Honesty (Mark of Nexus)

by Butler, Carrie

  Two lines pinched between her brows, but she didn’t comment right away. No doubt that wasn’t the answer she was expecting, especially after Bible-thumping with my brother for almost a year. “That’s an…interesting way to look at it.”

  “Mhm…”

  Okay, this was getting awkward. We were running low on surface conversation, and without fondling under the table, there was no way to pass the time. At least we’d have an excuse for our silence when the food came.

  She must’ve been thinking along similar lines, because she eyed me while she fiddled with the napkin in her lap. “So, what do you like to do during your free time?”

  “Free time?” I blinked. Assault, breaking and entering, theft…

  Really, aside from rounds and keeping tabs on ERA, what had I done lately? I’d shot the shit with Tits a few times, but that wasn’t a hobby. Maybe I could gloss over it with a blanket statement. “Volunteering.”

  “Really?” Her face lit up, and she clasped my arm. “Me too!”

  My mouth wrenched back in a painful smile. “Yay.”

  “I don’t get the chance as much as I’d like to, but I really like spending time at the soup kitchen and the animal shelter. What about you?”

  “I…like to help people on the street.” Sweat broke out along my hairline in bodily malfunction. I didn’t get nervous from lying. Hell, I enjoyed the challenge. Why was I stumbling over this?

  “The homeless?” she asked, filling in the blank I’d left. “Wow. I’ve never taken my outreach into the world like that. The direct approach. I’m really impressed.”

  I tugged at the collar of my shirt and made a face. “It’s nothing.”

  “You’re so modest.” She poked me in my side. “I think you and Wallace are more alike than you think.”

  “We’re not.” Another response that took no deliberation.

  I didn’t mind her getting a slightly skewed vision of my extracurriculars, but I wasn’t sharing a saint pedestal with my brother. If she and I were going to form any kind of connection over the next four weeks, she had to understand one thing—I was not like Wallace.

  “We share some DNA,” I explained, softening the blow of my curt reply. “That’s it.”

  “Okay. What about your grandmother?”

  A waiter came by and took our drink orders. I waited until he was gone to answer. “What about her?”

  “I can tell, whenever he talks about her, that he holds that woman in such high esteem. You’re the same way. I noticed it when you mentioned the thing about denting cans.”

  Well, that was surprisingly perceptive.

  I should’ve given her props, but I had to deflect. “You’re going to liken us by our mutual respect for the woman who raised us? That’s a bit of a stretch.”

  Rachel opened her mouth, and then shut it. Her lips rolled inward, like she’d thought better of whatever had crossed her mind.

  Unfortunately, that didn’t sit well with me. “What?”

  She startled and shook her head. “N-Nothing. I was just thinking.”

  “About what?”

  “Your…parents?”

  My breath hitched in my chest. “What about them?”

  “It’s none of my business. Never mind me.”

  “No, go ahead.”

  “I—”

  Our drinks came back way too fast, and we paused to give our orders. I put my faith in the foodgasmic ravioli, while she opted for a simple plate of spaghetti and meatballs. Boom. Done. Back to the conversation.

  “You…?” I prompted.

  She wrung her hands and lifted her shoulders. “It’s just…I know you two were raised by your grandmother after…after…you know.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Wallace told me that much, but he wasn’t specific in what…um…”

  I worked my jaw. “You wanna know how they died?”

  Her eyes widened. “No! I mean, I’ve wondered, but…you certainly don’t have to tell me.”

  “It’s fine,” I told her with a sigh. “Short version—Grandma was watching us, because our folks were headed to a parent-teacher conference. Our mom worked at a school. Anyway, they were killed by a drunk driver on the way home. We were eight, at the time.”

  Tears trembled in the low light before spilling down her cheeks. “I didn’t…I can’t believe I…I’m so sorry, Cole.”

  I didn’t know how to interpret her reaction. Was she that touched by all sob stories, or was mine special? I shook my head and grabbed a fork to fiddle with. “It was a long time ago.”

  “Did they get the driver?”

  The fork froze between my fingers.

