by JB Salsbury
I take a moment to peruse the job site and see every available man engrossed in something. I clear my throat and throw back my shoulders. “I’ve decided to have Lucas take me home.”
My brother shakes his head and flicks my shoulder with his dirty hand. “Good idea, smart-ass.” Then walks away.
“Smart-ass? Guess I’ll just keep the fry bread tacos I brought you from—”
“Whoa…” He holds up a hand and whirls back toward me. “Did you say what I think you just said?”
“Oh I said it, and I’ll eat it if you don’t tell me I’m the best big sister in the world and that your universe would cease to spin without me in it.” I tap my foot, waiting.
“You are the best big sister ever.” He wraps me in a hug and groans. “Oh my God, I can smell it on you! Green chili?”
“Uh-huh.”
“I love you, I love you, I love you!” His eyes narrow on my head, then dart to Lucas’s, which is hidden mostly under his hat. “Shy, why are you wet?”
It’s a simple question with an easy answer. We stopped at Dead Man’s Drop, but for some reason it feels scandalous. I clear my throat and play it off casually. “Hot as hell out. Lucas hasn’t been, so we stopped at Dead Man’s.” I play off the weirdness I’m feeling with a grin.
Cody’s eyes grow tighter. Lucas shuffles his feet beside me as we agonize through the few seconds of pregnant silence.
“Cool.” Cody shrugs, all evidence of accusation erased from his face. “Don’t forget to leave me that taco, favorite sister of mine.”
I exhale, relaxing a bit, and turn to Lucas. His full, soft-looking lips pull into a smile. Something I’ve decided I really like seeing on him. He notices me staring and drops his gaze, but I don’t miss the upward turn of his lips intensifying. I celebrate a small victory at being the person who put it there.
Lucas
After tossing the keys to the flatbed over to Cody, I wait for Shyann to get her bag of food out of the truck’s cab and grin as Cody tries to snatch it from her.
I leave them to their argument, a little uneasy about their fighting. They seem to be joking, but I can’t help but feel edgy and tense when they do it. Like at any moment one of them is going to decide it’s not funny and it’ll become a real fight. That, I can’t handle.
Shyann is on my heels as I reach my pickup. She climbs in and I turn over the engine.
“Thanks for the ride home. Sorry you have to do it.”
“It’s fine. It’s on the way.”
Her eyes come to me and I force myself to stay focused on the road because looking into the crystal-blue depths could drown me.
“My dad’s house isn’t on the way to anywhere. It’s miles off the highway in the dirt.”
“Oh, I…uh…I live about five miles past that. By the creek.”
She gasps and quickly covers her mouth. I can’t avoid looking any longer and once my eyes find hers, I wish they didn’t. Her face is pale and she’s glaring right at me.
Panic flares in my chest.
My pulse races.
My hands fist on the steering wheel and I try to regulate my breathing.
“You.”
She’s angry. I can’t take her anger. Not without risking a blackout. My skin gets hot and clammy. My vision blurs.
“This whole time it’s been you.” Her voice is softer now and it helps my fear, but only a little.
What is she talking about? The question freezes in my throat and darkness flickers at the edge of my mind
“He said one of his guys, I thought…” A defeated sigh falls from her lips. “Makes sense I guess.”
My foot lays heavy on the gas as I speed down the highway toward the turnoff that leads to getting her out of the truck. “I’m sorry.” I’m not sure what I did, but it’s clear I’ve done something horribly wrong.
“No.” She shakes her head. “Don’t be—”
“I am. Don’t be mad. I don’t want to upset you.” Where are the words coming from? They’re pouring out on instinct.
“You didn’t.”
“Yes. I did.”
Heat hits my biceps and almost sends me through the roof. Her long slender fingers squeeze. “Lucas. Listen to me. You didn’t do anything wrong. It’s…” She blows out a breath. “Can you take me there?”
“T-t-to where I live?” Nerves explode in my stomach as I remember the last time she got close to my place. “I…uh…”
“It belonged to my mom,” she whispers, and her hand drops from my arm to her lap.
