Chapter 12
Alyssa
Brody’s not here when I pull in to The Haven at a little past six AM. Not that I expect him at this hour, or even at all. I never set any special time with Brody to start… just told him to come when he could. He works most evenings at Last Call so he told me he’d be able to come most days, and that was good enough for me. I would take whatever help I could get. Since it was without pay, I was not picky when people came to work.
If I were a betting woman though, I’m thinking The Haven may have seen the last of Brody Markham. After our second kiss ended in ruin yesterday at Hunter’s party, I’m betting the guy is probably scared off for good. He wants me… I know he does. I could feel it in his kiss, and I most certainly felt it pressed up against my stomach. But the guy is so mired in the darkness of his past, he refuses to push through and see the potential standing in front of him. I’d love to say I’ll continue to work on him, but I’m thinking Brody’s refusal to give his life a real chance may be insurmountable. I don’t know that I have the fortitude to break through his walls.
After unlocking all the buildings, I get started right away on feeding the dogs because they’re the noisiest. Their loud barks and yips make it sound like they’re starving to death. I’m able to get both the dogs and cats fed in just under an hour. I make sure I open all the dog runs to the outside so they can go out and play if they want, and make my way over to the barn to feed Midget.
As I step outside of the kennel, I run almost head on into a woman as she’s walking in.
We both give a little scream of fright as we jump apart and then a chorus of nervous laughter ensues.
“I’m so sorry,” I tell her while still chuckling. “I almost ran you over.”
The woman gives a polite laugh and brings her hand up to play with the gold necklace around her neck. “Not a problem. I just stopped by to see about volunteering with your… um… dog shelter here.”
I eye the woman with suspicion, although you’d never know it by the warm and courteous smile on my face. She’s very pretty with shoulder-length, blonde hair that is sleek and shiny, and deep, chocolate-brown eyes. She comes from money… doesn’t take a fool to notice that, but since I come from money too, I can smell it a mile away.
She’s wearing Chanel from head to toe, her makeup is flawless, and the platinum and diamond tennis bracelet easily cost five figures. There’s no way this woman wants to help me clean up dog shit, and since that means she lied to me as to why she’s here, I go on full-out suspicious alert.
“What in the f*ck are you doing here?” I hear Brody yell before I even see him.
Turning to my left, he comes stalking down the backside of the kennel, apparently having parked his car in front as he had yesterday. His eyes are glued to the blonde woman, and they are blazing with fury. I can feel tension vibrating off her, and I’m going to go out on a limb and guess this must be the famous Stacy Hutchens.
“Brody, honey… I heard you were working here. Please, give me a moment to talk to you,” she implores, reaching her hands out. I notice her eyes are filled with tears, and she looks truly pained. I don’t know whether to feel sorry for her or not.
Brody never even breaks stride or slows his pace. He stalks right up to her, grabbing her upper arm while snarling, “Don’t ever f*cking call me honey, and you lost your right to talk to me five years ago.”
Then he starts dragging her back from the way he had come, presumably to pack her up in her car to leave. She has other ideas though, and her dedication to her task surprises me. She digs in her Herve Leger pumps and the four-inch heels stick nicely in the grass, stopping Brody’s progress.
“Wait… please, just five minutes,” she beseeches him, tears sliding down her face.
Dropping his hand from her arm, Brody looks at me in frustration. He’s undecided what to do, and I hope he’s not looking to me for the answer. I have no clue how to advise him. I’m just the girl that wants to kiss him again.
“I’m going to go and do some work in the office. Give you two some privacy,” I say, spinning on my heel before I can see or hear another moment of this fiasco.
My heart is beating hard as I walk back through the dog kennels and into my office at the front of the building. I think I’m actually terrified for Brody… having to confront his past when it’s something he doesn’t want to do. I don’t know what the deal is between them, but whatever it is, Brody was incredibly hurt… that much is clear. Taking a seat at my desk, I gaze out the window and see Brody’s car and yeah… a silver Mercedes in one of the visitor spots. I’m betting Brody knew exactly who that car belonged to when he pulled in.
I open up my laptop, intent on getting some invoices caught up, when the sounds of Brody and Stacy arguing filter through my open window. I get up from my desk, intent on closing it, so I give them the privacy that they don’t even understand they need.
“Please, Brody,” Stacy sobs loudly as Brody practically drags her to her car. “I’m sorry. So sorry. You have to see that, surely.”
“Sorry?” he roars, sounding like an animal in pain, and it lances straight through my heart. “You’re sorry?”
