Don't Say a Word

by Amber Lynn Natusch

  She handed me the can with a nod, then cracked open her beer and took a huge swig.

  “Much better than the bonfire refreshments,” she said, admiring it.

  “Glad they’re up to your high standards.”

  I held my unopened can and looked around. I was uncomfortable being there for more reasons than I could count. Memories clung to every wall in that home—memories of a time that part of me wished had never ended. I’d managed to ignore the bulk of them the other night, but that night it seemed like everywhere I turned, my mind betrayed me with snapshots of me and AJ. The food fight we’d had cleaning up after Thanksgiving dinner. The wrestling match we’d had in the living room that his older brother, Matt, officiated for us. The kiss we’d stolen on the back porch before Garrett found us—the first kiss we’d ever shared.

  My eyes snapped shut, trying to force the images out of my mind. I could hear Tabby talking to me, asking me if I was okay, but it wasn’t she who pulled me from my memory hell. It was the hand of the person I’d once thought caused it on my shoulder that did.

  “Ky, are you all right?” AJ asked, his face only inches from mine.

  I shook my head in a final attempt to clear it.

  “Yeah. Of course. I just have a bit of a headache and this music feels like it’s boring a hole through my brain. No biggie.” I added an ambivalent shrug to emphasize my sarcastic reply.

  “Be right back,” he said before disappearing through the crowd.

  Tabby turned her focus back to me—more specifically, my head—and frowned.

  “I didn’t know you had a headache. We didn’t have to come.…”

  “Ah, but we did, Tabs. Because pretenses—sometimes we have to keep them up.” She scrunched her features in confusion, and I sighed. “AJ and I are really trying to navigate this friend thing. If I hadn’t come after his big win tonight, it would have been a bit of a slap in the face, right?”

  “Yeah … I guess. But do you want to be here? Around AJ?”

  There it was: the million-dollar question.

  “I think so.”

  Her confusion bled to mischief. “He really is a great guy.”

  “I thought you were dropping that schtick, Tabby—”

  “And really good-looking.”

  I let out a sigh. There would be no deterring her in that moment, so instead, I decided to play along.

  Just as I went to reply, the volume of the music decreased to a tolerable level. The kind you could easily hear things over, especially if someone—namely me—was still yelling like a jet was flying over.

  “AJ really is hot.”

  Those four words practically echoed through the kitchen. Everyone in there turned their attention to me and my rosying cheeks. In my best attempt to slough off my mortifying outburst, I simply shrugged and said, “Well, he is.” That’s when I looked at Tabby, whose gaze was fixed on something behind me. Judging by the size of her eyes, I knew it was AJ.

  Mother. Fucker.

  Slowly, like I was in a space-time continuum or vacuum or wormhole thingy, I turned to find him a few feet behind me, doing his best not to beam with victory. Apparently, he, and everyone else in a twelve-foot radius, had heard what I’d said.

  “Is the music better now?” he asked, the corners of his mouth fighting hard against their desire to upturn.

  “Yes … much.”

  Without another word, I cracked open the can in my hand and started chugging down its contents. The bitter taste of warm beer ran down my throat, but it was a welcome sensation. It bought me time. Time to think about how I was going to escape hot AJ, who’d just overheard me declare as much.

  For a moment, I wondered if my night could get any worse.

  Five seconds later, I didn’t have to wonder anymore.

  Just as I was about to address AJ, I heard my name called from the opposite side of the kitchen. Dawson stood in the entryway, eyeing the beer in my hand. His look of disapproval was plain.

  I hazarded a glance at AJ, who did little to hide the disappointment he felt at Dawson’s appearance, then looked over at Dawson. To his credit, he kept the smug satisfaction I knew he felt from his face. He was clearly pleased with himself for tracking me down.

  “Sorry I’m late,” he said, approaching me. “I had trouble finding the place.”

  That made sense, given I hadn’t told him anything about the party or that I was going.

