Split

by JB Salsbury

  His brows drop low as he watches me and suddenly his expression falls in understanding. “I better go.” He stands so abruptly I lose my balance and lean back against my desk to keep from falling flat on my butt.

  “Wait!”

  He shifts on his feet and tugs his hat lower over his eyes. “The mantelpiece is finished. I need to drop it off—”

  “It’s here?”

  He jerks his head toward the door. “In the truck. Wasn’t sure after the vandalizing if Mr. Jenn—er…Nash wanted me to drop it at the house or not.”

  “Can I see it?”

  He hesitates, then nods, and as soon as he does I scurry out the door and to his truck. Lying in the bed is what I assume to be the mantelpiece covered by a blue tarp. He drops the tailgate and hoists his big body up with little effort, then pulls back the protective cover.

  I gasp and lean forward as the intricate design in wood is revealed. “Lucas…” I shake my head, words, again, locked in my throat along with the lump that forms from my pride.

  “It still needs to be stained, but I need to get Nash to sign off on it before I do that.” He sounds unsure, insecure of what I’d venture to call his best carving yet.

  “He’ll sign off, he will. How could he not? It’s…Wow, Lucas, it’s really great.”

  He shrugs one shoulder, humility tempered with a bit of well-deserved satisfaction. “Thanks.”

  The elk, bears, river, every texture and shadow make it look so real I almost expect them to come to life.

  “You’re going to give this to him now?”

  He nods.

  “You have to let me tag along. I can’t miss the look on his face when he sees this for the first time.”

  A tiny grin curls his lip and my body heats, wondering if his lips taste even better when he’s smiling. Slow down, Shy. Don’t scare him away.

  I rip my gaze from his mouth to shake my lust-driven thoughts. “I’ll lock up.”

  “You know where he’s at?” Lucas calls as I head to the door.

  “He’s at the McKinstry place.”

  With that, he covers the carving, hops in the driver’s seat, and fires up the engine. I crawl in his truck and the smell of pine trees and a hint of man after a hard day’s work slam into my senses. I roll down the window in an attempt to keep myself levelheaded, because at this rate I’d jump him in his seat.

  “Here.” He places the pajama bottoms I’d lost by the river into my lap.

  They’re clean, folded, and smell like soap.

  “Thank you, but you didn’t have to do this.”

  He throws the truck into gear. “I wanted to give them to you that next morning, but I didn’t want to upset you.”

  I lean in, hating the distance between us, and press a kiss to his jaw. His body tenses, as if he’s trying to restrain himself. “Thank you.”

  It’s hard to pull away from the delicious scent of his neck, but when he moans and shifts in his seat, I figure I should back off. I’m going to have to take baby steps and pay close attention to his emotional cues if I plan on keeping Gage away.

  We drive out to the McKinstry place just a few miles down the road. Some of the Jennings crew is on-site, putting in new windows and lugging in drywall.

  “Guess they did a number on the place, huh?” I study the house.

  “You haven’t seen it yet?”

  I shake my head.

  “Yeah, they did.”

  Jumping from the truck, we weave through the work site and into the house. Dad’s voice echoes from one of the bedrooms and we follow it back to find him glaring at a wall while Chris, his foreman, paints it.

  “Hey, Dad.” I sidle up next to him, but he doesn’t take his eyes off the wall. Lucas stays in the doorway, leaning with one shoulder against the frame.

  “Shy…”

  “Am I going to have to have the sheriff cuff you to keep you away from the guys who did this once they’re caught?”

  “Understatement of the fucking year.” His glare gets tighter and I follow it to the newly painted wall.

  I squint and suddenly letters…no, words. Two distinct words show through the thin layer of paint. “Does that say…?” I walk to get a closer look.

  “I don’t care how many cans it takes,” he addresses Chris. “Keep adding coats until you can’t see a hint of spray paint.”

  Chris nods and continues to move the roller over the wall.

  As I get closer, the faded letters come into view. D…I…E…I tilt my head and study the next word.