That must’ve been what the tears were about that night she showed up in the creek.
“Your dad said I could live there in exchange for my finishing it up.”
“I know.”
Silence builds between us.
“I didn’t know it was your mom’s.”
She flashes a sad smile. “I know that too.”
By the time we get to Nash’s place, she’s calmer, the hardness in her eyes replaced by a blank stare. I wait in the truck so she can drop the fry bread tacos into the fridge, and she comes out holding a Styrofoam box. She climbs back into the truck and I reverse out of the dirt drive and point the truck toward home.
We don’t speak and once the tiny house comes into view, she visibly tenses.
I pull up under the juniper tree and her fingers quake as she reaches for the door handle. She doesn’t wait and drops out of the cab. I follow her, keeping my distance as she moves slowly around to the front of the house, but doesn’t move any farther.
I feel like an intruder. Unwelcome not only in this house, but also in this private moment. As she’s stuck in some kind of memory, somewhere between past and present, I realize we’re not all that different.
I know what it’s like to mourn.
Know the pain of loss.
My mom is gone too.
But whereas it seems Shyann lost an angel, I was freed from the devil.
“I came here.” She talks to the front door. “The other night, I walked here and—”
“I know, I saw you.” I cringe and drop my chin, unsure why I confessed and wishing I could take it back.
“You…saw me?”
I nod.
There’s a shift, the slight crunch of gravel beneath her boots, and I feel her eyes on me without actually seeing them. “All of me?”
This reminds me of when I was a kid being questioned by my mom, knowing I needed to tell the truth but being terrified of the consequence.
“It was dark, but…” My shoulders touch my ears and I whisper, “Please, don’t be mad.”
“Oh…” She’s quiet, reflective. Not what I was expecting, reminding me that Shyann is different. She’s not like Mom.
I don’t tell her what seeing her naked body did to me or how I responded, but that stirring between my legs is proof the memory is still fresh. “I’m sorry.”
“Stop saying that.” She lets out an exasperated breath. “I should be the one apologizing. I’d been out drinking and…it’s your home now. I had no business being here. It’s my fault.”
“I should’ve looked away.” My face ignites and I’m sure she can—I suck in a breath as her hand grabs mine.
Her eyes are gentle with compassion and understanding. “It’s okay, Lucas.”
My fingers squeeze hers without my permission and it brings a small smile to her sad face.
Pride pounds behind my ribs. I’m glad to erase even a tiny bit of her grief.
She holds up the Styrofoam container. “Can I put this in your fridge before it goes bad?”
I nod, and fear that this means I have to let go of her hand.
Her warm, firm grip is reassuring. Comforting. I don’t want to lose it.
She moves and—“Oh shit!” She leaps behind me and her hands fist my T-shirt at my sides. “What the fuck is that?” Her arm shoots forward, her breasts pressed to my back. I fight the weakening in my knees at the overload of her touch. “There! Under the deck! Oh my God, it’s a mountain lion.
Is it a mountain lion?” She claws at my abdomen, tugging me backward. “Is there a gun in the truck? We need to get—”
“No.” The mention of a weapon snaps me from the fog of her touch and intoxicating floral scent. “It’s a dog.”
“What!” Her muscles relax, but her grip on me tightens. It’s almost enough to make me laugh. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.” I place my hands over hers at my waist. “It’s okay. Far as I can tell, he’s harmless.”
“Oh, okay.” Her forehead presses into my shoulder blade and she exhales hard. “Right. A dog. I’m good.”
She drops her hold and steps back. I immediately miss her heat and the suppleness of her body, but it’s for the best. She bends over and picks up what’s left of the fry bread taco in pieces over the ground.
“May I?” She motions to the dog. “Figure you’re not going to eat it now.”
“You can try. He’s not mine.” I follow her as she walks to the porch and crouches low. “I’ve tried to get him to come out, but he won’t budge.”
“You scared, little guy?” The light, almost singsong tone of her voice is tender and calming.