  “No problem. You want a beer? I think I need another beer.…”

  I stepped out from between him and AJ. That tension sandwich was way too much for me to handle. Tabby joined me, grabbing two beers from the fridge. We immediately opened them, clinked them together, then started chugging. When we both came up for air, I could see Tabby’s eyes full of uncertainty.

  “It’ll be fine, Tabs,” I assured her, though I felt none of that assurance myself. “We’re all friends, remember?”

  “Do they know that, though?” she asked, casting them a wary glance. “I mean really? Because the way AJ just went from elated to devastated the second your boyfriend walked in, I’m not sure he does.”

  “That’s his problem to sort through. Not mine.”

  “Not if Alex makes it his first.”

  Panic shot through me, and my eyes drifted over to where the two were standing, doing their best to have a civil but unbelievably awkward conversation.

  “Alex isn’t going to do anything to AJ. Not if he wants to live.”

  I said those words a little louder than I needed to. The beat of pause in Dawson’s movements told me he’d heard me loud and clear.

  “If you say so,” she replied, opening the fridge again. “I think we might need another of these.” She handed me another can of beer with a smile. “You know, most girls would die for the attention of either one of them, Kylene. Try to leave a few for the rest of us, okay?”

  I choked on a laugh. “Listen, right about now, you’re welcome to whichever. I’m starting to think boys are more trouble than they’re worth.”

  “Are we now?” Dawson said softly in my ear, making the hairs on my body stand at attention. “That’s not what you said the other night.…”

  Tabby’s eyes went wide, her eyebrows shooting up to her hairline in surprise. And then she started giggling. The sound was manic and unnerving and growing in volume. Clearly Dawson had surpassed her comfort level, and she all but ran away from us, red-faced and embarrassed.

  “I believe I called you a cocky son of a bitch the other night.”

  He shrugged. “So maybe your love language is a little rough around the edges.”

  I wanted to be mad at him—I really did, but it was a stellar comeback and I was two beers into the night. Two shotgunned beers at that. Instead of telling him off, I laughed. Hard.

  I tried to ignore the distinct edge it held.

  I turned in his arms to face him, wiping the tears from the corners of my eyes before they could make my mascara run. His expression was so unexpected that it almost stopped my hysterics cold. A genuine, bright smile was plastered across his face, lighting up his hazel eyes so much that I noticed the flecks of green in them. Everything around us seemed to fade away for a second: the crowd, the noise—even AJ and Tabby. I felt like I was really seeing Dawson for the first time. Not the jaded detective who had wormed his way into my life, but the new recruit who hadn’t had every ounce of joy drained from him yet. A twinkle of the boy who still remained in the young man.

  “Well,” I said, trying once again to shake unwelcome thoughts from my mind, “I’m a little rough around the edges, so I think that’s only fitting.”

  Mischief emanated from his grin. “I wouldn’t want it any other way. Now, shall we leave Tabby and the sad puppy alone and make our way downstairs?”

  “The sad puppy has a name,” I sighed.

  His smile remained. “I know.”

  With that, he led the way down the hall to the basement door.

  * * *

  The basement was packed with
JHS students. The unfinished portion of the basement was stuffed with drunken teens surrounding a fold-up outdoor table with bright red plastic cups decorating its surface. The occasional cheering and chanting coming from that side of the room let me know that the drinking games were in full swing over there. I made a sharp right to avoid them.

  Unfortunately for me, the finished half of the basement wasn’t much of an improvement. There, kids were draped all over the well-worn couches and other bodies, creating a modern-day version of some Italian fresco painting—thankfully, these people weren’t naked, though. At least not yet.

  I looked up to Dawson and found him grinning like a jackass. He couldn’t have been more elated by my discomfort.

  “Maybe being friends with AJ isn’t that important,” I said under my breath as I continued into the room. But Dawson waylaid me, pulling me into the tiny laundry room. My eyes went wide with surprise but as soon as I saw his business face on, I calmed down.

  “Why aren’t you answering your phone?” he asked, sounding mildly irritated.