  DIE RETARD

  I gasp, loud, and swing my eyes to Lucas, who seems completely unaware. “Lucas, you and Cody were the ones who did the first walk-through, right?”

  He nods, his lips in a tight line as if he’s reliving the frustration of seeing the house for the first time.

  “You saw this?” I point to the newly covered up hate words.

  He nods again, but his expression registers nothing.

  He has no idea, doesn’t remember. Of course he doesn’t. It was Gage there that night. Dustin called him names, teasing him and egging him on, not Lucas.

  I swallow my nerves and tug on the sleeve of my dad’s shirt. “Dad?”

  “Right.” He shakes his head. “I’m sorry, Shy. You came here for a reason.” He waits expectantly, but Lucas is so close, he doesn’t know the things Dustin said about him. I need to speak to my dad alone.

  “Oh, um…yeah, Lucas has the mantel.” I keep my voice light, despite the hysteria building within me.

  My dad darts his eyes to Chris. “Be back.” Then moves to Lucas. “Let’s see it.”

  Lucas nods. “Sir.” He turns and leaves the room with my dad on his heels.

  I rub my forehead, the heat of anger slicing through my good mood. This is my fault. Who knows how much money this is costing my dad, how much potential pain this could cause Lucas if he found out. I know I didn’t force Dustin’s hand—he’s the fucker who pushed the limits the other night—but I brought Dustin into our lives and because of that I need to straighten it out.

  Dustin, that piece of shit!

  Before I tell my dad anything, I’m going after that fucker myself.

  Twenty-Four

  Shyann

  I was right. My dad’s expression upon seeing the mantel Lucas carved was worth the trip out here. For a moment I saw the man he was before. Carefree, grinning like he used to before Momma got sick, and I fall a little more for Lucas for giving my dad that. There was a lot of back-slapping atta boys between the two of them, and seeing how the approval made Lucas blush and grin made me soften a little more toward my dad.

  I would’ve loved to snapshot the moment, but I had shit to do. While Lucas stayed to help fix up the house, I hitched a ride back to the office with my dad.

  I forced myself to sit through listening to him on the phone with suppliers and the insurance company, letting it heat and fester my anger. Once back at the office, after he assured me there was nothing he needed, I told him I was headed out to run some errands with only the slightest stutter.

  He dismisses me with a flick of his chin and I force myself to walk slowly to the door until I’m out of sight. I run to my truck, fire it up, and peel out to Miller’s Feed Store.

  My fingers drum on the steering wheel and I fly through three stop signs before I finally pull up to the large warehouse-like building. It’s a nice place, great location right on Main Street with a real parking lot, double doors, and a bronze statue of a long-horn steer out front.

  I slam through the front door and beeline directly to the checkout girl, who jumps when she catches a glimpse of my face. “Can I help you?”

  “Dustin.” I spit his name as if it’s a dirty word, my jaw sore from grinding my teeth.

  Her eyes dart around before she picks up a phone and hits a button. “Yes, hi, it’s Brittney. Um…there’s a girl here to see you.” Her eyes come to mine and she flinches, probably reading my thoughts, which sound something like, You better not ignore
me, you motherfucker. “Your name, please?”

  “Shyann Jennings.” I cross my arms over my chest, daring him to refuse me.

  “Yes, okay.” She hangs up the phone. “Go on up.”

  She points to a staircase in the back of the store, but I already know where the offices, are so I’m already halfway there.

  I stomp up the stairs and head straight for his dad’s old office, but before I make it he appears in the doorway.

  “Shyann, what brings you— Whoa!” He holds up his hands as I shove past him into the office. “What crawled up your ass?”

  I whirl around to face him. “You, Dustin.”

  “I’d like to crawl up more than your ass, Shy.” He chuckles, then shuts the door. “But something tells me you’re not here to service me under my desk.”

  My lip curls and I feel dirty just standing in his presence. He moves to his desk in a pair of Wranglers and a brown button-up shirt, the picture of cowboy integrity. He may be able to fool the people in this town, but not me. The blinders are off. He drops into his chair and kicks his cowboy boots up onto the desk, flashing a salacious grin.

