“Yes, Ronan.” She came down lower, pressing her face into his neck and rocking her hips in a frenzied motion.
“Don’t hold back,” he said. “I want to feel you shake.”
She grabbed his face in her hands and pressed her mouth down to his, meeting him thrust for thrust. Then he plunged deep, his body pulsing as he came, and she tipped over the edge a few seconds after, his name falling from her lips.
Chapter Seventeen
There are chili peppers so hot they can kill you.
Audrey had crept back home at the crack of dawn the previous night, parking on the street instead of risking the sound of Big Red’s engine waking anybody up. But what she’d shared with Ronan was well worth a little subterfuge. And thankfully the house had been completely quiet. Not even Georgie, who was a light sleeper, had stirred when Audrey slipped into their bedroom.
Morning had come too soon, but Audrey didn’t feel as though she was surviving on barely four hours of sleep. Instead she felt as though a fluffy cloud was helping her float through her day, and a dreamy smile had been stuck permanently on her lips. Now it was afternoon, and Audrey had gone to pick up Deanna from school.
“I’m so glad I didn’t have to get a ride home,” Deanna chirped as she slid into the passenger seat. “I was worried Big Red wasn’t going to make it back.”
“She was grumbly this morning.” Audrey patted the steering wheel affectionately, but when she started the engine, a deep, shuddering rattle made her cringe. “I’m worried she’s on her last legs. Joe said we can only keep patching her for so long.”
Deanna giggled. “Sounds like she needs to stop smoking cigarettes.”
“She does.”
“So…does this mean I get another fact, since you’re driving us home?”
Audrey glanced at her sister. “Seriously? I’m not a machine.”
“Pleeeeeeeease.”
Audrey laughed. Deanna had been extra clingy since Audrey’s fight with her dad, and even this morning she’d hovered around like a bad smell. To the point that Audrey had asked her little sister to give her a moment of peace while she’d been washing her face, because her head was too full to deal with memories of Ronan and a barrage of questions about nothing in particular.
“Okay, how about this… There are chili peppers so hot they can kill you.”
“Really?” Deanna’s eyes widened.
“I was reading an article about one called the Dragon’s Breath,” Audrey said. “And it’s supposed to be seven times hotter than a habanero and fifty percent hotter than the average Carolina Reaper.”
“But how does it kill you?” Deanna asked.
“Well, the capsaicin concentration can trigger anaphylactic shock, which can cause a person’s airways to close. Even if it doesn’t kill you, something that hot will cause blisters in your mouth, and your body would likely immediately reject the pepper.”
“You mean you’d vomit it up? Gross.” Deanna pulled an icky face. “Spicy vomit would not be good.”
“No,” Audrey said with a chuckle. “It definitely wouldn’t.”
Deanna chatted happily the entire way home. She’d stayed late at school rehearsing her audition for the school play, so Audrey had been able to pick her up after work. It was a little after six, and the sky was still light and golden. The neat little rows of houses rolled by as they drove. Eventually, the scenery started to change, and Audrey felt the pit form in the depths of her stomach.
Coming home was often giving her this feeling lately. But she had a fun evening ahead—it was taco night, her personal favorite. Afterward, she’d clean up from dinner, put the washing on, tidy the house, and take the trash out, and then she would settle in and do some reading for Ronan. He’d emailed her a copy of the first chapter of his book, and she couldn’t wait to dive in. It would be the first time she’d actively used her brain today.
She pulled Big Red into the driveway and killed the engine. But before she’d even had the chance to get out of the car, Georgie flew out of the house, letting the front door bang behind her. The look on her face made the blood in Audrey’s veins run cold.
She pushed open the door and got out. “What’s wrong?”
Georgie’s face was streaked with tears, her eyes red-rimmed and her lashes stuck together in little spikes. For a young woman who was usually meticulous about her hair, it was currently in disarray, falling out of her ponytail in chunks. She tried to speak but hiccupped instead.
