AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Mom…” I gave her a little repressive frown. “He’s missing, they said. They were looking for him.”
“And they thought you’d know where he is? Do you?”
“No, I have no idea. I haven’t seen him since the other evening.”
“When you two were fussing. I know that boy hit you even if you did make an excuse for him. There’s something wrong with him, honey. He’s…not right.”
Before she could say anything else, the phone rang, and it was her sister who lived in Macon. Mom settled in with her coffee for a nice long chat, and I managed to slip out before she started cooking. I passed the living room on the way out to the front porch and looked in on Tyler. He seemed to be none the worse for wear as he stood in front of Judge Judy and swayed back and forth. I noticed with a sigh that the Band-Aid was gone, but I didn’t see any more blood, so I kept going.
The minute I opened the screen door, a cool breeze hit me in the face, and it was so unexpected I plopped down on the old swing on the front porch and decided to sit for a minute and enjoy it.
Maybe autumn really was going to get here this year. Autumn was my favorite season, when the leaves changed colors and there was a little hint of cold weather in the air.
I rocked myself gently in the swing and touched the idea of Dylan being missing—being really gone—like I’d touch a sore tooth with my tongue to see how much it hurt. I waited for the pain, but it didn’t come. All I could feel was…a strange sense of relief. That surprised me so much I had to think about it. His disappearance had knocked the breath out of me for a moment when the detectives first talked about the blood. And they were investigating a homicide. I shuddered again at the idea, but that passed, and then all I felt was incredible sadness.
God, I had loved Dylan so much once. So much I thought I’d die from it. And regardless of how the relationship ended, I felt grief and an overwhelming sense of loss nudge up against me like something deadly in the water. It would once have had the power to rip me to pieces, but now I was just unutterably sad. Bitter at what might have been.
I didn’t wish him any harm. I never had, even after that awful night when I’d caught him cheating on me. I really did think he was off somewhere with some new guy or hiding out from his creditors or even playing one of his games. But a couple of nights ago, when I’d seen him last, he’d scared the hell out of me. It had been a long time—not since that night in New York—since he’d done that. I’d only seen him that intense a few times since he followed me to Atlanta, and only once before had he been so savagely out of control. The look in his eyes that night had chilled me to the bone.
He’d come close again this last time. It had been the evening of the twenty-ninth, and I had come home from work a little later than usual and found him waiting for me on the front porch in the dusky evening light.
His hair, like always, was just a little too long and he was wearing it slicked back from his pale, perfect face. His cheeks were smooth and perfectly groomed, and he was wearing sunglasses, even though it was almost dark. He tilted his head up as I stepped up onto the porch and rose to kiss me. As he leaned toward me, a little shudder hit me, and I couldn’t disguise it from him.
“What’s the matter?” he asked, smiling at me. “Someone walk over your grave?”
I ignored his comment with a shrug. “Why are you out here? Wouldn’t Mom let you come inside?”
“I was waiting for you.”
“Well, here I am. I’m tired, though, and it’s hot. Let’s go in where it’s cooler and I can tell Mrs. Anderson she can go home.”
“That old bitch hates me, you know.”
“Who? Mrs. Anderson? No, she just…”
“Hates me, like I said.”
I shrugged, because she did seem to, actually, though she’d never directly said so. Dylan trailed after me inside and went on ahead to the kitchen while I stopped and spoke to Tyler and then went in to check on my mom. By the time I opened the swinging door to the room, Mrs. Anderson was gathering up her stuff and getting ready to leave. Her lips were pressed into a thin line as she passed by me with a little nod. “I see you tomorrow.” She managed to make that sound like a threat as she gave Dylan one last glare and went out the back door.
Dylan, who was reared back in a chair at the kitchen table, raised his middle finger to her as she left.
“Dylan, stop.”
“Why? The old bitch asked me what I was doing here. Like it was any of her goddamn business. I told her so and she said, ‘You devil man. Stay away from Jace. You go away. Leave Jace alone.’” He did such a mean, but perfect mocking of her voice that I smiled a little in spite of myself, hating myself for it even as I was doing it.
Mrs. Anderson had been a real lifesaver for us. What did I think I was doing, smiling at someone making fun of her less than perfect English? She did a hell of a lot better in English than I could probably ever do in Chinese. This was what Dylan always did to me—dug down deep to find the ugly, hidden places. Made me do things I was ashamed of, made me say things I regretted the second they came out of my mouth. Or maybe I shouldn’t blame him for that. Maybe he was just exposing who I really was inside, like when I was a kid and turned over a rock and found the slimy things underneath.
I turned my back on him and got a beer out of the fridge. I noticed Dylan already had one open on the table, helping himself as usual, and not waiting to be asked.
“What’s with the sunglasses?”
“I left my contacts at home.”
I knew he wore contacts, and in fact I’d never seen him without them. He usually wore them all the time indoors and out and put them on the moment he rolled out of bed in the mornings. I thought it was a little affectation to make his eyes so blue, and I often wondered what color they really were. When I’d asked, he’d dodged the question.
After another little pause where he seemed disinclined to say anything and just sat staring at me broodingly, I finally asked. “What do you need, Dylan?”
“Oh, you too? Do I suddenly need areasonto see you?” He sighed dramatically, expansively, like he did everything. Like he was on stage and had to make his gestures big for the people in the back row.
