Burying Water

Page 27

I hear someone mutter a “sorry” behind me as I peel myself off of Dean’s body, quickly adjusting my hair that got pushed back.
Not quickly enough.
“Holy shit.” Dean stops my hand in his, a shocked frown wrinkling his forehead. “What happened to your face?”
The person standing just behind Dean turns at his words and now stares at me. I feel the bartender staring at me. And others. Others are staring at me, at my face.
I finally manage to yank my hand from Dean’s grasp and swipe my hair forward to cover the scar.
That’s when Jesse appears. “Don’t you ever f**king grab her like that,” he growls, edging in between us, forcing me to take a step back.
“I didn’t grab her. And get the hell away from me, Welles, or I’ll kick your ass out and there’s nothing your daddy can do about that.” As if Dean wasn’t using his full size before, he suddenly appears larger, looming over Jesse. They may be the same height, but where Jesse is lean and muscular, Dean is broad and bulky. I don’t see how Jesse could win against that. And I don’t want to see him try.
I reach up to settle a tentative hand on Jesse’s arm, the tension in his body surging into my fingertips. “It’s okay. I’m fine.” Embarrassed and ready to go home, but fine.
He adjusts his stance slightly, peering down at me over his shoulder. “You sure?”
“Yeah, she’s sure,” Dean answers for me.
I think I hear Jesse’s teeth crack against each other, his jaw is clenched so tight.
To me, Dean offers, “It’s too bad about your face. You hide it well, though.”
I’m not sure if he meant it as an apology or a compliment, or if it was really just a dumbass comment, but the next thing I know, hands are seizing my shoulders and pulling me back, and Jesse’s taking a swing at Dean. His fist slams into the big guy’s jaw, sending him back a step. Dean’s elbow knocks a tray of fries off the bar and onto the floor.
It must hurt, because it takes him a moment to face Jesse again. When he does, rage is burning in his eyes. “George!” he hollers to the bartender, who immediately picks up the phone. Throwing Jesse into a headlock, Dean leads him out, the crowd parting for the two angry men.
The hands that pulled me back earlier fall from my arms. “Sorry about that. I didn’t want you getting in the mix.”
I turn to see the guy Jesse walked in with beside me. “Thanks.”
“They need Licks here, right?” He nods toward the scattered fries.
I frown. “Licks?”
Jesse’s friend stares at me for so long, an unreadable look in his eyes, that I begin to get uncomfortable. Finally, I hold my hand out. “I’m Water.”
“Right.” He takes my hand. “Luke.”
“Luke,” I repeat. “Nice to meet you. Are you from around here?”
He shakes his head. “Portland. On my way to Boise tonight, and I thought I’d stop in Bend and see Jesse for a bit.”
“Do you know him well?”
“I guess you could say that, yeah. We lived together.”
Lived together? He must know Jesse very well. I know this is prying, but I’ll blame it on the beer if anyone accuses me of being nosy. “Do you know why he moved back to Sisters?” And why he and Sheriff Gabe were fighting last night?
“Uh . . .” Luke drops his gaze to the floor, as if he’s searching for an answer there. “I think he just missed being home.”
I can’t tell if Luke doesn’t know the real reason or if he’s lying. “I can understand that. It’s beautiful here.”
“You like living here?”
I smile. Finally, a question I don’t have to lie about. “Yeah, it’s a great place.”
“Really? I wouldn’t have—” He cuts off abruptly, a frown zagging across his forehead. “I need to go. Uh . . . I’m going to go outside and wait for the cops with Jesse.” He grimaces. “Bartender called them.”
“Crap . . .” Jesse’s going to get into more trouble with his dad. Because of me.
Why would he even do that?
“Maybe I’ll see you around.” Luke heads for the door, his steps quick.
After a brief visit to the restroom to make sure my hair is all fixed, I head back over to our table to hear Bonnie say, “I thought Dean and him were over all that.”
I sit down beside Amber, who’s not bothering to hide her scowl. “Over what?” I ask.
“Something that happened to Dean’s best friend, Tommy, back in high school.”
Tommy . . . “The kid who was stabbed?”
Amber lifts a questioning brow at me and then clues in. “Dakota told you.”
“Yeah.” I give her a sheepish shrug.
“I didn’t say anything earlier because I didn’t want you to worry about having Jesse next door after . . . you know.” She snorts. “Funny, I figured Dakota was too stoned in high school to even know what was going on.”
“Did you say Dakota?” The redhead rolls her eyes. It’s obvious that everyone at this table shares Amber’s opinion, though some are more catty about it than others.
“I’m going to get some fresh air,” I tell Amber. Maybe I can help by talking to the officer about what happened.
She sighs, dragging herself up. “Yeah, I guess I should come with you and see if my brother’s in handcuffs. I’m sure my dad’s here by now.”
I spot the sheriff’s emblem on the white car as soon as we step outside. Jesse’s sitting on a step under the watchful eye of a police officer, his elbows resting on his knees, glaring at Dean, who’s talking to the sheriff.
“Do you know what set him off?” Amber asks.
“I’m not sure.” Did it even have anything to do with me? Or was I just an excuse for Jesse to pick a fight? Is he that kind of guy?
We watch as Dean nods to Sheriff Gabe and turns back toward us. His eyes catch mine briefly but he ducks his head and keeps marching, until he disappears into the bar. I’m guessing Dean isn’t as interested in knowing me as he was earlier.
With a holler and a wave from Sheriff Gabe, the other cop leaves Jesse and his friend sitting on the curb and drives off.
“I guess he’s getting off for that,” Amber says as we watch Jesse and Luke climb into Jesse’s car. “Probably easier for everyone.” She sighs. “I’m heading back in.”