“Georgie, calm down.” Audrey grabbed her younger sister by the shoulders and rubbed her hands up and down her arms. “What’s going on?”
“Oliver.” She hiccupped again. “He had a fight…with dad…about his graphic design stuff…Dad said he needed to…stop fucking around…and get a real job…”
That was rich, coming from the man who was chronically unemployed. Audrey shook her head; she wasn’t going to focus on the fact that Georgie was cursing when she knew she shouldn’t—a hard thing to uphold when any time one needed to quote their father it involved dropping the F-bomb.
“Slow down,” Audrey said. Then she shot a look at Deanna, who was standing beside them, eyes big and round and brimming with worry. “You, get inside and start your homework.”
Deanna shook her head. “But—”
“Now.” Audrey stared her down until Deanna’s shoulders sagged and she went into the house, her backpack slung heavily over one shoulder. “Okay, what happened after the fight?”
“Oliver left, and Dad said ‘good riddance’ and called him a selfish little…” She bit down on her lip. “It was bad. I wanted to follow Oliver, but then Dad started storming around the house, and then he left, too. I figured I should stay here in case Deanna came home, because I couldn’t remember who was picking her up and I didn’t want her to come home to an empty house.”
Audrey pulled Georgie into a hug. “You’re a good big sister. Do you have any idea where Oliver went?”
“No. I tried to call him, but…then I heard his phone buzzing in his bedroom. He didn’t take his wallet, either.” She shook her head, another tear spilling out of her eye. “I know they fight sometimes, but this was different. Oliver said he was going to leave because he hates living here and he hates our family and he wants to be alone.”
“You know he doesn’t mean that, right? He was just upset.”
“I hate Dad sometimes.” Hurt glimmered in Georgie’s eyes. “He’s always angry and mean, and…I think you should be able to take a college class if you want.”
Audrey let out a long sigh and released her sister, scrubbing a hand over her face. “I don’t want to get into that now. Let’s focus on Oliver, okay?”
“I looked out the window after he left, and…” Georgie dropped her eyes to the ground as though she really didn’t want to say what was coming next.
“Tell me.”
“I think he stole Mrs. March’s car.”
“What?” Audrey let out a groan. “Why didn’t you lead with that, G?”
“I don’t want to get him in trouble, and…” She blinked tearfully. “I saw him sitting in the front seat, and there were wires.”
“He hot-wired her car? How does he even know how to do that?” Audrey felt herself spiraling, panic seizing hold of her lungs and airways. But she couldn’t fall in a heap now. She had to find Oliver and bring him back with the car before it got out of hand. An arrest on his record could ruin everything. “You know what—I don’t care. Take twenty dollars out of the envelope under my mattress and order pizza for you and your sister. Make sure she does her homework. I’ll find Oliver.”
Audrey got back into her car and pulled out of the driveway, having no idea where the hell she was going to find her brother. But Mrs. March would have to come outside her house eventually. The fact that nobody had called the police was a lucky break…unless they had? What if Oliver was alread
y down at the local station?
A sick feeling swished in her stomach. “Think, dammit.”
One thing in her favor was that Mrs. March’s car was the approximate color of Big Bird. They always joked about it: Big Red and Big Yellow. It stood out. Audrey drove past a few of Oliver’s friends’ houses, but there was no sign of the car. She circled Kissing Creek, going past the high school and the rec center and the library and the main strip. Nothing.
She called her aunt, but he wasn’t with her, either. Would he have left town? Audrey wanted to scream at the top of her lungs until her voice box gave out. When she saw her father again, she was going to rain fire and brimstone down on him. She could take the brunt of her father’s assholery…but the others were sensitive. Oliver possibly the most sensitive. He’d been increasingly withdrawn lately, curling in on himself like an armadillo.
