifty-pound weights on his feet and the thick denim of his jeans was like ice on his skin. His T-shirt clung to his chest and back, while his hair dripped water into his eyes.

  The bus driver’s face was twitching, and he began to count again.

  Brent’s stomach rolled. “Hey, man, are we missing anyone?”

  The bus driver’s lips were moving as he counted the kids in his head. And then he turned to Brent, misery, exhaustion, and a little bit of guilt on his face as he swallowed. “We’re missing one.”

  Brent turned around immediately, telling himself to stay calm, to focus. The creek was moving fast but not too fast. If the kid could swim, he or she would have a chance. He waded back into the water, ignoring the burning in his thighs and the shock of the water that wasn’t getting any warmer. He surged past the bus, which was empty, and headed in the direction of the current. The water got deeper with every step. The bed of the creek was unstable from the rain, and he slipped on rocks and sank into the dirt in other places. The water was up to his chest now. Fuck, the kid probably got swept up . . .

  There.

  His eyes honed in on a flash of a color. Pink. About thirty feet down the creek, tucked into a notch in the bank. It wasn’t the type of pink that would be natural on a flower. No, this was fuchsia. And it was sparkly. He didn’t pray, but he did something mighty close to that as he took a deep breath and dove under the water.

  IVY WAS OUT of her mind. She tried to concentrate on the road, because the last thing that needed to happen was for her to get into an accident too, but she couldn’t think straight.

  Violet had to be okay; she just had to be okay.

  She’d heard about the accident over the radio while she was on her way to pick up Violet from the bus stop. They’d said her school and the bus number, and Ivy had almost thrown up.

  She knew where Dead Man’s Curve was. It was one of the first places she’d learned about when she moved to Tory, because the controversy over the construction was all over the papers.

  She had to stay calm. Deep breaths. There was nothing she could do until she got to the scene of the accident and held Violet in her arms. Saw her with her eyes. Could feel her little heart beating in her little chest.

  Violet was Ivy’s heart. The heart that walked around outside of Ivy’s body and wore a tiara and meant the world to her.

  The tears threatened, blurring her eyes, but she blinked them away. The curve was just ahead, and she took it slow, hearing the blare of sirens and seeing the flashing of lights. There were flares in the road, directing traffic around the accident. Ahead, kids were huddled on the side of the road, with blankets draped over their shoulders.

  She parked her car and got out, not caring where her car was, if someone hit it, or if she was allowed. Who cared, when all that mattered was making sure Violet was okay? She ran toward the cluster of children, scanning all the faces for the blue eyes of her daughter. The longer it took to find those eyes, the more frantic she got. Every muscle in her body tightened as the scream rose up in her throat. Because that’s what she wanted to do—scream her lungs out until Violet magically appeared in front of her, unhurt and whole.

  She glanced down the side of the road. There was the bus on its side in the creek, its underbelly in full view.

  She grabbed a police officer who was standing with a mother and her son. “I’m sorry, but I’m looking for my daughter,” she said frantically. “Her name is Violet Dawn, and she’s small, blue eyes, dark hair . . . ” Her voice trailed off as the officer studied her silently.

  The man was young—very young—and clearly a little out of his element. His gaze shifted to the creek, and her heart dropped into her throat. “Just give me a minute, ma’am.”

  “Are all the children accounted for?” she whispered, unable to make her voice do what it was supposed to do.

  “Ma’am,” the police officer said again. But the mom standing beside them, holding her son, cut him off. Her eyes were full of sympathy, as only another parent’s could be. “They are missing one student.”

  Ivy’s knees crumpled. The police officer slung an arm around her shoulders, but she shrugged him off and ran to the creek, still scanning every face. Every single one, looking for Vi’s. But she didn’t see her.

  They are missing one student. The words pounded in her head, over and over again. This wasn’t okay. Tory was their fresh start. They were going to start over. “Violet!” she screamed over the rushing water, over the carcass of the bus that she wanted to light on fire. “Violet! Baby!”