Sheriff Gabe looks over at us, his lips pressed into a firm line. “I’m actually going to ask your dad for a ride home.”
Amber frowns. “Aren’t you having fun?”
“Yeah, I am,” I lie. “I’m just tired.”
She shrugs, giving my arm a squeeze. “Okay. See you later.”
I make my way over to the sheriff’s car. “Could I get a ride? In the front, preferably,” I add with a smile.
He dips his head. “Sure, Water. Come on.”
The farther away we get from the bar, the more I relax. His police radio keeps going off until he turns the volume dial all the way down. “I’m not supposed to be on duty anyway,” he explains, adding softly, “though I don’t really know what that means anymore.”
“You should take a vacation. I’d love to recommend somewhere, but . . . you know.”
His head nods slowly, but his solemn mask never cracks. It doesn’t seem as though he finds my attempt at amnesia humor funny. I can guess that he didn’t enjoy having to bail his son out tonight. “So how come you wanted to leave? You weren’t having fun?” Sheriff Gabe finally asks.
I think about that question as the tick-tick-tick of the turn signal fills the silence in the car. “Not really,” I admit finally. “I just didn’t feel like I fit in there. Amber’s friends are nice and all, but . . . I don’t know. Maybe it was too much for me.”
Maybe I would have enjoyed myself had I been with Jesse.
Or maybe I’m just more of a loner.
He chuckles. “Amber’s friends can be too much for me. Amber always was the social butterfly growing up. She didn’t mind the attention at all.”
“I feel like I’m so different from her in that way. Maybe I wasn’t before, but I am now.” I pause before adding, “Thanks for not arresting Jesse tonight. I think that was partly my fault.”
He nods once but doesn’t ask any more questions. I’ve probably created enough work for him as it is. “Wouldn’t have done anybody any good.”
“Will you get into any trouble over that? You know, with voters and letting your son off and stuff.”
His forehead furrows deep. “This is my last term. I’ll be resigning after this. Retiring, technically.”
“Really? The way Ginny and Amber talk about you, I thought you were meant for that shiny badge.”
“Doesn’t hang quite right on me anymore.”
The rest of the drive is silent.
It isn’t until I’m sitting alone on my back balcony, taking in the canopy of stars, that I really think about what happened tonight. I trail my finger against the long ridge running down my face. How many more times will I hide this scar, only to surprise a guy who might otherwise think I’m pretty?
Who will then pass me by once he discovers that I’m not?
I sit back and wonder if I’ll be able to find someone who sees beyond it. It’s just a scar, right? A blemish on the outside.
And a confused girl with no past on the inside.
Mostly, though, I sit and wonder about the guy next door. I wonder where he is right now, because he’s not in his garage.
And that makes my heart heavy with disappointment.
TWENTY-FIVE
Jesse
then
It’s just after ten by the time I turn into the driveway. I take the potholes extra slow for Alex’s sake, but I can’t avoid them completely. Her fingers curl around the door’s molding with each bump.
She argued with me when I told her where I wanted to take her, but after I promised that it would be fine—that no one would see her like this—she relented, throwing together an overnight bag. I pulled her BMW into the garage and then I helped her into my car, a wary eye on the cameras. I didn’t want to bring it up but she must have read my mind, because she told me that she knows how to delete footage and Viktor never checks anyway.
So, just like that, I left Portland behind, with Alexandria Petrova in my passenger seat. I didn’t even go home to grab a change of clothes, because I wanted to get her as far away as I could, as fast as possible.
I round the house, passing the sheriff’s sedan that I hoped wouldn’t be there but knew probably would.
“There’s a police car in your driveway, Jesse,” she says slowly.
“I know. It’ll be fine, I promise. And it’s not a police car. My dad’s the sheriff.” I keep heading down the narrow path toward my garage. I call it “my garage” because my granddad used to own this property and he left that building to me. Sure, it’s on my parents’ land and they cover the electricity bills, but the space within—to work, to sleep, to be happy—is mine. No one’s going to go against a dead man’s wishes. Not even the sheriff.
An outdoor spotlight appears in my rearview mirror and a moment later, a figure steps out from the sliding door off the kitchen, flashlight in hand. It takes three minutes to walk from the house to the garage and he’s already on his way.
I hit the automatic button to the double door that I keep with me at all times and roll into my big, beautiful garage. Under other circumstances, I’d be floating on a euphoric high right now—pulling my dream car in here for the first time.
But right now, I have a beat-up girl in the passenger seat and if my father sees her looking like this, no one’s going to be happy. Hell, he’ll probably haul me in for questioning. It wouldn’t be the first time.
I unfasten her seat belt for her. “We’ve gotta move quick, okay?”
She nods and picks up her purse. I grab her bag from the backseat and then run around to the passenger side to help her out. Thank God the garage’s entrance is angled toward our neighbor’s house—an old hermit lady who’ll be locked up in her bed by now—or he’d see right in here.
In seconds I have the back door unlocked. I guide Alex up the narrow stairs and into the small attic apartment, the air cold and stale. “Here, just sit still. Or better yet—” I lead her to the stripped bed, the bedding sitting neatly folded. My mom must have been in here. “Lie down. I’ll come back soon.”
She eases herself back until she’s lying on my bed, staring up at me, her eyes wide with panic. “Please don’t tell him, Jesse. I don’t want to explain this to anyone.” I’m guessing that if she’d known my father was a sheriff, she never would have agreed to this.
“I won’t. Promise. Just don’t move, because this floor will creak.” I lean down to kiss her forehead, adding with a whisper, “And he doesn’t believe in ghosts.”