Sticking my phone in my back pocket, I head up to Kaleb’s room to clean out anything I’ll need in the immediate future. Lightning flashes out the window as I enter his room, and I turn on the lamp, the smell of the wood, fire, and books like home now, because I’ve spent countless hours in this room over recent months.
Picking up the tattered hardback on his bedside table, I open it to where a pencil is stuck inside and look at the sketch I saw him working on one night. Me in the shower, water spilling over my top half as I rinse my hair.
I told him that I read some of his journal entries, and while he wasn’t upset, I haven’t seen him write any more since. When he does dive into the flyleafs, he just draws now.
I assured him I wouldn’t read more, unless he wanted me to, but he doesn’t feel safe. In some ways, he opened up more with me. In others, he retreated.
I pick up the pencil and start writing on the opposite page.
Noah said something a couple of months ago. He said you were my first, and if I followed my mother’s advice, then I wasn’t supposed to end up with you.
Rain starts hitting the roof and lightning strikes again, followed by a roll of thunder.
But at the time, in my head, you weren’t the first. You were the one I should be with, because I finally liked myself, and I liked how you pushed me, because it made me push back. You made me learn how to demand.
And for that, I’ll always be grateful.
I can’t take any more than short, shallow breaths, because a lump lodges in my throat.
You’re at the bar with them now, and I’m alone in your room, knowing I should keep packing my suitcase but not wanting to, because the highs with you are so good. I don’t want it to stop.
But the lows…
The lows are like I’m nine again and still waiting for them to love me.
I can’t keep being grateful for the scraps. I need more from him.
You won’t change, and the bottom line is… I won’t stay. You’re not my parents. You don’t ignore me. But you’re punishing me. You wield the only power you have, and I don’t know why I thought I could get more out of you, because if you didn’t talk to Noah and Jake for seventeen years, why would you talk for me?
Maybe it’s about control. A way to dominate us. I don’t know, but it hurts.
I think you loved me, though. And I love you. I was yours that first night when you took me in your arms in the shop, and you didn’t even know my name. It was a rough road we traveled to get here, and I knew you were the one even then.
I look up at the ceiling, listening to the storm. Kaleb was rain. Passion, a scream, and my hair sticking to my face as I wrapped my arms around him. Spontaneous and loud all over my skin.
He was whispers, too, though. Snow, firelight, and searching for his warmth between the sheets at two a.m. when the rest of the house is asleep.
Remember the three L’s I talked about—Lust, Learn, and Love? There’s another one. One my mother didn’t tell me about, and I’m not sure where it fits, but I know it’s necessary.
I need some time alone to hear myself.
It’s time to Listen.
My head and heart are both saying the same things. I need more from him. I stick the pencil in the book and close it, laying it on his bed before turning off the lamp.
Closing the door, I head downstairs, texting my uncle on the way.
I’m picking up Mirai at the airport.
He just doesn’t need to know I’ve decided to keep us at the motel in town. It’s a wise choice, anyway. The peak could get snowed in again, and I don’t think she and Jake need to be locked up in such close proximity.
I toss some toiletries into the suitcase and close it up, carrying it downstairs. Setting it by the door, I pull on my rain boots and coat, hearing the dogs barking out in the barn.
I walk over to the window and look outside. It’s not like they aren’t used to thunder up here. What are they barking at?
The door to the stable swings open and closed in the wind, the light left on and casting a glow as the rain pours. Mud puddles dance as drops hit, and I buckle up my raincoat, heading out the shop door.
I walk across the room, opening the bay door and stepping outside.
Running to the stable, I squeal as water hits my jeans, and I dash inside, throwing off my hood.
Danny howls as Johnny runs up to me, and I give him a quick pet, hearing Shawnee thrashing in her stall. She whinnies, jumping up and down, her hooves hitting the wooden door.
What the hell?
I run over, grabbing her mane and pulling her down to me. I stroke her nose.
“Hey, hey, it’s just rain.” I chuckle, giving her a good rub. “You’ve gotta be used to storms by now.”
“It’s not the storm upsetting her,” someone says.
Tiernan
I twist around, my heart thundering in my chest as a hooded figure steps out of the next stall. Smoke billows into the air as he drops a cigarette to the ground and grinds it out on the cement.
The overhead light swings back and forth in the breeze, casting him in shadow every few moments.
“Who—?”
But I stop as he slips off the hood of his jacket, and I see Terrance Holcomb turn to face me. Rain has darkened his sweatshirt and glistens across his face as he looks me up and down.
No.
I didn’t hear bikes approach. There are no vehicles outside. He arrived undetected.
He snuck in here.
Quickly, I glance around for anyone else and take a step back, toward the exit.
“We didn’t invite you on the property,” I bite out. “No one wants to see you here.”
“There’s no one here except you, though,” he says, eerily calm. “You’re all alone, right?”
Keeping my eyes locked on him, I reach over and pull a rake off the wall that I can see hanging there out of the corner of my eye while slowly reaching behind me to pull my phone out of my back pocket. His eyes are fixed on my weapon.
He chuckles, stepping toward me as I step back. “At least it’s not a shotgun,” he jokes, and I remember Kaleb and Noah, armed and rushing to the pond to get me away from this guy all those months ago. “It’s cute how they try to protect you.”
“They don’t have to.” I squeeze the long handle. “Leave.”
“What if I came just to talk to you?”
“By lurking in our stable on a dark, rainy night?”
Yeah. This isn’t a social visit. He either saw the Van der Berg’s in town without me and seized his opportunity, or he’s been here, waiting for them to leave.
I retreat another step, his boot crawling heel to toe and approaching.
“Kaleb is going to be charged over the damage he did to those bikes last November,” he says.
I press the power button on my phone and try to swipe in my security pattern behind my back, listening for the small click over the rain that tells me it’s unlocked.
“And yet, you’re here and not the sheriff,” I point out.
I try a few more times, my fingers shaking, but I finally hear the click.
“I’ll say it was an accident,” he tells me. “I’ll take his side and back him up.”
“What makes you think I care?” I tap the screen where I know my phone icon is located.
Terrance grins knowingly. “Everyone saw you two in town today,” he replies. “It was really a no-brainer. Women love assholes, especially the quiet ones. He was always going to have you, even if just a piece.”
My chest is too heavy to breathe. He tries to close the distance between us, and I retreat, the rain growing heavier outside the door behind me.