“Two kids, you mean,” she corrected him, folding her arms over her chest. She thought for a minute, giving him a stern look. “You’ll have him back by one?”
“Cross my heart,” Dylan said solemnly, making the gesture across his chest.
“All right,” she said reluctantly. “But only if he hits the books tonight.”
Dylan reached over the top of the load of dirty dishes that separated them and put a finger beneath her chin, tilting her head up for a kiss. “You’re a pushover, you know that, don’t you?”
“Only when it comes to certain people,” she murmured as he kissed her again.
“We’ll bring you back another line of trout,” he whispered, his hand slowly moving along her cheek and encircling her neck.
“Don’t you dare,” she warned. “I can’t get rid of the ones I’ve got now.”
Dylan smiled as he kissed her again. “What time did you say Josh went to bed?”
Chapter 14
“You want to talk about it?”
Josh swore again, sucking the spot on his fingertip where the hook had pierced the skin. “Talk about what?”
Dylan slid the top off the clear plastic box that held his various selections of flies, and began searching through the small divided compartments. Josh had been distracted and irritable since he’d stopped by the condo to pick him up, and the teen’s moodiness had only gotten worse as the morning sun grew hotter and the fish seemed less and less interested in biting. “Come on, Josh, something’s been eating at you all morning. What’s going on?”
“It’s nothing,” Josh insisted carelessly, but his frown deepened. “Just in a bad mood, I guess.”
Dylan selected the fly he wanted and carefully slid the lid closed on the box. “Have anything to do with Marissa and me?”
“No,” Josh snorted sarcastically, snatching up his pole and standing up. “Why?”
“Just curious.” Dylan shrugged. “Thought if you had some second thoughts we could talk about it.”
Josh shook his head, swiping at the sweat beading up along his forehead. He adjusted the reel on his pole, and made a few practice casting motions. “You?”
“What? Having second thoughts?”
“Yeah.”
Dylan had to smile, thinking they were both pretty good at feeling their way around a subject. “Only in wondering if this fishing hole is as good as I remembered it.” He gestured with his chin to the two lone trout threaded onto their tie lines. “The only one who seems to be getting hungry around here is me.”
Josh released his hook, and started to cast rapidly. “What’s the matter, Sheriff? Afraid of being shown up by a juvenile delinquent again?”
Dylan laughed, but he heard the hard edge to Josh’s humor. He finished making the last loop to secure the fly to the line and came slowly to his feet. “There’s nothing I like better, kid, than a challenge. Stand back and watch a master work.” He moved a short distance down the bank and began casting. However, he continued to watch Josh from the corner of his eye. “So,” he said after a while. “If you’re okay with Marissa and me, what’s got you in such a bad mood?”
“Nothing,” Josh said as he continued casting. But it was obvious his concentration wasn’t there. His normally smooth, fluid motions were stiff and clumsy. “Just… stuff.”
“Stuff?” Dylan asked as he stopped casting and lowered his pole to his side. “Or Skip?”
Josh’s line tangled in the dense limbs of a scrub oak tree on the far side of the stream. “What do you know?”
“I know he’s loaded most of the time,” Dylan said, walking carefully along the bank toward him. “I know he’s got himself involved in something that’s liable to blow up in his face, and that he’s in way over his head.”
“That’s got nothing to do with me,” Josh said angrily, yanking on the line, trying to pull it free.
“Maybe,” Dylan said purposely. “Maybe not.”
Josh yanked harder. The thin test line snapped from the violent jerk and sent tree leaves and the pole flying free. Angry, Josh turned to Dylan, tossing the pole onto the ground near his feet.
“What the hell is that supposed to mean? Is that what all this is about—the fishing trips, the big buddy routine, the little heart-to-hearts? You want to bust Skip?”