  Newspaper clippings, overheard conversations, court records—they all surged through my mind at once. A careful “yes” barely passed my lips.

  “Good.” She touched my hand, but didn’t pull away. “What happened to them?”

  “He was…”

  Unremorseful. Drunk. Belligerent. A monster. Brought to justice. Killed. A human. A mistake. Heavy. Cold…

  Dead.

  I swallowed and fought a foreign swell of emotion, wanting more than anything to confess what Wallace and I had done that night. To tell her. To scare her. To let her know just what kind of screwed-up bastard she was dealing with.

  To see how she’d react.

  But I couldn’t. Regardless of the tricks my mind played on me, Rachel was still very much an outsider. I’d learned this lesson with Wallace and Rena. You pull one loose thread and the whole thing unravels. There’s no going back from that.

  “He was incarcerated,” I finished, clearing my throat. “But he got out early on parole. I guess he was out for a few weeks, before he, uh…went missing.”

  “Did they ever find him?”

  I shook my head.

  She frowned. “I’m ashamed to admit my first thought was that it served him right. Is that terrible?”

  I could’ve laughed. Instead, I turned my hand and gave hers a squeeze. “No, Rach, I think they call that being human.”

  So, what’s my excuse?

  She tilted her chin, the candlelight accentuating the red shine in her hair. “Well, regardless, I want to thank you for sharing that with me. I know it must hurt to talk about.”

  “It’s fine,” I repeated my usual brush-off, ready to move on. Hurt, I would welcome, but it never came in that form. Talking about my folks brought on a wistful kind of homesickness that lingered for days. Then I’d get all irritable, and people would get their asses beaten. Not a pretty cycle.

  “To come through all that…” She shook her head. “You’ve grown into such a sweet and giving man. I’m sure your parents are watching over you with so much pride, right now.”

  Watching over me? The thought was unsettling in more ways than one. I didn’t want them to see me as I was now. I wanted them to remember the decent kid I was back then. Before I…I…

  My gaze settled on our waiter, carrying a tray across the restaurant, and I nearly lunged over the table. “Look! Food!”

  Rachel jumped and played it off with a laugh. “Hungry, Cole?”

  “Mhm…” And ready to salvage what’s left of this date.

  At least she forgot to ask about her exam.

  ~

  “I must say, I’m impressed.” Rachel grinned up at me on her porch, moonlight washing her porcelain skin. “I don’t think I’ve ever had two perfect dates in a row.”

  My mouth twitched. “Care to try for a three-peat?”

  “Only if I get to pick, next time.”

  “Oh yeah?” I leaned in. “What did you have in mind?”

  She toyed with her bottom lip, rolling it between her teeth. “Maybe we could volunteer togeth—”

  The light flipped on in our faces.

  “Well, well…” Gene appeared in the doorway, smug and amused. “If it isn’t Mr. Porch again. Why don’t you two come inside? Ma and I are just watchin’ a little boob tube.”

  Creeper. The man was a creeper.

&
nbsp; Even if he didn’t have the look and the timing, he was still a grown-ass man who referred to his partner as Ma. Not to mention the fact that no one had called the TV a “boob tube” since the sixties. Just standing two feet away from him skeeved me out.

  “Uh…” I stalled, casting a sideways glance at Rachel.

  “You ever see that show where they compete to lose all the weight?” Gene went on. “I tried to sign Wanda up, but they said they’re fitness coaches—not miracle workers!”

  His bark of self-appreciating laughter pulled the trigger on my dark switch, and I almost strangled him where he stood.

  Rachel rubbed her arms and looked down at her shoes.

  “Now that wasn’t nice,” I told him, careful to keep my voice even.

  “Get a sense of humor, kid.”

  He reached out to clap a hand on my shoulder, and I swatted the gesture on reflex. “Try learning a little respect, first.”

  His laughing expression melted into something eerily serious. “You think you can come to my house and talk to me like that?”