  Movement. There, in the corner of her eye, down the bank of the creek. Pink. There was pink.

  Ivy slid into the water, and her sneakers slipped on a rock. She flailed and grabbed the branch of a bush to catch herself. She took a deep breath, closing her eyes, and then she straightened up again, preparing to walk forward.

  But what she saw made her stop in her tracks as the cold water of the creek swirled around her bare legs.

  A man. A tall, dark-haired, soaking-wet man was carrying a little girl in his arms. Her arms were flung around his neck; her face was buried in his chest. Her knees were hooked over his forearms, while his other arm supported her back.

  The man was Brent Payton. And the girl was Violet Dawn.

  Ivy fisted her hands on her cheeks as the tears began to flow freely.

  Brent plowed through the water toward her, fighting the current as it tried to push him back. The water parted for him as he walked, as if his denim-covered thighs were Moses. He clutched Violet to his chest, holding her well above the surface. His dark hair was matted to his head, bangs hanging over his forehead. His mouth was open; his nostrils flared as he used all his strength to deliver Ivy’s daughter into her arms.

  When he stood in front of her, she flung her arms around her daughter, nuzzling into the pink dress with sparkly unicorns that Violet had picked out just that morning. She sobbed into her daughter’s side, as Violet held onto Brent, shivering.

  Ivy pulled her head back, knowing this wasn’t the time to break down, while they were still standing in the creek, and the rain continued to pour down.

  Brent licked his lips as water dripped from his bangs and the end of his nose. “She’s okay,” he said, his voice hoarse. “Scared, but okay.”

  This wasn’t the Brent who made crude jokes or teased her. This wasn’t even the man who called her daughter Princess and showed her how to perform an oil change.

  This was a man who took charge, who knew what mattered, who delivered her daughter to her in once piece. This was a man who was a hero.

  “Thank you,” she whispered, still unable to give her voice any tone. “Thank you so much.”

  His eyes fell closed in a slow blink. He pressed a kiss to the top of Violet’s head and then transferred her to Ivy’s arms. “You’re welcome.”

  IVY SAT WITH her daughter in the back of the ambulance while the paramedic checked her over. Despite the rain, the temperature wasn’t too low, so although Violet was cold, she wasn’t in danger of hypothermia.

  Apparently Violet had escaped the bus but lost her tiara in the process. When it was floating away, she thought she could grab it, but the current was too strong and took her with it. Thank God Ivy had sprung for swim lessons last year, or she didn’t want to think about what could have happened.

  And thank God Brent had been driving by when he did.

  Violet said she had heard splashing as she clung to a tree root jutting out from the bank. When she looked up, Brent was there, and he quickly scooped her up in his arms. “He’s strong, Mommy,” Violet had said.

  Ivy kept her arm wrapped around her daughter’s shoulders, but her eyes continually strayed to where Brent stood talking with some police officers, gesturing to the bus.

  He still hadn’t put on a coat, and although th
e rain had let up somewhat, he was still dripping. His T-shirt clung to his torso, so that she could see the outline of all his muscles, the ones he’d used to carry her daughter to safety . . .

  She shook her head and gripped Violet tighter. No. Now was not the time to lust after her daughter’s rescuer. But that didn’t stop her from sneaking glances at Brent and then ducking her head as he turned to walk toward them.

  When he reached the ambulance, he bent over so he could look Violet in the eye. “Doing okay, Princess?”

  Violet bit her lip. “I was really scared.”

  “It’s okay you were scared,” he said. “I would have been too.”

  “But you’re big,” Violet said, cocking her head to the side.

  “Yeah, but I wasn’t always this big. When I was your age, I was pretty little.”

  “Really?” She looked doubtfully at him.

  He smiled. “I was; swear to God.”

  Violet looked down at her hands in her lap. “I lost my tiara.”

  Brent’s gaze shifted to Ivy’s.

  She rubbed her daughter’s arm. “We’ll get you a new one.”

  “I bet some fish is wearing your crown right now. Or maybe a squirrel.” Brent grinned.