  “It didn’t vibrate!” I pulled it out to show him only to find that I’d put it on the alarms-only setting. “I must have accidentally turned it to silent,” I said weakly.

  “It’s fine, Danners. I tried to call to tell you that the lab is booked up. They can’t run the DNA test until tomorrow. I had to cash in some favors to get it in that soon.”

  I couldn’t help but wonder what those favors were.

  “So we’ll know tomorrow?”

  He nodded. “With any luck, this will all be over soon.” I couldn’t tell if he meant the case or our arrangement. Maybe both. “Listen … about last night—”

  “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner,” I interrupted.

  He smiled at my apology.

  “Can I finish?” he asked, his tone irritated but almost playful. “I was about to say that I understand why you did what you did. I’m not mad at you.”

  Pigs around the world took flight.

  “Okay … good. Glad we got that all cleared up.”

  When he said nothing in return, just stood there staring at me curiously, I walked out of the room, my cheeks hot and my mind flustered. I took in everyone else who was occupying the basement. The second I did, I wanted to tuck tail and run. It was all the old crowd—the kids I’d called friends before everything went wrong and I’d left town. The people who’d turned on me, calling me a liar and a slut and a raging bitch when I went to the sheriff about those photos that had been taken. Dawson didn’t know all the details of that part of the story, so I kept my mouth shut and bit my tongue. It was too late to turn and leave anyway.

  I’d already been spotted.

  “Well I’ll be damned,” Heather Samson shouted when she pulled away from whoever it was she was making out with long enough to see me. “Kylene Danners.… Are you lost or something?”

  I looked around, feigning confusion. “Isn’t this the primate exhibit at the zoo?”

  Her haughty expression devolved into an ugly snarl. Her cage always had been easy to rattle. She hadn’t changed a bit.

  “Why don’t you just leave? You don’t belong here.”

  “Why would I leave when I’m learning so much about the mating rituals of wild animals, Heather? It’s fascinating. Really. But, if it makes you feel better, I will leave if you start flinging poop.”

  She shot to her feet with only the slightest of wobbles. Barely noticeable, really—unless you had a pulse and open eyes.

  “Why are you here?” she asked, stepping over someone who had passed out on the floor.

  “AJ asked me to come, so I came. Seems pretty simple really.”

  She rolled her eyes. “I guess your whoring tendencies didn’t get any better while you were gone playing city girl.”

  My eyes shot to the lap she’d just been riding and back to her. “I guess yours didn’t, either.”

  She came to stand before me, eyeing me like she was about to throw down. Heather was a tough girl. She’d had a rough life growing up, and her right cross was a testament to that childhood. The second she stepped to me, everyone in the make-out room stopped, their attention now on us.

  It was the kitchen all over again—only worse.

  I could practically feel Dawson behind me, the tension in his body pressing through the air into mine. He knew he’d have to let whatever was about to go down play out in a realistic manner. He’d break it up for sure, but not before we each got in a couple of hits. Looking like a responsible adult was exactly what he didn’t need.

  “You calling me a whore?”

  “I’m saying that it’s kinda hard for you to call me one while you’re riding some guy on a couch.”

  “At least there’s only one of him, not a hot tub full of guys.”

  Against every ounce of good judgment I had, I let a wicked smile spread wide across my face.

  “The night’s early, Heather. Don’t sell yourself short just yet.”

  Her eyes were wild with rage, but she managed to contain herself a little longer. She had more restraint than I remembered. Her fuse was usually shorter than mine.

  “That’s a mighty high pedestal you’re on for a cheating whore daughter of a murderer, who ruined this town’s chances of making it to the state football championships.”

  “And what a pity that is—Jasperville couldn’t dope its way to victory. It really is a bummer that Garrett and I almost getting killed by that psycho Donovan put such a damper on the season.”

