by R. K. Ryals
Cars honked, clicked on their blinkers, and then roared past, throwing me dirty looks as they veered around me.
My van crawled, my eyes scanning the side of the road.
Vines hugged the sign, protecting it. Hiding it.
I didn’t miss it. Lockston Orchard.
Swerving, I rolled the van into the drive, the vehicle bumping and jumping as I guided it off of the road and into an overgrown alcove. It wasn’t hidden in the least, but I didn’t care.
Stumbling from the driver’s seat, I stood in the grass, my heart thudding. My gaze rose to the winding lane. Bugs buzzed around my head. Some of them nipped at my skin, tasting me. I was in a storybook, a dream. A beautiful world that didn’t belong to me.
My legs weren’t listening to my brain. They carried me down the path, hiking up and over hills. Keeping to the trees, I snuck from one trunk to another, on and on until an impressive colonial house rose up from the ground like a stunning apparition.
Orange covered the world, shadows lengthening. Reaching, reaching. Light glared at me from the windows. Lace curtains fluttered. Figures moved within.
My gaze tracked the shapes, my body frozen, keeping its distance.
For a long time, I stared.
“I’m trying to decide which one of us is stalking whom?” a voice hissed from behind me.
I whipped around, coming face-to-face with Eli Lockston. Breath whooshed out of me, my back kissing the tree. The bark could open up and eat me now, and I’d be okay with that.
Eli’s eyes burned with curiosity. He’d changed since the gym, a clean tee and jeans hugging his towering frame.
His gaze caught on the streaks of dirt on my clothes. “What are you doing here, roof girl?”
A demon possessed my body, rambling words spilling forth, running away from me. “My family stayed in a cabin once in the mountains. Years before my mom died. It had one of those old PAC-Man arcade games in it. It was fun taking turns to see who could make it through the most levels. We stayed up for two days trying to see which of us could beat the other. So stupid, I guess. God, we literally overdosed on pizza and that senseless game. Like—”
“Is there a point to this?” Eli’s brows puckered. “Not that I’m against arcade games or anything.”
I inhaled and choked, my body sagging against the tree. I was a madwoman. Completely ridiculous. I was standing in front of a guy who wanted to see what it would take to make me cry, in a yard I hadn’t even been sure belonged to his family, and I was babbling about a game. A game!
“Oh, my God!” I exhaled, my hands covering my face. “This is stupid.” I sagged farther into the tree. My body knew exactly how bizarre this was, but my tongue didn’t know when to stop. It just kept going. “It’s funny,” I whispered. “I kind of feel like PAC-Man right now, like this ravenous yellow dot stuck in a maze trying to survive life while avoiding the ghosts.”
“Are you going to cry?” he asked me out of nowhere.
I glared. “No.”
Reaching out, he took me by the shoulders, tugged my body away from the tree, and released me. “Come with me.”
Like death hooking his bony finger, beckoning for me to follow.
I obeyed because I’m a lunatic.
FOURTEEN
Eli
When I saw her, I thought I’d conjured her up somehow, her small figure clinging to a tree, her gaze on the main house.
Watching.
For a long time, I spied on her.
She was frozen, like a paint-splattered statue. When I spoke, and she spun, I had the breath knocked out of me. Not because she was beautiful, even though she was, but because she was tragic. Sunburned skin. Black tank top and cut-off shorts covered in dirt.
One question, and the flood gates opened. Words tumbled out of her. Some of them made sense. Some of them didn’t.
The only thing I managed to catch was PAC-Man.
PAC-Man?
Who the hell answers a stalker question by talking about archaic video games? “Is there a point to this?” I asked. “Not that I’m against arcade games or anything.”
She fell apart. Not the way I thought she would. No sobbing mess. She just fell apart without actually coming to pieces.
“Oh, my God!” She covered her face with her hands. “This is stupid.” Her body sank into the tree. “It’s funny. I kind of feel like PAC-Man right now, like this ravenous yellow dot stuck in a maze trying to survive life while avoiding the ghosts.”