  Violet giggled. “It’s too big for a squirrel!”

  “Hey now, there might be some big-headed squirrels out there. Ya never know.”

  Ivy grinned in spite of herself. Brent was like a big kid when he was around Violet, although he sure stepped up to be the adult when it mattered.

  Like when Violet was almost drowning.

  A tremor traced down Ivy’s spine as she thought about all that could have happened. Brent straightened, his mouth immediately turning down. “You cold?” He glanced at the paramedic. “You have an extra blanket or something for Ivy here?” He didn’t even wait for an answer. “I have one in my truck—”

  “It’s okay,” Ivy said, as she accepted a blanket from the paramedic. “I’m okay. I think it’s just the adrenaline leaving my body. Don’t you need a coat?”

  He shrugged. “I’m the guy shoveling snow in shorts. I think my internal thermometer is off or something.”

  “I don’t want you to get a cold . . . ”

  His lips twitched. “Gee, Ivy, if I didn’t know better, I’d think you cared or something.”

  She pressed her lips together and stared at a spot over Brent’s shoulder so she didn’t have to look into those dangerous pale eyes. “I never said I didn’t care.”

  When she finally met his gaze, she wished she hadn’t, because they were simmering, smoldering, so much so that she was surprised the rain hitting him didn’t sizzle.

  And then he looked away, which was good, because she wasn’t sure she had the power to do it herself.

  He leaned in and brushed his fingers over Violet’s cheek. “I’m gonna head out, kid. Take it easy on your mom, okay?”

  “Thank you,” Violet said, “for finding me.”

  “Of course.” Brent made to turn away, and Ivy unstuck her tongue from the roof of her mouth.

  “Thank you,” she nearly shouted.

  He stopped and looked at her over his shoulder. “You already said that, but you’re welcome.”

  “I just . . . ” Her voice wavered. “I really want you to know . . . how much . . . just how much I mean it.” Her voice was a whisper by the time she finished stammering.

  He smiled then, a slight one. “I know you mean it.” And then he walked off, and she tried not to stare at his back—the way the muscles shifted beneath his wet shirt, the way his dark hair clung to his scalp.

  She didn’t succeed. Not at all.

  Chapter Five

  BRENT’S EYES SCANNED the fence on the far side of the dog park, where Honeybear was sniffing the ground. Once he caught sight of her, he sighed and settled on the bench, bracing his arms along the back.

  Davis was beside him, hands resting lightly on the wheels of his chair. Brent eyed him. “How you doing?”

  Davis had made it clear that spending time in a public park was not his idea of a fun time. But Brent thought he might like it, and he’d kind of made it his mission to get Davis out of the house.

  Davis shrugged. “Fine, I guess.”

  “Everyone’s staring at you and whispering and stuff.” Brent widened his eyes dramatically. “It’s cray uncomfortable.”

  Davis shoved Brent’s shoulder. “Shut up.”

  “You glad I made you come out?”

  “Sure. You’re kinda hard to say no to.”

  “I mean, if you don’t want me to make you come out, I’ll stop. But I’m thinking . . . you wanna get to the point where you’re more comfortable, right?”

  Davis stared off in the distance. “Yeah, yeah, I do.” Brent smiled, and Davis turned to him. “You just wanna see if having a friend in a wheelchair gets you more attention from women.”

  Brent barked out a laugh. “Nah, I got a dog for that.”

  Davis grinned big. “Oh, and I forgot; you got a woman now.”

  “I don’t got a woman.”

  “You dove into a creek for this woman to save a kid.”

  “She’s not just some kid,” Brent mumbled, toeing loose a rock beneath his shoe.

  Davis raised an eyebrow. “Oh right, she’s a kid with a hot mom.”

  Brent leaned forward. “She is . . . more than hot. But it’s not just that. I like her kid. Violet is . . . vulnerable.” He didn’t know if that was the right word, but it was the first that sprang to mind. “Impressionable too,” he added. “Man, when I got to where she was struggling not to get swept downstream, and I realized it was her, I thought my heart was gonna give out.”

