Page 26 of Dare
Fuck.I imagined it was a car accident or something, not an assault. “You don’t knowwho?”
“Didn’task and she didn’t say.”
“I’llkill the motherfucker,” I growl.
Thesmiles exchanged between Justus and Jeremy don’t escape my attention, but Iignore them.
Wedrink until the beer runs dry and Tucker eventually goes to crash upstairs. Asdawn approaches, Jeremy takes one of the other two guest rooms, leaving me andJustus on the front porch. The horizon glows pink with whispy clouds strewnthrough the sky.
Justusstares into the distance. “Jed would like Tucker. I think he’ll work out fine.”
* * * *
Aydahas been avoiding me, and only giving short, clipped answers when I try to talkto her through the wall. It’s starting to piss me off. After her reaction to mein her kitchen, I know she feels the same pull I do between us, and I’m notgoing to let her ignore it.
Thefaint sounds of her T.V. permeate the wall, as if she’s trying to keep it downso I don’t know she’s there. “What are you watching?” I ask.
Aftera few seconds of silence, she replies, “Just the news.”
“Thanksgivingis a few days away.”
“Yep.”
“Doyou go to your family, or do you cook?”
Athump and a sigh makes me picture her, slumped against the wall. “Neither. Ijust skip it.”
Sheplans to spend Thanksgiving alone? Yeah, that’s not happening. “You’re comingwith me. My friend’s girlfriend is cooking at his house and we’re invited.”
“Youmean you’re invited,” she snorts.
“Meand whoever the hell I want to bring. Be ready about noon.”
“Thanksfor the invitation, Dare, but I’ll have to pass.” My cock hardens when she saysmy name, which is fucking ridiculous.
“Youdon’t have to bring anything. I’ll stop and grab a pie or something.”
“Isaid no, Dare.”
“Iheard you.”
“You’rein a mood today.” She’s usually full of smart ass retorts. “What’s wrong?”
It’squiet and about the time I think she won’t answer, she speaks up. “You know theman who sleeps behind the dumpster? I bring him food sometimes, but he hasn’tbeen there the past few days. I think something might’ve happened to him.”
“He’sfine. A friend of mine owns a farm and needed some help. He gave him a job anda place to stay.”
“Really?How do you know him?”
“Sameway you do. We’ve spent a few dinners together on the curb.”
Silencestretches out and I can almost hear the gears whirring in her brain. “Thank youfor helping him. I tried, but he wouldn’t go to a shelter or anything.”
“He’sreally fond of you. I invited him for Thanksgiving dinner as well, but he saidhe’s going to visit family.”
“Whythe hell was he on the street if he has family?”
Theindignation in her voice makes me smile. “He might be full of shit and justdoesn’t want to come.”