  “Cole…” Rachel shifted the sack of leftovers in her arms and reached for my hand. “It’s fine. Just let it—”

  “What’s that, Rach?” Gene redirected his attention to her doggie bag and raised his voice. “Pretending you don’t eat again? Bringing it back to scarf down later, so he won’t think you’ll whale up like your mama? I hate to tell you, but genetics are genetics.”

  The need to strike bubbled up inside me, heating my veins. “That’s enough.”

  “That’s enough?” He raised his eyebrows. “You know, you’ve got a real mouth on you. Was your old man a deadbeat or somethin’? Apparently, he never taught you to respect your elders.”

  The bastard never saw it coming.

  I crashed into him, sending us both barreling into their living room. Wanda shrieked from the couch, and Rachel gasped behind me, but I couldn’t stop the momentum. His back slammed against the carpet with a heavy thud, and I bashed my fist into his jaw.

  “Don’t ever talk about my family,” I gritted out, watching his eyes flicker between fear and rage. “And don’t ever disrespect these women in front of me again. You hear me?”

  “How dare y—”

  I grabbed him by the throat and slammed him back against the floor again. Something rattled on the coffee table. “I asked if you heard me.”

  He gripped my wrist and strained, his stale breath panting into my face. “D-Don’t stand there like an idiot, Rachel! Get this psychopath off me.”

  I wasn’t as strong as Wallace, but I was sure as hell stronger than a human. There was no way he could get up.

  “Cole, please.” The tears in her voice froze me before she took a tentative step in my direction. “Just…go.”

  Go? I was protecting her from this jerk. Why was I the bad guy?

  “I’m not leaving you with him,” I mumbled. “You don’t even get what’s happening here.”

  “I get it.”

  I finally looked up to find her face had turned as red as her hair.

  Behind her, Wanda looked on with sad, anxious eyes. Had I disappointed her, or was she still nursing the wound Gene’s words had left? Neither of their reactions made sense.

  “I get it,” Rachel repeated, steeling her features. “And you’re just making it worse, so I think it’s time to leave.”

  I pulled my arm back in a numbed stupor. “Do you hear yourself? You’re sticking up for a man who abuses you.”

  “I have never laid a hand on that child!” Gene roared beneath me. “How dare you make those accusations in my house. I ought to press charges for this.”

  I fixed him with a stare so lethal he shut the hell up.

  “I’m fine,” Rachel murmured, dropping her sack onto the floor as she backed away.

  “Rach…” Acid churned in my gut at what was unfolding.

  “Just leave me alone!”

  And with that, she bolted for the stairs.

  CHAPTER 25

  I didn’t stay long, after that.

  In fact, I’d barely made it to the still-open doorway before I took off. My heart was surging in my ears, and my eyes burned like I’d just gotten pepper sprayed. Since when was doing the right thing so offensive? I guess the old saying is right, after all. No good deed goes unpunished.

  So, now what? I’d fucked things up with Rachel. I couldn’t do rounds anymore without thinking about that damn kid in the parking lot. What was I supposed to concentrate on?

  I gunned it all the way to the apartment, barely remembering the drive there. I genuinely hated everything. Everything. Nothing in this world made sense to me. Hell, maybe I wasn’t even supposed to be here.

  For all I knew, my bloodline had descended from aliens humping humans, oh-so-many years ago. Or maybe the government had experimented on my great-great-great-great-grandfather. However it worked out, I obviously didn’t belong here.

  I jerked my key in the lock and twisted. The place was dark, aside from a DVD menu on repeat, but I caught the outline of a massive figure lying motionless in front of the TV.

  “You dead, Tits?”

  “For all intents and purposes,” he muttered, face down in the carpet.

  “Sounds good to me.”

  An old, familiar song looped on the menu, halting me in my tracks. “What the hell are you listening to?”

  Tits popped his head up. “It’s a movie.”

  “But what song is this?”

  “For Once in My Life?” he asked, more than told me. “Frank Sinatra?”

  Sinatra…

  My mind jumbled a dozen memories from childhood—dancing with my mother in the kitchen, my father holding me up to put the star on our Christmas tree. They always played tapes of this stuff. Wallace and I had thought it was stupid.