  Davis wasn’t joking with him anymore. “That was a good thing you did.”

  “What else was I gonna do? Stand around with my thumb up my ass? Of course I was gonna help.”

  Davis shook his head. “I’ve been in a lot of emergency situations, man, and you wouldn’t believe how many people freeze up. It’s not that they’re wrong or bad people, but it takes a certain kind of person to react the right way in situations like that. From what you said, you didn’t freeze up. You acted. That matters—that that was your first instinct.”

  Brent thought back to the scene—his truck door open, keys still in the ignition while he struggled through the waist-deep water.

  He rubbed his hands together, picking at the calluses on his palms. He’d always wondered if that was something he’d be good at, if he’d react right in those situations. And he’d proved to himself that he did have the right instincts. “I always wanted to do that, you know?”

  Davis was studying him. “What do you mean?”

  Brent searched for Honeybear and found her playing around with a beagle. “Help people.”

  “You do help people, Brent.”

  “I know that, but . . . ”

  “You do a service that’s needed. It’s important to people for their cars to work and work properly, to be serviced by someone they trust. That’s you.”

  No, that’s Cal and Jack, he thought. “Everyone knows me as the guy who makes jokes and doesn’t take anything seriously. It’s easier to play into that than try to convince everyone I’m someone else. Like a self-fulfilling prophecy and all that.” He shrugged. “I always wanted to do more.”

  But he’d never worked up the courage. He didn’t want his dad to frown at him or for Cal to look at him like he was crazy. Or his friends to laugh at him.

  And so he’d kept his mouth shut and continued working at the garage, all while looking longingly at the fire station, like a little boy. He’d wanted to be a firefighter at five and never grew out of it. But what would Davis say if Brent told him he wanted to do the exact thing that put Davis in a wheelchair? So he stayed silent, and brooded, and watched Honeybear yap her way across the dog park.

  “You can still do more. How old are you?”

  “Twenty-eight.”

  “Just a baby, then.” Davis smiled.

  B
rent didn’t want to talk about it anymore. He’d done the right thing that day in the rain, but that had been it. He hadn’t seen Ivy or Violet, although Alex had been extra civil to him. She hadn’t said anything about the accident, but the next day at work, she’d plunked down an entire container of homemade chili in front of him. And another container of cookies.

  There was a note on top of the cookies, with “Thank you, Brent,” written in looped handwriting. He didn’t know if Alex or Ivy wrote it, but he pretended it was Ivy. He slipped the note in his wallet when Alex wasn’t looking.

  That chili was amazing, and the chocolate chip cookies were delicious.

  The next day, she’d brought in some sort of homemade shrimp-fried rice. And the next day, a cheesy chicken casserole. No more notes, but Brent made sure to eat the entire serving and then return the clean containers to Alex.

  He didn’t need any of it, though. They could have been complete strangers; he could have never seen them again. He still would have done the same thing all over again. He’d made a difference in their lives for the better.

  Violet was safe. Ivy was happy. That was what mattered. They didn’t owe him anything. The food was just a bonus.

  Davis whistled, and Honeybear came trotting over to the gate in the fence. Brent stood up and opened it, and the dog jogged through and went right to Davis. Brent scowled at them. “Seriously?”

  “She likes me,” Davis said in response.

  Brent rolled his eyes. “She’s my dog.”

  “I’m like her fun uncle.”

  A couple was watching them, a curious look on their faces. Brent’s lips curled into a smirk and he placed his hand on Davis’s shoulder. “Come on, baby. Time to go home.”

  Davis froze but jerked his head in Brent’s direction. “What the—”

  “I know this was fun, but I could really use those big strong hands of yours to massage this muscle in my glute.”

  Davis blinked at him and then shook his head. “I’m moving out.”

  Brent laughed as Davis wheeled away, muttering, with Honeybear on his heels. The couple continued to stare at Brent as he walked behind Davis’s chair. Brent winked at them.