  “It sure is. Would have been better if you’d died. For everyone.” Her words were shards of ice that bit into my skin, making my blood run cold. Not because I was scared of her, but because I knew she wasn’t just speaking for herself. Looking around the basement, it was apparent that others felt the same way. My death would have been a welcome exchange for a state football championship in a town where the sport was practically a deity. That they didn’t care about cheating a little to make that happen.

  Guess I was a Throwaway Girl, too.

  While I tried to calm myself enough to respond, I felt a warm arm around my shoulders pull me in tight against an even warmer body. Dawson to the rescue—again.

  “It wouldn’t have been better for me,” he said. His voice was deep and threatening, and I knew for a fact it was the one he used while interrogating suspects. He was intimidating when he spoke like that, and, judging by the way Heather had gone from triumphant to cowed in the blink of an eye, she thought so, too. “Maybe you should get back to what you were doing.” He nodded toward the couch where the guy she’d just been making out with was about to lock lips with someone else. “Before you’re so five minutes ago.”

  He turned to walk away, dropping his arm from my shoulders. While he pushed forward through the gathered crowd, he reached back to take my hand and guide me through them, interlocking his fingers with mine. I couldn’t help but look down at them, wound together in such an intimate way. In my mind, I knew what he was doing was for show—to look like the good boyfriend watching out for his girl. But deep down, my beer-buzzed inner romantic, who barely ever saw the light of day, delighted in the act. There was something so protective about it that, in that moment, I almost bought the lie. But as we made it to the other side of the basement, littered with red cups and drunken bodies, he let me go, shattering the fantasy my inebriated mind had entertained. Dawson and I were nothing more than an illusion—an inconvenient necessity. He wasn’t there to protect me. He was there to stop a killer and a pimp, and nothing more.

  And if the DNA results came back a match linking Coach to the body, he’d be gone.

  I shook my head and cracked open the beer I’d taken from Tabby upstairs while Dawson stared at me. Under his scrutiny, I leaned against the wall in the corner of the room and drank. I watched while everyone else there ignored my presence—as if I no longer existed. As if I were dead. It made me long for Garrett, who understood what it was like to fall from grace, even if his fall was by choice. It made m
e wonder if anyone in that room would have mourned us at all if Donovan had succeeded. With that unpleasant thought in my mind and an empty can in my hand, I made my way upstairs to find another, then track down AJ and Tabby.

  I needed to be around people who truly cared about me.

  I planned to drink until I forgot that everyone else there didn’t.

  FORTY-FOUR

  Dawson and I eventually found Tabby in the living room, delighting a group of underclassmen with her completely fictional stories about growing up in Canada: how big her igloo was, her pet moose, etc. I shook my head and laughed, leaving him behind while I headed to the kitchen. I was on a mission, and even the Canuck’s tales of the Great White North couldn’t derail me. But damn were they funny.

  Since the stash of beer was getting low, I grabbed two cans, thinking it best to plan ahead, and turned to leave the room. I almost slammed into AJ in the process. A can fell from my hands and rolled across the tile floor. Some asshole football player, whose name I couldn’t remember, picked it up and sneered at me before opening it up and chugging it down.

  “… And the Lord taketh away,” I sighed, trying to ignore the fact that AJ was hovering near me. I turned and smiled at him, giving the other can a little shake. “Good thing I still have this.”

  “I think maybe I should take that one, Ky,” AJ said, reaching for the can.

  “Oh no you don’t,” I replied, pulling away from him. “You are so not the beverage police. That’s Garrett’s job. Not yours.”

  “Well Garrett isn’t here, so…” He reached for the can again and I weaved under his arm to head back down the hall. AJ caught my shoulder and snatched the can from my hand.

  “You can be pissed all you want, but I think you’re done for the night, Ky.”

  “You know what, AJ? I think I am done for the night. Done with drinking. Done with this party. Done with everything.” I yanked my arm free and made my way to the front door. I’d been yelling, which had garnered the attention of most of the first floor. Tabby came darting around the corner to where I stood, her eyes full of concern. “C’mon, Tabs. I think it’s time to go.”