Her lips quivered, and I fought the urge to search my pockets for Kleenex. “Are you going to cry?”
She glared. “No.”
We were too close to the house. I didn’t give a shit if my family saw her, but somehow I didn’t think she wanted to be seen.
Reaching for her, I tugged her away from the tree. “Come with me.” A moment’s hesitation, and she followed me blindly. “What’d you do? Internet search me?” I asked, leading her into the orchard—from tree to tree, over hills, and up a slope that overlooked a pond in the valley below. The setting sun cast a line of gold across the dark water, shadow trees undulating in the gilded ripples.
“Wow,” Tansy breathed, yellow spots reflected in her eyes. Tiny suns in a sea of blue. “It’s incredible.”
The scene didn’t mean a damn thing to me. I’d quit seeing the beauty the moment I realized my mother was on the property.
“Are you just going to keep avoiding my stalker questions?” I asked.
Tansy winced, brushed a strand of hair off of her forehead, and looked at me. “I stopped and asked someone if they knew of any Lockstons in the area. My grandmother doesn’t have wifi, and I don’t have a phone. Just an iPod, and it’s—”
“Do you always over explain everything?” I leaned against a tree. The wind ruffled the leaves above us, rattling the silence.
She stiffened. “No, I …” Her gaze shot away, darting crazily before returning to me, and her lips pursed. “Wait a minute,” her finger jabbed the air, “who are you to insult me? You sought me out in an empty lot to spill a sob story about your mother.”
I would have taken offense at her words, but there was no animosity behind them. Only irritation. At me.
Patting my pocket, I found my cigarettes, pulled one free, and twirled it in my fingers. “She’s here, you know? My mom. She’s quite the socialite if you want to meet her.”
Tansy’s eyes widened, horrified. She waved at herself, at her dirty clothes and finger-mussed hair. “In this? What are you …” Her gaze caught mine, spotted the sarcasm there, and frowned. “You’re not serious.” She snorted. “Do you get off on being an asshole?”
I shrugged. “Not on being an asshole, but I do get off. Want to see?”
Startled heat shot through her eyes, sending answering flames to my groin. “Look,” she swallowed hard, banking the blaze, “I don’t even know why I came here. This was a really bad idea.”
Stumbling, she rushed blindly past me.
My hand shot out, catching her arm, my back no longer against the tree. “Wait.” She was hurting. I could see that. Hell, I could feel it. “I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I am an asshole. It’s habit.”
She froze, her gaze dropping to my hand, her chest heaving. My fingers burned. I loosened my grip, but I didn’t let go.
“Like the cigarettes?” she asked, her eyes rising to mine.
“Yeah.” I studied her face, noting the darkness that lurked in her gaze. “Call it a defense mechanism.”
Jerking away, she rubbed her arm. “Well, it’s working. I don’t feel the need to be all confessional anymore.”
“So I’m a priest now?” I joked. “Do you want to worship at the Church of Eli?”
She huffed, disgusted. “Get over yourself.” Her lips twitched, her head dropping to hide it.
I grinned. “You’re not trying to smile, are you?”
She gave me her back.
I circled her. “Oh no, you don’t!” Placing a finger under her chin, I lifted it
. “Laughing isn’t allowed at my church. It’s sacrilegious.”
A wave of emotions flitted across her face, her anger waging war with her mutinous humor. In the end, her ire lost the battle, a small chuckle escaping.
It felt like I’d hung the moon and airbrushed the stars.
“Did you need to make a confession?” I asked, suddenly serious.
My finger burned where I touched her, not just because of the sudden heat between us, but because her skin was too warm. A red flush covered her cheeks and nose.
“You look like shit,” I muttered.
She pulled her chin away. “Thanks for that.”
I didn’t apologize. “With that sunburn, you’re going to feel like hell tomorrow.”
“I was gardening.”
My eyes fell to her clothes. “Explains the dirt.”