Dylan felt the full brunt of Josh’s angry words, and they hit him like a hard right to the jaw. Something in Josh’s eyes had Dylan hesitating, had him scanning his memory again and searching for something, searching for…
For what? Frustrated, Dylan tossed his own pole down, and drew in a deep breath. What was it about the kid that got to him? Was it because he saw so much of himself in the kid, saw so much of his own confusion, his own frustration, his own anger?
“Is that what you really think?” he asked Josh, wondering how the words of this angry teenager could hurt so much.
“What am I supposed to think?” Josh demanded, turning away. “You practically accused me of doing that junk with Skip.”
“I wasn’t accusing you,” Dylan insisted, taking a step closer. “I’m…I’m…” He started to reach out, started to comfort, to console, but his hand stilled in midair and fell back to his side. “I’m worried about you, that’s all.”
Josh whirled back around. “Worried about me? Or interested in impressing my aunt?”
“Josh, come on,” Dylan said quietly, taking another step closer. “You know me better than that.”
Josh stared at him, his chest heaving with emotion. “Do I?”
Dylan stopped in his tracks. There was no anger in Josh’s eyes now—only sadness, and a loneliness that reached out to him on a purely emotional level. He and Josh Wakefield had led very different lives—had faced different hardships and different obstacles. But there was something about this young man, something Dylan identified with, some chord of communion he understood and empathized with.
Dylan knew what it was to be on the outside looking in. He’d grown up poor, on the wrong side of the tracks, wanting more than he could have, and settling for less than he really needed. For him there had never been enough material things in his life—money, clothes, cars. But for Josh, it had been very different. Josh had had all the money he’d wanted, all his material needs taken care of. But what he’d lacked, what he’d needed most, was someone to hang on to.
Dylan finally understood Marissa’s devotion to this boy, why she fought so hard and cared so much. He’d cared, too.
“Yes,” Dylan said quietly. “I think you do. And I think you know you can trust me. Something’s going on with you. You need help.”
Josh squeezed his eyes shut tight, and his shoulders slumped in defeat. “No one can help.”
“That’s not true.” Dylan’s hand came out again, but this time he didn’t back down. He reached for Josh’s shoulder, gripping it tight. “If you don’t want to talk to me, I’ll understand, but Marissa loves you, and you know you can trust her. Talk to her. She would do anything—”
“No!” Josh said adamantly, his eyes flashing open as he cut Dylan off. “I don’t want her involved in this. She’s done enough for me, she doesn’t need anything more to worry about.”
Dylan saw that fierce protectiveness again, and understood it. “Then talk to me.”
“Talk,” Josh snorted, making a helpless gesture with his hands. “Talk’s just talk. It doesn’t solve anything.”
“Sometimes,” Dylan sighed. “But sometimes it does.” He slid his arm around Josh’s shoulder, and walked with him to a fallen tree trunk near the stream’s edge and sat him down. “What’s going on?”
Josh drew in a deep breath, his hands balling into fists. “You already know most of it. Skip’s sort of flipped out.”
“I’ve suspected for a while there’s been some drug use,” Dylan said. “And burglaries.”
Josh’s eyes widened. “You know about the burglaries, too?”
“Small town,” Dylan said with a shrug. “And snitches aren’t called snitches for
nothing. That bull about honor among thieves is just that—bull!”
“Then why haven’t you arrested him?”
“On what? Suspicion and loose talk?” Dylan leaned back, shaking his head. He hesitated a moment, giving Josh a quick glance from the corner of his eye. “Besides, I bring him in, the D.A.’s going to want you and Randy brought in, too.”
Josh’s head jerked up, and he swallowed hard. “Then that really could happen?”
“That was the ruling of the judge. Just a way to make sure one of you doesn’t lead the others astray. Sounds like you’ve had some concerns about that.”
“Some,” Josh conceded with a shrug. “I didn’t know if it was really true, if it could actually happen.”