“You should have done more about this,” she scolded herself as she drove, her heart thumping at twice its normal speed. “You should have kept a closer eye on him, and instead you’re too busy screwing around with Ronan and classes and shit that doesn’t matter. What Oliver needs is a mother figure.”
Then it hit her like a bolt of lightning. She knew exactly where he was…the one place Audrey avoided at all costs.
When she pulled Big Red into the parking lot of the Kissing Creek cemetery, Audrey felt a wave of something black and oppressive slide over her. There was only one other car in the parking lot—an old, bright-yellow sedan.
Audrey sat for a moment, the past playing out as clear as if it were laid out in front of her. She could feel the chubby grip of Georgie and Oliver’s hands, one on either side of her, and hear baby Deanna wail as though she somehow knew what had been lost. She remembered the scratchy feel of the black polyester dress her aunt had made her wear, even though Audrey hated black. But everyone wore black. It was like the world had been drained of color that day. And every day since.
Drawing in a long breath, Audrey filled her lungs until her chest started to ache. There was no getting around this. She had to put her own feelings aside and help her brother.
Even though she hadn’t been back to the cemetery since the day of the funeral, Audrey knew the way without hesitation. Left at the little fountain, right at the rosebushes. She saw a lanky figure sitting cross-legged on the ground and heard the sound of her brother’s deep voice on the breeze. He was chatting away, almost as if a fight hadn’t happened. He seemed…happy.
Audrey approached quietly, her footsteps silenced by the spongy grass, and it wasn’t until her shadow cut into Oliver’s vision that he looked up. Their mother’s grave was well-tended. Fresh flowers sat in a squat green plastic vase, and the twigs and other natural debris had been brushed to the side.
Mary Patricia Miller, in loving memory. Always smiling.
Her mother had always told her that a smile was her best defense against life’s obstacles, and it was something she practiced herself.
“What are you doing?” Audrey asked her brother, shaking her head. She held back the desire to shake him and yell, because that wouldn’t get her anywhere, even if it might be a good release for her own bubbling emotions. “You stole a car?”
Oliver had the good sense to look ashamed. “I had to get out of there.”
“Committing a crime will certainly do that.”
“Mrs. March said I could borrow the car any time.” Oliver clearly knew the response was BS, because there wasn’t an ounce of confidence in his tone.
“Borrow, buddy. Not steal. Big difference.” Audrey crouched down beside him, keeping her eyes clear of her mother’s grave. She couldn’t bear to look at it right now—not with the sorry state her family was in. Their mother would be devastated. “We need to get you home and return the car.”
“I’m not going back there.” He crossed his arms over his chest.
“Oh, you’re going to sleep overnight in a cemetery, huh? Great decision. Literally no horror movies have ever started like that.” Audrey rolled her eyes. “I’ll see you later, zombie boy.”
Oliver snorted. “Don’t make me laugh.”
“Someone has to.” She wrapped her arms around him and rested her cheek against his head, ignoring how gross it felt from all the hair product he used. Ugh, why did teenage boys do that? “I know things have been tough at home.”
“Don’t you want to leave, too? You get the worst of it more than any of us.”
She did. She’d fortified her armor so she could absorb the verbal blows her father dealt them, shielding her siblings as best she could. That was her lot in life. “I’m not leaving you kids, ever.”
“Couldn’t we all go somewhere else? Together?” Oliver sighed. “I wish Mom was still here.”
“Well, she’s not. It’s just us.”
“Are you angry at her for dying? Is that why you never come here?”
Audrey swallowed against the lump in her throat. It felt like he was reaching right into her chest and ripping her heart out with those questions. “There’s no point being angry. Nobody wants to die.”
“That’s true.”
“Please come home. I know it’s been tough, but you’re so close to finishing school, and the second you’ve graduated, we’ll get you out of here. I promise.”
Oliver looked at her warily. “How are we going to do that if I don’t want to go to college? You might want that, but I don’t. So how else am I going to get out? I…I can’t be stuck here forever.”