Moving away from me, she sat on the edge of the slope, her arms wrapping around her knees, her gaze on the valley. “I’m not crazy,” she said, her chin falling to her legs. “I know it probably seems like it, right?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “I kind of feel like it sometimes.”
I didn’t know what to do so I joined her, sitting a comfortable distance apart, one leg kicked out in front of me. Lifting the cigarette I’d been holding between my lips, I tugged out a lighter and lit it. “I don’t think you’re crazy,” I remarked around the butt.
She sighed. “You probably should.” Lifting her head, she pointed at the valley. “I bet when you look at that you don’t see the same thing I do.” Her gaze flicked to my face. “It looks like someone spilled glitter from a plane, like there should be riches in gold down there. Like the sun had little jeweled babies and told them, ‘Hey, why don’t you go out into the world and poop prettiness’.”
A laugh flew out of me. “I definitely don’t see shitting sun babies.”
She smiled, and it transformed her face, making her look both younger and older. “There’s definitely shitting sun babies down there, and,” a wink, “you just proved my point. No one sees things the same way. Which kind of makes you wonder if we really see the world at all, or if we see some predestined messed up version of it? Maybe we’re all just part of some madman’s concoction.”
My brows rose. “I’ve changed my mind. Your head’s all broken.”
“Yours, too.” Her smile grew. “I mean, I’m sure people don’t wake up and think, ‘Oh, my God, I’m so broken.’ You know? I think we’re all broken. Just a little. Like life starts off that way, and then the rest of your life is spent mending the broken path. Makes sense, right? Because otherwise, we’d all be sitting around with our thumbs up our asses. Nothing to do. No messes to clean up.”
Something about her words caught me off guard, made me peer a little closer at her. It was like she was trying to convince herself of something.
“You’re not okay, are you?” I asked quietly.
Her gaze shot to me. “What?”
“You,” I continued. “You aren’t okay.” My thoughts flew to the day we met. “If I hadn’t been on the hospital roof that morning, what would you have done?”
Her eyes widened. “Are you asking me if I’m suicidal?”
I didn’t ease up. “Are you?”
She swallowed, her throat working. One hand fell to the ground, lit by a ray of setting sun. The black polish on her nails had chipped, leaving short, jagged edges that drew attention to the dirt caked beneath them.
“I don’t know,” she finally whispered. “I don’t want to die if that’s what you mean.”
I’d never known anyone who could say so much without ever having said anything. “I don’t think people who take their lives really want to die.”
She let her head fall back. “You know that how?”
“I don’t.” My gaze slid to the valley. “I just don’t see how anyone could ever really want to die. I think it’s deeper than that.” I looked at her again. “I think there are other reasons.”
Her eyes brightened, her lips turning down. “Why am I here?” she asked, redirecting the conversation. “You don’t even like women. You hate them.”
I wasn’t about to tell her different. I’d be lying if I did. “I haven’t had a lot of good examples to go by, but that doesn’t mean I hate you. I love my sister. She’s a woman. I’m just not looking for a relationship with them. Fucking isn’t a relationship.”
A snorted laugh escaped her. “I shouldn’t find that comforting, but I do.” Her fingers curled into the ground. “What my sister said at the boxing club … she’s right, you know. I helped him die.” She glanced at me, her eyes full of paralyzing turmoil. “I helped my father die.”
I wasn’t equipped for something like this, for the overwhelming guilt and condemnation I saw in her.
Shifting, I pulled my leg up and reached for my pocket. I’d barely finished one cigarette, and I already needed another. My hand came up empty.
Shit.
“Tansy—”
“This was wrong.” She started to get up.
“Stop.” I gestured at the ground. “Quit trying to leave, okay? My head just needs a minute. I don’t really do the whole deep thing.”
Standing anyway, she came to me, her eyes darkening.
I knew that look. “Oh, hell—”
Placing a hand gently over my mouth, she climbed over me, sinking into my lap, her legs straddling me. “Less talk, okay.”
My dick agreed with her, rising to attention.