  I tightened my fist around my keys. Jagged grooves cut into my palm, and I smelled something metallic. Blood mixed with brass. As if the real memories weren’t bad enough, flashes of the nightmare I’d had a week ago joined in. Talking to my parents again, not being able to stop them, Wallace going off with Rena, Grandma leaving me…

  “You okay, man?”

  My lungs panicked for breath, and I shook my head. “Just remembered something.”

  “Oh.” He pushed himself into a sitting position. “Did you want that stuff I dug up on Gene What’s-his-face, first? There’s not much. A domestic thing and a restraining order.”

  I worked my jaw. “I’ll check it out tomorrow. I’m gonna head back to Scion for the night.”

  “Homesick?” he teased.

  “Something like that.” I took quick strides down the hall, grabbed a couple files I’d stolen from ERA, and crammed them into a backpack. When I came back, he furrowed his brows.

  “You sure you’re okay?”

  “I’m peachy,” I lied, shouldering the bag. “Thanks, though. Catch you tomorrow?”

  “Yeah.”

  That was all the notice I felt like leaving.

  Two hours, eleven minutes, and forty-three seconds later, my Jeep idled a ways down from St. Francis cemetery in Scion. I’d intended on heading straight to Grandma’s, but the thing had a mind of its own. I ended up here.

  No one was supposed to visit after dark, but who cared? I wasn’t a looter, and I had family on these grounds. It was my constitutional right to be here.

  Or something like that.

  I put out my cigarette and picked my way through rows of plots, unbothered by the way the moon highlighted each stone. Most people found graveyards scary, but I preferred their isolation. There was something comforting about the silence and anonymity of night. Something that let me lower my guard for a while.

  “Long time no see,” I finally muttered aloud, dusting off the top of my parents’ headstone. “I just, uh…came to say I don’t hate Frank Sinatra anymore.”

  Crickets chirped from the field, further into the cemetery.

  “Don’t sound so surprised,” I went on, to fill in the c
onversation. “I’m a grown-ass man. Things change.”

  A breeze whispered between the stones, and my shoulders slumped. “I know, language. Grandma tells me all the time…”

  Before I’d realized what I was doing, I’d plunked down in the grass. “But you know what? You already have a good son, so there’s no need for me to force it.”

  I imagined my mother frowning, then. She never liked when we suggested one of us was the favorite—though it never stopped us from trying.

  “My…friend thinks you’re watching over us,” I told them, feeling as though I had a captive audience. “And if so, I’m sure you’ve realized Wallace has a good thing going now. Rena’s great. First, she pulled him out of his shell, and then they found a way around his strength. Did you guys realize the Mark of Nexus was real? Because it is. Some guys have all the luck.”

  And other guys have nothing, to balance.

  I rubbed the back of my neck. “Actually, I’d still like to think you haven’t been watchin’ too closely. My pursuits haven’t gone exactly well lately. First the kid in the parking lot, then this whole thing with my friend’s almost step-dad. To be honest, I’d rather be hanging out with you guys.”

  A chuckle worked its way through my body, shaking my shoulders. “But I guess that’s not going to happen anytime soon, huh? No escape for this screw-up. I’d heal too fast. Then I’d be stuck goin’ to the shrink every day instead of once a week…or whenever I show up.”

  I rubbed my forehead and leaned against the side of their headstone, lowering my voice. “You know, you really can’t blame me for being the bad one, though. Wallace didn’t have to get rid of a body when he was fifteen. Do you know how many times I’ve seen it since then? Cramming that guy into an oil container. Sometimes I wake up and still smell it. Even now.”

  The crickets got louder, jarring me from my thoughts.

  “But whatever.” I took a deep breath and righted myself, brushing the dirt from my jeans. “Take solace in the fact that you still have one son who’s on the up-and-up. As long as he and Rena stick around—and as long as Grandma’s still kickin’—I ought to be fine.”

  I patted the cool stone and blew out a breath. “But even I don’t wanna know the things I’ll do, once they leave me.”