  “I know it was you.” My hands shake with fury at what he’s done, what he said about Lucas, what he did to my dad.

  “No clue what you’re talking about, babe—”

  “Don’t fucking call me that!” I lunge toward him, wishing I were more like Gage, wishing I could intimidate him, wrap my hands around his throat and cut off his oxygen until he questioned his own mortality, but I freeze. “You fucked with the wrong family.”

  His eyes narrow. “Is that right?”

  “I know you’re the one who vandalized the McKinstry place. I saw your little calling card, Dustin. You make me sick.”

  He only stares at me with cold expressionless eyes. Shady fucking bastard.

  “Confess, or I’ll tell the cops myself.”

  He shrugs. “Got nothing to confess. My hands are clean.”

  “Liar! I saw what you wrote, the same thing you called Lucas in the bar before he put you on your ass.”

  His face reddens and his glare tightens.

  “You called him a retard.” I speak the words under my breath, the word so vile, just saying it makes me want to vomit.

  “That’s your evidence?” He lifts his brows. “Shit, Shy, everyone in town calls him that.”

  I jerk back and my mouth falls open.

  He chuckles, one blond brow lifting to give his all-American-boy look a dangerous edge. “This comes as a surprise to you?”

  Lucas is different, antisocial, painfully shy, and this town is known for prejudging newcomers.

  “The guy practically puffs into existence and no one knows shit about him; he doesn’t share. Hell, he barely speaks. Then he picks a fight with me outta nowhere. Come on, Shy. He’s a freak!”

  “He is not.” The words come out on a whisper because everything Dustin has observed about Lucas is true, except he didn’t attack Dustin for no reason. “And you started that fight. He was defending me.”

  “You got a thing for this loser, don’t you?”

  “Don’t call him that—”

  “You fuckin’ him now, Shy?”

  “Shut up—”

  “The reason you won’t get back together with me is because you’re suckin’ retard dick?”

  His words sock me in the gut and I step back to gain distance from his venomous mouth.

  “That’s what I thought.” Dustin stands and braces his knuckles on his desk. His teasing smile falls and his jaw ticks. “Now, unless you got some evidence to prove it was me or have a cop with you to arrest me, get the fuck out of my store.”

  “I can’t believe I ever cared about you.” I turn on a heel, racing down the steps and into my truck. My skin is tacky with the sweat of adrenaline and my heart races.

  Everyone in town calls him that.

  Dustin’s words run through my head on repeat. Is it possible I’m not the only one in town that knows about Lucas…knows about Gage? More questions run through my head than I have answers.

  But I know someone who might.

  * * *

  I push through the front door of the diner and the little bell rings over my head. I seek out Dorothy. She’s standing behind the counter wiping her hands on her apron and smiling at me.

  “Hey, Shy. You here for a late lunch?”

  I take the stool at the far end of the counter and she follows me down, placing a menu in front of me.

  “No, I—”

  “You okay, darlin’?” She presses the back of her hand to my forehead. “You don’t look so good.”

  I force a grin and nod. “I’m okay, just…” Sick and pissed at this stupid fucking town and the stupid small-minded assholes who live in it. “I actually am a little hungry, thanks.”

  I order a club sandwich and wait for Dorothy to put the order in before I wave her back to me.

  “Yeah, honey?” She smiles.

  “Hey, Dorothy, can I ask you a question?”

  “’Course.”

  “You know, Lucas, right? Newer guy in town, my age. He came in one morning to fill his coffee? Dark hair, always wears a hat—”

  “Yeah, I know him.”

  “What do you know about him?”

  She props her full hip on the counter and sighs. “Sweet kid. Special, ya know?”

  The urge to roar is almost unbearable. I know exactly what “special” means, and it’s not the same kind of “special” that Lucas is. Rather than spit fire, I simply nod.

  “He showed up in town not too long ago. He was dirty, too thin, unkempt. Believe he was living in his truck, or that’s what they say.”