The smell of wet soil kept my head clear, even if my body didn’t give a shit. Pushing her hand away, I let my palms drop to her hips, gripping her. “As interested as I am … really—”
She wiggled her bottom.
“Holy hell,” I swore. “Are you trying to seduce me, roof girl?”
Her gaze met mine, her face so close I could see the different layers of green in her eyes. Like a field of pine trees full of emeralds and flowing water.
“Seems like it’s working,” she breathed.
She brought her arms up, snaking them around my neck.
My grip tightened on her hips, drawing her closer against me, grinding my arousal against her despite all of the alarms going off in my head. It felt good. Way too good.
“Shit,” I cursed, my teeth clenched. It took everything I had to push her away, but I did. Keeping her near my lap, I picked her up gently and moved her back so that she was sitting on the ground just inside my legs, her arms falling. My thighs caged her in. “God, I’m going to get some kind of monk award for this someday, I know it,” I gritted, staring at her. “We can’t.”
Tansy exhaled, her face falling. No tears or embarrassment, just acquiescence. She didn’t say anything. She didn’t have to. As much as I hated to admit it, she wasn’t the type of person who would use someone. I could deal with the using kind of people because I was one of them. I wasn’t sure how to deal with her.
My hands left her waist, but I didn’t back away from her.
“This isn’t rejection,” I pointed out.
Why the hell was I saying that? Of course, it was.
“I know,” she replied. “I shouldn’t have done that.”
My body disagreed with her on so many levels. “I don’t know if I’d go that far …”
Her brows rose.
I cleared my throat. “Damn it, Tansy. You’ve got too many issues. We both do.”
She gave me a weak smile. “You can’t forgive her, can you?”
The girl could change topics of conversation faster than I could keep up. There were only two hers she knew about. “Who? My mother or my fiancée?” I asked, confused.
“Both.”
My breath left me, and with it, my resolve. “So, we’re back to me now?” Laughing, I shook my head. “You like to do that, you know. Change direction. You do it with your sister, too. How often have you done that? How often have you helped those closest to you? Enough to hide your problems? Enough to make them think there’s nothing wrong with you?”
Tansy’s f
ace changed, her expression twisting. “Fuck you!” she spat, standing.
“You were just going to,” I said calmly, standing with her. She walked away from me, her back going rigid when I added, “And I wanted to.”
She froze, turning. “Then why did you stop me?”
“Because when you worship at the Church of Eli, you do it with a clear head.” I studied her. “You didn’t kill your father, Tansy. He did that to himself.”
Her whole face crumpled. “I stayed with him. I took him to the liquor stores. I filled his medications.” She gazed at me, her eyes hard. “I even drank with him, Eli. Because I needed it, too, at the time. I needed it! I needed to forget that my mother was gone, that I wasn’t in school anymore, and that my father didn’t want to live. He just didn’t want to be here.”
“You’re angry,” I said matter-of-factly.
She didn’t answer.
“I would have been angry,” I told her. “I would have been furious as hell that he didn’t want to try.”
She ran her fingers through her hair. “I should have stopped him.”
“Maybe,” I answered, startling her.
She was spiraling and lying to her wasn’t going to make it any better. She needed to face her guilt and overcome it.
“You’re not that hot,” she said suddenly.
Again with the misdirection.
A startled snort left me. “What?”
“You,” she gestured at me. “You aren’t that sexy.”
“The hell?”
She shrugged. “This draw … whatever it is between us. I don’t get it, I guess.” She shook her head. “Church of Eli, my ass.”
Two strides, and I was in front of her, one arm circling her waist, the other drawing her chin up. My lips crashed onto hers, harsh and desperate. Short but effective.
“Say I’m not sexy,” I panted, pulling back.
Her breath came fast when she whispered, “Now, I know how to seduce you. That ego of yours is your weakness.” Her gaze rose to mine. “And you taste like cigarettes.”
I laughed, because let’s face it, she had me. “I’ll start keeping gum on me.”
“Or quit smoking,” she suggested.