“I call him Buddy.” My face warms for some reason I can’t name.
“Hey, Buddy.” She holds out the food. “I won’t hurt you.”
She waits and I drop to sit on the step, leaning back on an elbow to watch her try and entice the dog out with her gentle encouragement. I close my eyes for a moment, listening to her voice and enjoying this peek into her personality. Such a contradiction to the cursing, teasing, tenacious woman I’d glimpsed before.
“Atta boy, come on.”
I push up and see the dog has his nose and two front paws poking out from beneath the deck.
“There ya go, boy.” He licks Shyann’s fingers and waits while she grabs more. “Oh, you’re hungry.”
The dog inches out a little more and I take the opportunity to inspect him for injuries. His snout is filthy, chest and neck the same, but I don’t see any wounds or dried blood. His coat is longer than I originally thought, but he doesn’t seem to match any particular breed, probably a mutt.
I lean in, propping my elbows on my knees. “How’d you do—”
The dog retreats back into the shadows.
“Sorry.”
She twists around and grins. “It’s okay. He’s skittish. Probably a man who traumatized him. He seems okay with me.”
“Yeah.” Funny, I find it women who are far more dangerous.
“I’ll just leave this here.” She dumps what’s left of the taco in the dirt. “Mind if I toss this in your trash?”
My heart pounds. Shyann in my house? “Uh…sure.”
Twelve
Shyann
My fingers are covered in dirt, dog slobber, and the remnants of a green chili taco. Probably not the best meal for a dog, but he seemed hungry and I couldn’t let the food go to waste. Chances are, if that dog has been homeless for as long as his dirty fur dictates, he’s probably eaten much worse.
Lucas gets up from the front steps and walks stiffly to the door.
I assumed my dad had rented the river house to one of his buddies, down and out, probably kicked out by his wife for being a drunk asshole. It would take someone as defenseless as Lucas, young and desperate but hardworking, to crack my dad’s protective shell. Looking back, Lucas living here makes perfect sense.
I trail behind him and the wood deck creaks beneath my weight. I try to push away the images of my mom laying each plank by hand with a nail gun. My dad would say, “Don’t fuck those hands up, darlin’,” then kiss her on the head. Little did he know there was something way worse working inside her that would fuck up a lot more than her hands.
“It’s under the sink.” Lucas stands in the open doorway and studies me through narrowed eyes. “Garbage.” He nods to the messy Styrofoam in my hands.
“Right.” I step into the open living room and my breath catches.
The wood floor has been stained, the walls painted in an earthy taupe that accentuates the bright white molding. A woodstove acts as the centerpiece, loaning its rustic look to the modern space. My muscles release a bit of their tension.
“You do all this?”
He shrugs. “It’s no big deal.”
“It’s beautiful. She…” I swallow hard. “My momma would’ve loved it.”
To avoid looking like an emotional wreck, I stick to the task of finding the garbage and move to the small kitchen.
The cabinets are white and the countertops and backsplash are black and white checkered tile, like something out of the 1950s. But that’s not the most remarkable part.
Every single handle pull is different. From cupboards, to drawers, to glass-encased shelving, all of it is a mix of hardware. Wrought iron, gold, silver, and even ceramic, and all in the shape of something found in nature. A gold leaf, a silver sand dollar, bronze stick, some of them are even animals. There’s a fish on one, a bear on the other, and— A flash of turquoise catches my eye.
I squint. “Is that…Oh, Lucas.” At the far end of the kitchen is a small pantry and the door handle is something I’ve seen so many times before it’s practically haunted my dreams. “It’s her pendant.”
My mom had an amazing collection of Navajo jewelry, including large pieces that were weighted by enough silver and turquoise to sink a boat. As much as she loved them, she never wore them. She always said they’d make better decorations for houses than people and swore she’d put them to use here at the river house.
I run my fingertips along the smooth blue stone and silver sculpted in a horseshoe shape. “This is…” Too much. Too perfect. Too…her.
