I secretly hope for a downpour, a flash flood, anything that’ll cut short my night out with Cody.
I squint and balance the wood just right on my thigh while I drive the chisel into the timber, slowly and delicately carving out small pieces that will soon become an elk. With the flashlight balanced on the banister, I’m able to work out here until late.
After spending almost six hours at the McKinstry place, cleaning up the mess of fingerprint dust and destruction the vandals left behind, my hands are already aching. I flex my fist a couple times just as headlights blast through the thick darkness. Tires crunch on gravel until Cody’s truck comes into view.
He rolls down the window. “Come on, man! Jump in before it starts dumping out here.”
With a heavy sigh I’m glad he can’t hear, I grab my things and put them inside, making sure all the windows are shut to keep the rain out. I grab my hoodie sweatshirt and my baseball hat. The more cover the better chance I have of melting into the background tonight.
The first few drops of rain fall as I pull myself into Cody’s truck. “Hey.”
“I hope you’re ready to let loose, man.” He grins wide and for a moment I see a tiny bit of Shyann in her brother. It’s in the pull of their lips, the way they— “Whoa, dude. Don’t look at me like that. This ain’t a date.”
I sink deeper into my seat, hoping he can’t see the embarrassment blaring on my face.
He floors it down the dirt road, and as we pass Shyann’s house, I force my eyes forward, refusing to look for her truck, to see if her lights are on. Now that Cody is home, she’s not mine to take care of. His job to keep her safe.
Protected from people like me.
The truth slices through my gut, and although I don’t usually drink alcohol—my boozing experience consists of peer-pressured moments in group homes and the aftermath of Gage’s nights out—I’m thinking that maybe a couple drinks tonight are needed. The numbing effect will help take the edge off the emptiness of missing Shy. Mourning the death of the dream I’d stupidly allowed myself to indulge in. Maybe the liquor will help erase the memory of her fear as she scrambled from my touch. Just one night I want to squelch the ache of the truth. I’m a monster; she deserves better.
It doesn’t take long before we’re jogging through the rain toward a barn with the name PISTOL PETE’S in neon and the twang of country music filtering through the sideboards.
The double doors open to a crowd of people and a stage where a band plays and a man sings about his love of the South. I keep the hood of my sweatshirt pulled over my baseball hat while we move through the crowd. The space confining, people brush up against me, but I keep my eyes to the backs of Cody’s legs and refuse to acknowledge anyone.
The room gets quieter the farther we head back and when Cody finally stops at a pool table, I look up. The majority of the hundred-plus people in here are around the stage, so except for a few other guys shooting pool, it’s just us.
I shove back my hood and push my hands into the pockets of my sweatshirt.
“You any good?” He motions to the pool table.
“I’m all right.” One of the group homes I lived in had a pool table. I wasn’t interested in the extracurricular activities most of the other kids engaged in, so I spent a lot of time playing.
His gaze moves over my shoulder. “Great, I’ll rack ’em.” He moves around the table, the entire time keeping his eye on the crowded bar.
I head over to the wall behind him and pick out a pool stick. Staying busy at the table will make this night easier than I thought.
“Oh shit, there she is.” The teasing tone in his voice makes my skin prickle with awareness.
I’ve heard him use that tone before. But only with one person.
As much as I want to whirl around and search her out, I don’t. I keep my eyes firmly planted on the multicolored balls set up in a triangle on the green pelt.
“What the fuck?” His stick slams against the table edge.
My gaze jumps to his.
His lips curl back in disgust and his tall frame locks down. “What the fuck is she wearin’?”
Unable to avoid it any longer, I turn and— “Whoa,” I whisper.
“Shyann Blue Eyes Jennings, get your ass over here now!” Cody’s anger projects across the room, and even though Shyann doesn’t turn to him immediately, her shoulders bunch at the sound of his voice.
He storms around the table just as she squares her shoulders and whirls to meet him, but something stops her dead in her tracks.
It takes me a second to figure out what it is because my eyes are glued to the healthy section of exposed skin around her belly button. I want to watch her legs move under her tiny skirt, see the soft flesh of her thighs rub together, but she’s not moving.
My eyes dart to hers and she’s staring right at me. I cringe at the way her muscles tense upon seeing me.