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“Look, I’m on break…Just a basic chain lock. Do you have them?”
He was back a minute later with the lock and some extra screws. “These are sturdier than the ones that come in the package.”
He rang up my purchase and handed me my change without another word. When I took the bag from his outstretched hand and our eyes met, his were cool and impassive.Screw you, Simon.Did my look convey what I intended, or did my flaming red cheeks and shaking hands give me away?
After work I slipped in through the garage to bypass the living room. When I pulled in, I saw my brother and half a dozen of his friends sprawled out on the couches drinking beer and watching football. Typical Sunday. I could hear my brother cursing out the referee over a blown call and Wes asking someone to grab him another beer from the fridge. I went right to work installing the lock.
Wes Keller would not be tucking me in again tonight.
Christian doesn’t like my company, but he doesn’t like to be alone. Sometimes my brother just has a few of his boys over, but more often than not it’s a full-on blowout. When Saturday nights involve kegs and body shots, I normally hide out at Daisy’s, but this weekend she was out of town with her parents. Without that option, I was stuck eating cold pizza and catching up on homework in my room, watching the clock and praying they’d clear out soon. When midnight passed and the music was still blasting, I put my earbuds in and tried my best to fall asleep.
Wes has been a fixture in our home for as long as I can remember. What’s more, he’s consistently shown me kindness. I can still remember Wes helping me carry my fifth-grade science fair project to school. He made sure I got my display board into the classroom in one piece before heading off down the road to the high school. And before I started driving, Wes used to catch me at the bus stop and give me a ride home when it was raining. Sometimes he’ll pop over after his tour just to hang out, entertaining me with wild stories that seem to happen on a regular basis when you’re a police officer. He’s the one who thinks to ask if I’ve had dinner, and orders take-out when he sees the refrigerator is empty. And Wes is the only person who will step in and correct my brother when he’s being miserable. He’s the only one Christian will listen to.
He wasn’t acting all that weird. Being freaked out is crazy onmypart. This is what I’ve been telling myself.
With the party still raging, Wes knocked on my door and came in, sitting on the edge of my bed as he pulled out an earbud. “What are you listening to?”
“Nothing, just classical. Trying to drown out the noise.” I burrowed deeper into my comforter when his glassy eyes moved down and away from my face. “I have to be up early.”
“I hear you. I’ll see what I can do to clear the place out.” I shrugged, knowing there was nothing anyone could do if my brother was holding court. Smiling, he asked, “How was work today?”
“Fine. I like it.”
“You make good tips there?”
“Decent, I guess.”
“I’ll stop in next time I’m on a weekend shift.”
“That’s not in your area, though, right?”
He reached over and ran a hand through my hair, twisting the ends between his thumb and index finger. “It’s a little bit out of my way, but I’d like to see you in action.”
The way he looked at me didn’t flat-out alarm me, but it did set me on edge. He was too close now. So close I could smell the beer on his breath.
“I’m beat, Wes.”
“Yeah, you get to bed.” He moved in even closer when he put my earbud back into place and then kissed my forehead. I couldn’t hear him, but as he backed away I watched his mouth form the words:Goodnight, baby.
Sound travels easily through the paper-thin walls of our ranch house. Above the din of the football game, I heard Wes ask my brother if I was home from work. “Car’s in the driveway, so yeah, I guess she’s here.” My brother’s careless reply doesn’t sting the way it should. I’m used to it. More often than not, I feel like an unwelcome guest in my own home.
Staring at the ceiling, I listened to them laugh, curse at the television screen and toss insults at one another for hours. I listened for footsteps in the hallway, a tap on my door, the rattling of my newly installed chain lock, but no one came.
I don’t make a habit of ignoring my intuition, but I suspect my instincts are off when it comes to Wes. I hope they are, anyway.
“How did everything work out?”
Deep and raspy—he has the voice of a full-grown man. And I know Simon Wade’s voice even though it wouldn’t take all my fingers and toes to count the number of words he’s directed my way in this lifetime.
He’s materialized out of nowhere, moving in so close that his breath tickles my scalp when he speaks. My hand shakes as I reach for a bowl of rice pudding and place it on my tray. I’ve never tried rice pudding but I’m pretty sure I hate it.
“This isn’t your lunch period.”
“Really? Thanks for clearing that up for me.” He looks away with his lips fixed in a firm line. “The lock?” he asks through clenched teeth.
“Uh, yeah, it works.”
“Good. I forgot to tell you that if the door isn’t solid wood, if it’s just hollow plywood or something, then a chain won’t do shit. It’ll give with a hard push or a kick.”