My gaze is helplessly pinned on Brody as he pushes her toward her car so hard that she stumbles, but then catches herself on the driver’s door. I want to look away, but I can’t. I want to chastise Brody for being so rough with a woman, but something about the torment in his voice makes me believe he’s not exactly out of line.
“Yes,” she whines. “I’m sorry. But it’s done, and I need—”
Brody’s face goes from angry to rageful and he leaps at her, wrapping his hand around her throat. Stacy’s eyes go round in fear, but he doesn’t appear to be choking her… just pinning her to the car with his hold. My breath is caught in my lungs, and I don’t know whether to yell out to get him to stop before he does something that can’t be taken back.
But before I can make a decision on what to do, Brody’s voice stops me cold as he sticks his face right up to hers and hisses in a voice filled with venom. “I f*cking went down for a crime I didn’t commit, and it’s your f*cking fault, and all you can say is ‘sorry’? You’re lucky I don’t strangle the breath right out of you, right now, and rid the world of your evil.”
“I know,” Stacy whines. “I know, and I’m sorry.”
Shock slams into me so hard that I reel backwards, until my hands find the edge of my desk to lean on. My heart feels like it’s getting ready to explode out of my chest.
I push off from my desk and lurch toward the door to my office, trying to get as far away from this scene as I can. I don’t have a moment’s worry that Brody will hurt Stacy. The man may have every reason in the world to kill her, and he may have his hand wrapped around her throat right now, but I know he won’t do anything. It’s not in Brody’s nature, of that I have the utmost conviction.
My stomach rolls with nausea. I was never meant to hear those words, and I want to scrub my memory so I don’t carry the burden of knowing them. It’s a terrible secret that Brody’s been carrying, and there’s no way he wanted me to hear that. He kept it far too long for that to happen.
Oh, God… poor Brody.
He spent five years in prison for something he didn’t do?
I can’t even fathom bearing such an awfully weighted albatross. My heart cracks wide open at the thought of everything that he missed out on. Everything he gave up. I mean, there was a part of me that accepted Brody’s prison sentence because it was a punishment for something he did wrong. But to know now that he suffered for someone else, and he suffered in silence… I feel just shredded with this knowledge.
Tears well up in my eyes as I leave my office, and I stagger down the aisle between the dog kennels. When I get outside, I half walk, half run, toward the barn, trying to put as much physical distance in between me and the tragedy that is Brody and Stacy, terrified that their voices will continue to follow me and add to the secret I’m now already carrying.
Once inside the barn, I hastily feed and water Midget, opening the stall door to the outside corral. Turning left and right, I can’t think of what else I need to do at this moment… other than hide away and maybe hope that Brody just leaves for the day so I don’t have to deal with this.
Stepping outside of Midget’s stall, I lean my back against the wall and slide to the ground. Pulling my feet up, I lean my head forward and rest it against my knees, wrapping my arms around my shins.
I don’t know how long I stay in that position, my mind racing with the knowledge. How in the hell can I look at Brody now and keep the truth of the secret I now harbor away from him?
“You overheard us,” he says from the open barn doorway.
I raise my head slowly and look at him. His face is blank—devoid of any emotion—and tears well back up in my eyes. “I didn’t mean to. I left as soon as I realized I could hear you.”
“Since you’re hiding out here in the barn, I’m thinking you heard enough,” he guesses accurately, and all I can do is nod.
“You can’t tell anyone,” he instructs me, his gaze burning into me with purpose.
“Why not?” I ask hesitantly, because I don’t understand why this is a secret. How did something like this ever get to be a secret?
“Because I said so,” he says, just before turning away and walking out of the barn. I stare at his retreating back for just a moment, and then I scramble up to run after him.
He’s halfway to the kennels when I catch up, reaching out to latch onto his wrist. He stops and looks at me with annoyance.
“What?” he practically barks.
“That’s it? Because you said so?”
“Because I said so,” he affirms, adding on for good measure, “and because it’s none of your business.”
Brody tries to pull away, but I hold on tight. “I don’t understand what’s going on.”
He takes one step toward me and leans down so we’re almost nose to nose. “It’s not hard to figure out, Alyssa. I wasn’t driving the car that night.”
“But you said you were,” I murmur.
“No, Stacy said I was, and I didn’t deny it. But it had the same consequence.”
“Why?” I stammer, because I can’t imagine someone taking the fall for someone else.
“Alyssa…” he says softly, his eyes warming up just a tad as he brings his hand to cup my jaw tenderly. I wait with baited breath, not sure if he’s going to reveal something to me or kiss me, either of which is fine by me. Instead, he says, “It’s really… None. Of. Your. Damn. Business.”