  They. The townspeople. Suddenly I hated Payson for Lucas.

  “People tried to help him, offer him food, take him to church and whatnot, but he refused.” She shrugs. “Wasn’t until he started working for your dad that people noticed he was being taken care of and left him alone.”

  “Do you, or does anyone know what’s wrong with him?”

  “He’s a couple pancakes short a stack, but other than that I think he’s harmless.”

  I take a long, relieved breath. They don’t know.

  “Can you, I don’t know, think of anyone who might not like him? Have a reason to want to hurt him?”

  Her face twists in disgust. “Lord, no. He’s a good kid.”

  “Thing is, one of the houses Dad’s working on got vandalized and whoever did it spray-painted some nasty stuff on the walls.”

  “Heard ’bout that.”

  Of course she did.

  She scratches her head with her pencil, then sticks it back into its resting place behind her ear. “You know how people are, Shy. They hate different. That boy is different. There’s something…” She motions to her eyes. “In here, makes me think he’s got a story to tell. Not that he ever would. Boy don’t say a thing but please and thank you, sir and ma’am.”

  He does to me.

  “Right.” Funny, sitting here thinking about it, I realize how very little I know about Lucas. As much time as we’ve spent together, I don’t even know how old he is.

  Maybe Dustin was right; anyone in town could’ve vandalized the McKinstry place. I still can’t shake the feeling that my ex-boyfriend is far from innocent.

  Dorothy slides a plate piled high with a triple-decker club sandwich and potato salad in front of me.

  I peer up at her. “Can I get this to go? I just remembered I have somewhere I need to be.”

  “Sure thing, Shy.” She smiles sweetly and slides the entire thing into a box.

  I throw down a ten-dollar bill and run out the door. “Thanks, Dorothy!”

  She waves and I jog to my truck.

  I need more information, and to think it’s been right under my nose this whole time.

  * * *

  “You’re back.”

  “Yeah, I thought you could use some lunch.” I thrust the to-go bag at my dad.

  “You’re an angel.”
He rips into the food. “I’m starving.”

  I point over my shoulder toward my desk. “There’s some paperwork I need to sort, so I’ll go ahead and do that.” Not a lie.

  “It’s Sunday. You can do it tomorrow,” he says through a cheekful of potato salad.

  “Ha! Because my insane social life is calling.”

  He grunts and shoves a quarter of the sandwich in his mouth, his eyes on insurance claim paperwork. Between his food and his work, I hope he doesn’t notice me pulling employee files.

  My organizing over the last few weeks makes it easy to locate the folder I need. I cross to my desk with a stack of applications pressed to my chest. I flip through pages as quietly as possible, feeling half PI and half stalker slimeball.

  There’s a tiny voice in my head that says I could always just ask Lucas, but something tells me he won’t be as forthcoming as his employee file will be. And there’s always the risk that my questions will provoke Gage.

  The files are in no alphabetical order, and I continue to move through them until finally my eyes land on the name.

  Scribbled in blue ink.

  Lucas Menzano

  “His last name is Menzano,” I whisper, as the heavy surname falls from my lips.

  “What’s that?”

  I jump at the deep rumble of my dad’s voice and drop the file of employee paperwork to the floor. “Shit! You scared me to death.”

  My heart pounds and I scurry to pick up all the loose pages.

  His boots come into view. “Whattdya need with employee files?”

  I peek up at him scowling down at me with a half sandwich in his hand. “Oh…um, just putting them in a-alphabetical order, Dad. They were a mess.” I laugh nervously and right myself, dropping the gathered pages on my desk.

  “Huh…good idea.” He grabs his keys. “I’m headed out. Probably won’t be back in, so I’ll see ya at home. Thanks again for lunch.” He shoves his mouth full of food, snags his keys, and he’s gone.

  I breathe a little easier now that he’s gone and I can continue my skeevy snooping in private. I hate hiding things from my dad, but the truth would prompt too many questions that I don’t have the answers for.