“It could,” Dylan admitted, feeling a few puzzle pieces slip into place. He understood it was important to be honest, but he also had to acknowledge the fear he saw in Josh’s eyes, and the need in himself to reassure him. “At least until we could get things straightened out with the courts.” He reached over and gave Josh’s arm a reassuring pat. “But it’s nothing you need to worry about right now. We haven’t actually caught Skip doing anything, and it takes more than rumors and hearsay to get a conviction.”
“But the way Skip’s got it figured,” Josh said, taking a resigned breath, “he’ll never be convicted, because he’ll never get caught.”
Dylan shook his head and laughed. “If I had a dime for every time I heard some genius say that, I’d be a rich man today.”
“Skip believes it.”
“I don’t doubt he does. What he doesn’t know is that jails are filled with punks like him who thought the same thing,” Dylan explained, squinting to block out the glare of the sun off the water. He was glad to see that some of the color had returned to Josh’s cheeks, but he could still see the fear. “But I will bet Skip is smart enough to want to press any advantage he can.”
Josh gave him a guarded look. “What do you mean?”
Dylan stretched his arms back, cradling his head against his hands. “Well, I’m just guessing here, but let me run this by you. The way I see it, Skip is feeling pretty confident about now. I mean, let’s say he’s aware that my hauling him in would mean I’d have to haul you in, too. But with you and I being…friends, and your Aunt Marissa and I being…friends.” He paused, and looked back at Josh. “How am I doing?”
“Pretty good,” Josh mumbled. “How did you know?”
“Just a hunch.”
“I tried to tell him,” Josh said, looking up. His eyes were red and watery, and his voice cracked with emotion. “I really did—but you know Skip—thinks he knows everything. And he’s just been out of control lately. Figures he’s got his ace in the hole—you won’t touch him because that would mean bringing me down, too. He thinks he’s got all the answers he needs.”
Dylan sat listening to Josh, watching the tension drain from his muscles and his voice as the words began flowing out. This was what the kid needed—to get it all out, to release some of the tension that had been bottled up. He told Dylan about heated arguments he’d had with Skip, and about Skip’s threats and bragging.
There were things Dylan would have liked to have asked, questions he had—especially after Josh had mentioned Skip’s taunting remarks about Marissa, and his resentment of her as both an authority figure and a woman. But he decided to keep them until later. It had been hard enough to get Josh talking; he didn’t want to do or say anything that might make him clam up again. Besides, he and Marissa had decided not to mention anything to Josh about Skip’s attempt to break into the condo for the time being, and he was glad now that they had. Tensions between the two boys were strained enough, and it only would have made things worse.
“And where does Randy fit in all this?” Dylan asked when Josh had finally run down.
“Randy,” Josh snorted, and shook his head. “Skip’s got him so scared he doesn’t know which end is up. He’ll do anything Skip tells him to.”
“So where does that leave you—odd man out?”
“Me?” Josh scoffed, turning to him. “Don’t worry about me. I’m sure as hell not afraid of Skip.” He paused for a moment, punching his fist down hard on the tree, scratching the sensitive skin along his knuckles. “And I’m not afraid of going back to jail. Skip’s not going to use that against me any more.” He brought his fist up, watching droplets of blood begin to ooze up from the scraped skin. “He’s not going to push me around.”
Dylan sat for a moment, listening to the quiet rush of the stream. “You know, you could have come to me with this. You didn’t need to keep this all bottled up. I would have understood.”
“I guess I didn’t think…” Josh shook his head. “I mean, you’re the sheriff. I’m not really used to talking to you about…you know. It seemed kind of…”
“Awkward. I know,” Dylan said after Josh’s words faded. “But I guess I’d hoped we’d moved beyond that sheriff thing.”
Josh stood up, reaching down to pick up a handful of pebbles, and began tossing them into the stream. “Did you mean what you said back there, about us being friends?”
“Sure,” Dylan said, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. He watched as Josh sent a pebble flying into the air. “I’d like to think so.”
Josh sent another pebble flying, then turned back to Dylan, giving him a cautious look. “You don’t sound so sure about it now.”