He annunciates each word sharply, squeezing my jaw just a little tighter as he does. Then he stares at me for a moment, making sure the message has sunk in.
Brody releases me and turns away, headed for the kennels. “I’m going to start giving the anti-socials their leash walks unless you have something else for me to do.”
He doesn’t wait for my response, and I really have nothing else to say.
***
Grabbing a cold beer out of my refrigerator and my laptop off my kitchen table, I walk out onto my balcony that overlooks the Atlantic. Settling into a teak lounge chair, I look out at the moon-painted water for a few minutes and try to clear my mind of everything I learned today.
After Brody’s revelation, I texted Casey and Gabby with shaky fingers and begged off meeting them for breakfast at The Sand Shark. I told them I had a new dog I was taking possession of and while I hated to lie on the phone, I knew I’d never be able to face them with the burden of this secret. At least not until I could process it.
This is my sanctuary… my beach home. It’s small but richly appointed, about the only place that I’ve truly spent some of my fortune in a frivolous manner. It only has two bedrooms, one of which I use for a home office, but the African wenge hardwoods, custom fabric wall coverings, and state-of-the-art kitchen with a fortune in shiny, stainless steel appliances definitely shows my “heiress” side coming through.
I make no apologies for how I live. It’s my money to do as I please, and since I spend most of it caring for homeless animals, I figure a splurge on my little beach cottage is something my conscience can handle.
Setting my beer down on the table beside me, I open my laptop and boot it up. Within just a few minutes and a few clever search terms, I’m staring at a news article about the car accident Brody was involved in. The grainy photograph is of the accident scene, which shows Stacy’s car up against the tree, the driver’s door wide open, and the air bag hanging from the steering wheel. The article is entitled “Durham Man Killed by Drunk Driver”.
I skim the article, but it doesn’t tell me more than what I already knew.
Or rather, what I already thought I knew to be the truth.
Basically, local resident, Frank Castas, had been walking home from a quick trip to a local convenience story when he was struck and killed by second-year Duke medical student, Brody Markham. The article went on to say that Brody had tested over the legal limit for alcohol consumption and had been charged with Felony Death by Vehicle, pointing out that he was out on bond awaiting trial. The article mentioned Stacy only briefly as a passenger, but I found it interesting it said there was no evidence she had been drinking. I can’t help but wonder—if that was the case, why did Brody need to pretend he was driving?
The article ends with some information about Mr. Castas. He worked at an electric co-op for the last twelve years and was survived by a wife and a three-year-old son, a fact that pains my heart, and one that I knew had to have weighed heavy on Brody.
Except now… how hard does it weigh? He’s not the one, apparently, that killed that man. Or does he feel guilt in some other way? Clearly, the man is drowning in torment, and it’s not even his torment to suffer.
All of this makes my head hurt.
Brody makes my head hurt.
He’s a man that intrigues me greatly and causes my heart to beat madly. I’m torn between wanting to hug away his pain or kiss him into pleasurable abandon. Both are born of a desire to help Brody, but the kissing part is also of benefit to me too. I cannot believe the level to which I actually lust after him. I’ve not felt this way about a man since… well, since never. Not to where I’m having very inappropriate thoughts every time he’s near me, which sucks, since apparently Brody refuses to allow anything more to happen.
I decide to check my email quickly before logging off and heading to bed. My eyes fly over and ignore an email from my mom, because I’m sure it’s nothing more than an update on what parties she attended this past week. Another by Gabby goes unread too, because I can tell by the headline “Peed My Pants,” it’s some kind of dirty meme or something. I’ll save that for tomorrow.
But the email from Chad gets my attention, and I open it up with a mixture of dread and annoyance. It’s simple and to the point, but completely stalkerrific.
I’m tired of calling, and you ignoring me. How can we work on our issues when one person won’t even leave open the door of communication? You make it difficult to love you, Alyssa.
Call me as soon as you get this email, baby. I still love you at this point.
Shivers run up and down my spine and suddenly, I feel very vulnerable sitting out on my deck, which has an open staircase leading right down on to the beach. I’m pretty sure Chad has a screw knocked loose, and I probably need to take this a bit more seriously.
I quickly shut my laptop, pick up my beer, and head inside. Once the glass doors are closed behind me, I lock them and set the alarm. Peering out onto the moonlit beach, it looks peaceful and serene. But between what I learned today about Brody and what I just read right now from Chad, I’m not feeling it.