Page 19 of Drifting Hearts
There was a distinct possibility that I’d gotten too involved in this. At first, it was because I was worried that Clayton was running a con. Part of me had still been waiting for the other shoe to drop, up until today when Mom called me, worried sick about Clayton. She’d been unable to leave to go look for him because one of the girls had a meeting with a social worker and Mom had promised to be there. The girls were her first priority, but Clayton had been gone for a long time.
Mom also told me about the bus fare. She’d described the way he’d looked almost sick to the stomach when he asked her. At first I thought it might have been that proverbial shoe dropping. The start of the con. Mom insisted otherwise, she was almost in tears prompting me to keep my suspicions to myself.
Then I saw Clayton sitting on the bench in the park. At first glance, he looked like someone sitting and enjoying the day. But he’d completely checked out. I’d seen Clayton angry and annoyed. Sad andfrustrated. I’d seen him unhappy, but not miserable. Sitting on that bench, though, he looked like he was ready to give up.
I could have thought of a million different reasons why I wasn’t okay with that. Lying would be the easy thing to do. I could say I cared because Shane had invested money into Clayton and I didn’t want his investment to go to waste, but that answer made me feel cold and dead inside. The truth was, despite my best intentions, Clayton had stopped being my enemy. He was hardly a friend, but I had trouble holding onto my dislike of him.
We ordered dinner. Bennett’s always had great food, but when Taylor took over the kitchen a few years ago, it went from great to fantastic. Even when Taylor wasn’t there personally, his passion for the job bled into the other people he’d trained to run the kitchen.
“Mom works with a few businesses in town to find jobs for the women who stay with her. It helps them build new skills, confidence, etcetera.” I picked up the ketchup and squirted a puddle of it onto the edge of my plate to dunk my fries in. “I think we should do the same for you. Find you a job, help give you the tools to get back on your feet.”
Clayton blanched. “Your family has done so much for me already. More than I deserve. I can’t ask for more.”
“You didn’t ask. I offered. And the more I think about it, the more I think I’m right.”
“I’m a mess, Kieran.” Clayton looked me in the eye for a split second. His eyes were a stunning shade of blue, like the color of the Mediterranean, but they were flat. There was no spark or sparkle, no life in them, just pain and sadness so deep I wondered how he hadn’tdrowned yet.
“I know you’re a mess. But you’re working to un-mess yourself.” I winced at the way I’d phrased that, but my awkwardness was rewarded with the flash of a half-smile from Clayton.
“Why did you bring me here?” Clayton took a sip of his iced tea.
“Mom was worried about you when you didn’t come home right away. And one of the girls was having a meeting that Mom had to be there for so she couldn’t go find you. And then I saw you sitting in that park and I realized how hard this shit must be for you.”
Clayton snorted. “It’s a cake walk compared to sweating through my sheets every night worrying about Sam and how I’m going to pay him. Or from people forcing their way into my—never mind.” Clayton shut down and his walls flew up, but it was easy to see from how uncomfortable he looked that he was having trouble putting his defenses back in place.
“I brought you here because it seemed cruel to take you straight back home. Mom told me you asked for some bus fare. Where did you want to go?”
Clayton bit out a laugh. It sounded dark and watery. Self-deprecating. “It was stupid.”
“I have two brothers. I’m used to people doing stupid shit.”
“I just wanted to ride around. I was tired of being cooped up. I was going to sit on the bus and just… ride around. Maybe learn where shit is so I could get myself to my own appointments. I know you’ve been dropping everything to deal with my shit.”
Of course Clayton wanted independence. Who wouldn’t? Especially someone in his position who’d gone from having no one to lean on, to being forced into taking kindness from strangers. Though Mom and I were hardly strangers to him anymore, I could still understand why he’d want to regain some freedom.
“Do you think you could help find me a job?” Clayton asked. He caught my gaze and lifted his cast covered arm. “I don’t know what I can do with a boot on my leg and a cast on my arm, but there has to be something.”
“I’ll talk to Mom; she’ll have a better idea of who to talk to about that.”
Clayton nodded and went back to eating. The color had returned to his cheeks, but he still looked like he was dead inside. When I’d first told him about Josie and how she’d gotten back on her feet, his expression had opened like a flower blooming and I saw the naked hope shine out of him for a split second before he closed himself off again.
That moment when the clouds in his eyes had parted made something in my chest flutter. The bruises had faded from his face and his hair, which had red highlights in it when the sun hit it just right, had grown out a little. It was curlier now at the ends, making him seem younger.
“How old are you?” I figured he’d be about the same age as his former best friend, Archer, who was pushing thirty.
Clayton let out a long-suffering sigh. “Old enough that I should have my shit together by now. I’m thirty this year.” Clayton reached for his iced tea. “Why do you ask? Are we at the ‘what’s your favorite color’ part of the conversation?”
“Green. Specifically moss green.”
Clayton stopped and slowly a smile appeared. It was shy and I didn’t want to draw attention to it in case I chased it away.
“Burnt orange,” he said, offering me a small piece of himself. “Burnt orange and pink.”
His cheeks flushed as he admitted to liking the color pink, as though it was something shameful.
I wanted to tell him that I liked pink too. But what the hell was I doing? The funny feeling in my chest kept appearing. It wasn’t a heart attack. That would have been almost easier than admitting I found Clayton attractive.
I didn’t want to.