Dylan came slowly to his feet. He saw the challenge in Josh’s eyes, and the question. “Friendship is like a tango, kid—it takes two. I can only speak for myself. I consider you a friend. You’ve got to fill in the rest yourself.”
Josh reached down and picked up another handful of the gravelly rocks. Extending his hand, he offered some to Dylan. “You and Auntie Mar just friends?”
“Oh, no,” Dylan said, a smile breaking wide across his face. He held his palm out flat as Josh dropped several of the stones into it. “At least, I hope not.” He reached back, sending a small round pebble sailing high into the air. He waited until it landed in the water with a small splash, then turned back to Josh. “I’m crazy about her.”
Josh chewed his lower lip, considering this. “Sounds serious.”
Dylan tossed another pebble, taking much less time and interest in it this time. “I’m just trying to be honest. I thought you deserved an honest answer.” He waited a moment. “Besides, I’m always honest with my friends.”
Josh tossed the entire handful of rocks into the water, watching as they showered down in a flurry of splatters. “I’m crazy about her, too,” he said, brushing his hands together. “And I’m always honest with my friends, too.”
“Good.” Dylan nodded, accepting what it was Josh was saying to him without any fanfare or bother that would only embarrass them both. Still, his heart lurched in his chest, and he felt a little like a one-ton weight had been lifted from his shoulders.
“Oh, and Sheriff?”
“Yeah?”
“What do you say keep this between you and me—about Skip and everything? You know how Auntie Mar is. I don’t want her to worry.”
“I understand,” Dylan said, regarding him for a moment. He looked into Josh’s dark eyes, feeling that odd, unexplainable connection again. They shared a love for the same woman and a fierce need to protect her. But neither of them was comfortable with emotional displays—at least not with each other, and so he quickly changed the subject. “Your instincts sending you any messages about where the fish might be biting in this stream—at least those we haven’t scared off throwing rocks?”
Josh turned his head and looked at the rushing water next to them. “There are fish in that stream?”
Dylan laughed out loud. “Come on, kid, let’s get a few casts in before we pack up. I promised your aunt I’d have you back by one o’clock, and the last thing either one of us needs is a lecture from the principal.”
Josh laughed also as he fell into line behind Dylan, stepping carefully along the muddy stream bank. He s
topped just long enough to retrieve his fishing pole from the rocks on which he’d tossed it.
“Hey, Dylan,” he said as he adjusted his line and slipped the pole over his shoulder.
Dylan stopped as he headed up the rocks to the spot where he’d tossed down his pole. He was surprised to hear Josh call him by name. “Yeah?”
Josh took an uneasy step forward, then shifted his gaze to one side. “Uh, thanks.”
Dylan slowly bent down and picked up the pole. “No problem, kid, no problem.”
Marissa glanced up at the clock. Five minutes to one and still no sign of them.
She swiveled around in her chair, craning her neck to see what she could of the parking lot from her office, looking for Dylan’s Jeep.
She swung her chair back around, gazing out across her cluttered desk, and sighed heavily. She knew she should be angry, knew she should be annoyed at the irresponsibility and the carelessness of them both, but somehow, she couldn’t quite get herself in the mood. She was simply too happy, and that happiness had a way of permeating all her other emotions. She tried to hold herself in check, tried not to walk around with a perpetual sappy grin on her face all the time—even though that’s exactly what she felt like doing. She’d never thought she would ever feel this way, but she never thought Dylan would be a part of her life again.
She thought of the last several weeks, of stolen moments together, of the telephone calls that stretched out into the wee hours of the morning, and very secret, very quiet, late-night visits. She felt almost like a schoolgirl in the throes of her first crush.
But this was no crush—this was real, and alive, and what she’d waited for her whole life. She loved Dylan. She was wildly, passionately, head over heels in love with him. He was a part of her.
Mallory may be her identical twin, they may share a common link as sisters and as twins, but it was Dylan who was her soul mate, her second self.
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