I move as fast as my feet will carry me to the doors when I hear him mumble behind me. “Fuckin’ freak.”
A light sheen of sweat covers my skin despite the cooler temperature as I shuffle to my truck. My shoulders sag with the weight of betrayal.
How does Shyann know that guy? She promised me she’d never tell anyone my secret, but I got the distinct feeling whoever that guy was knew about me. About Gage.
He called me all the standard-issue names for a guy like me, names I grew up hearing more than my own given name.
If this gets out, if the town finds out who I am, what I’ve done, they’ll want me gone. I’ll be back on the road, jobless, hungry, cold and without a home.
A home.
This is the first place I’ve called home since . . . I push away the thoughts of my mother’s house and focus on getting back to the river house. I squint and concentrate on the road ahead as a blackout presses in.
My pulse roars in my ears.
It was a mistake letting anyone in. Being friends with Mr. Jennings, Cody, and the closeness I felt to Shyann. I should’ve known better. I’ve learned this lesson before and I don’t want to learn it again.
The pain of losing someone is more excruciating than never having someone at all.
I’m safer on my own.
We’re safer on our own.
That’s the way it has to be.
The way it has to stay.
The darkness looms beneath the surface. I need to get home. My foot presses the gas harder. Please, Gage, wait until we’re home.
On that thought, I’m plunged into darkness.
SHYANN
“What do you mean why? I just told you.” Cody huffs into the phone so loud I have to pull it away from my ear to avoid him blowing out my damn eardrum. “The guy delivered early and Dad needs to cut him a check. Just grab the checkbook and get over here before we lose our contract with these guys.”
He hangs up on me and I stare at the checkbook on my desk. Chewing on my lip, I consider cutting my truck’s fuel line to keep from having to bring the stupid thing out to them. I’ve managed to avoid work sites since finding out about Lucas. It’s not that I’m afraid of him, or I judge him in any way . . . Okay, maybe that’s not entirely true. I just realized I don’t know Lucas at all, and everything I thought about Gage, all his threats came flooding back and it hit me. He was right.
I underestimated him.
I allowed myself to feel a false sense of security because I trusted Lucas, but if Gage would hurt his own family . . . my God . . . then what would he do to me?
So I threw myself into work. Made sure I stayed busy and when I wasn’t doing that I was home taking care of my dad. I took over the shopping, cooking, and cleaning. Did laundry, cleaned out the refrigerator, the pantry, and ripped all the frilly crap from my old bedroom.
I did whatever it took to keep my mind off Lucas. Nothing worked. I’ve been hoping to forget the way it felt to make him smile, to feel his touch or be in his arms. And seeing him made it worse. Every time I see him, the ache in my chest gets worse.
The way he looks at me kills, because I’m avoiding him. And he knows it.
I need to move on from my feelings because whether or not I want to believe it, I can’t deny the facts.
It’s possible Gage killed his family.
It’s taken everything in my power to stay in town. My feet itch to run, to put as much space between me and this town as possible. I could go to Los Angeles, live off what little I’ve saved; it’d be the easy way out. Also a coward’s way out.
No more running, Shy.
I groan and scoop up the checkbook, then stomp to my truck, pissed I’m being forced to do this and risk possibly seeing Lucas. I suppose I could flag one of the guys down, throw it out the truck window without actually having to stop. I just . . . I can’t face the man with the scarred neck and the broken soul.
His gray eyes flash in my mind’s eye. Vulnerable, questioning . . . a shell of a man who seemed to come to life the more time we spent together. The more he trusted me, the more I saw bits and pieces of who he really is come forward. Even Gage, I started to believe that we’d forged a truce between us, that he realized I wouldn’t hurt Lucas. Turns out we were both wrong.
The work site comes into view and it’s surrounded by our crew working in various areas, some at the table saw, others lifting tile, and still others noticeable only through the windows working inside.