They’d been dancing around this decision for a year—with Audrey telling him a course in graphics would help his chances of finding a job and Oliver pushing back. Even if he didn’t, Oliver’s grades might not be enough to get him the scholarship he’d need to get an education somewhere with room and board included. Because his fears were right. Without college, how else would she protect him?
“I don’t know,” she said softly. “I wish I had all the answers. But I promise we’ll talk about it and figure something out. Maybe we can look at moving you in with Aunt Harriet? She keeps offering, and while I hate to separate you from the rest of us, if that’s what it takes to stop you from running away…”
Oliver looked up at her, eyes full of hope. “Really?”
“We can talk about it,” she repeated. “I can’t promise anything, but I’m hearing you loud and clear, and we’ll find a solution.”
“Do you want to say goodbye to Mom before we go?”
Audrey still couldn’t even force herself to look at the grave. She was hanging on by a thread now, her positive facade so cracked and crumbling she was worried it might slip off for good. “We should get you home as quickly as possible, and then you’re going to give Mrs. March an apology.”
Oliver sighed and nodded. “Will you come with me?”
“Of course.”
She helped her brother to his feet and tried to sling an arm around his shoulders, but he was way too tall, so instead, Oliver put his arm around Audrey. He was barely a boy anymore. A young man on the verge of adulthood who wouldn’t be forced to stay at home much longer. She needed to help him figure out what was next and make sure he didn’t end up like their dad.
“Do you come here a lot?” she asked as they reached the parking lot, her eyes still turned away from her mother’s grave.
“Every week,” he said with a nod. “I don’t actually study at the library on Wednesdays.”
“You come here?” She looked up at her brother, fighting the tears that wanted to prick the backs of her eyes.
“Well, Mom always liked keeping the house tidy, and I figure she’d feel bad if her grave was messy. I change the flowers and brush all the leaves away.” He shrugged like it was the simplest thing in the world. “I miss her a lot.”
“I miss her, too, bud.” Audrey squeezed her brother. “I miss her, too.”
…
Ronan dropped onto
the small couch in his temporary apartment and raked a hand through his hair. Rich, golden sunlight poured through the windows, tinting everything orange as the sun set outside. It made the small place look more alive—glossing over the fact that the appliances were old and that Ronan hadn’t given any care to decorating the walls or surfaces.
Part of what had stopped him from filling the space with anything personal was his indecision about the future. He’d made no commitment to stay in Kissing Creek beyond his contract…so what was the point of decorating? But for some reason, having Audrey in his space last night had made him suddenly aware of how he was living like a nomad. His place in the UK had looked much the same—bare walls and sterile-looking furniture and a sense that he was going to flee at any moment.
It was as if he couldn’t bear the thought of setting down roots. Or making commitments.
Or opening himself up to anything more than now.
Luckily, work kept him busy enough that he didn’t have to think about it too much. Today, he’d taught two classes, had three hours of “open office” with students, and spent the afternoon going over his mentor’s feedback on another chapter for his book…which basically meant starting that section from scratch. After that, he’d attempted to have a quiet few moments at Kisspresso, only to have some PhD students want to ask him questions.
By the time he’d gotten home, his brain felt like mashed potatoes. Maybe he could stare into space for long enough that he’d reach a respectable amount of time before he could slide into bed.
At that moment, his phone buzzed. His mother was calling him—again. She’d started trying yesterday around noon, and the calls would come through every few hours. But she never left another voicemail. Never texted, either. He’d called his grandmother to make sure she was okay and then followed up with Keira. Both of them were fine. No family emergencies.
After his mother ignored him most of his life, what could possibly be so urgent now?
It was clear she wasn’t going to stop calling until he picked up. Frustrated, Ronan thought very seriously about dropping his phone into the toilet bowl and flushing it. But sticking his head in the sand wasn’t going to accomplish anything.
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