“Your dad gave it to me. Told me just to make sure it ended up somewhere.” Lucas’s voice is close; I must’ve been so lost I didn’t hear him move. “I tried the bedrooms, but then it’d be hidden. It was too small for the front door. Figured the kitchen was the best place for it to be seen.”
I nod and my vision swirls with tears. “She lived in the kitchen. It’s perfect—” I cough to clear the lump in my throat.
Times like this I wish I could cry, that I could release the pent-up emotions that are constantly hovering below the surface. And this…it’s beautiful and being in this space is overwhelming. It’s only a piece of jewelry turned into a doorknob but it reminds me of her life rather than her death. Everything about this place is like a snapshot from happier times. Before our family was touched with sickness and loss, a time when possibilities were endless.
Just like her, this place is beautiful and unfinished. The thought is so brilliantly sad that it brings me crashing to my knees…
Or it should’ve.
But Lucas catches me.
“Shyann?” The warmth of his strong arms wraps around me. His eyes, so dark and full of tenderness as if he can read my mind and feel my pain.
I can’t think of all the reasons why I shouldn’t be helplessly gripping his shirt, all the repercussions for allowing him to see this side of me. The side I’m always shoving back and covering with ironclad strength. The reason I ran and the reason I didn’t want to come home.
I’m weak.
I always have been. What most see as aggression is really a reflex to protect how fucking pathetic I am.
Even now, the scent of spice and pine swirling my senses, my body pressed into the broad masculine chest of a man who’s shown me more compassion in these few minutes than four years with Trevor, something inside me shifts.
Heat blooms in my belly and I splay my hands on his stomach, finally releasing my death grip on his clothes. His abdomen flexes quickly, as if my touch delivers a physical burn. The air around us becomes alive with tension and I want to crush what little space is left between us. My lips tingle with the desire to taste his, to suck that full bottom lip into my mouth and see for myself if it’s as soft as it looks.
I shouldn’t. I know I shouldn’t, but every single reason why pales against the way he’s holding me as he loan
s me his strength.
My mouth goes dry as a new need flames bright and hungry. He stares down at me, his eyebrows pinched together and his lips parted. His pulse pounds beneath my palm, matching the race of my own.
He feels it too.
“Lucas…?” I wet my lips and panic flashes in his eyes. “Kiss me.”
“I…” He blinks, slow, heavy lids passing over the slate-colored orbs. “I can’t…”
My skin tingles with every whisper of his breath. “Please.”
His expression softens and turns sad as if he’s apologizing. Right when I think he’s going to deny me, he lowers his mouth to mine.
In a brush so featherlight I wonder if I imagined it, he kisses me. Just as I’m about to kiss him back, he pulls away. His breathing slows and his muscles grow tense.
Seconds pass in loaded silence.
He refocuses on me and I startle at his change in demeanor. He glares at me from beneath heavy eyelids, and his lips are set in a flat line. His once timid, almost terrified expression is replaced by something sinister. I lurch in his hold, but he only clutches me tighter.
“What are you—” I gasp as his hands grip my ass and I arch away from him.
Full lips lift into a crooked grin and he bares his teeth. “Women. Always out for something, aren’t you?”
I flinch at the frigid tone of his voice. All traces of the tenderness I’d felt before are gone. “I—”
He flexes his hips into mine, silencing me with the stab of his hard-on at my belly. “You like the effect you have, don’t you?” With two long strides he presses me to the wall, his hands fisting my flesh to the point of pain. “Don’t need to hear you say it. I can see it.” He licks his bottom lip and practically snarls. “He won’t give it to you.” He leans down and runs his teeth along my jaw, his breath hot at my ear, and bathes my skin in goose bumps. “But I will.”
“No, I—”
“Shhh…” His arms convulse with what feels like barely held restraint. “Don’t be a cock tease.”
“Stop it!” I press against his chest, my legs tense and ready to run. “You’re scaring me.”
His tall frame locks up and he nips my earlobe hard enough to make me whimper. “Good.” He steps back, glowering, and seems even bigger now.