10. Kieran
Chapter 10
Kieran
Whatever the fresh hell had Shane been thinking when he decided to help Clayton? I wanted to drive to his place and shake him until he got a clue. He’d gotten too used to just solving things with money. I realized that if Shane hadn’t stepped in, Clayton would be homeless and/or dead by now. And while the alternative hadn’t been an option, the current situation wasn’t much better.
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 and frustrated. 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’t drowned 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.
Oh holy shit, did I not want to be attracted to him. Not only was it the worst idea on the planet, but nothing quite said “let’s fuck up the family dynamic” like giving in to a passing attraction to the enemy of your brother’s boyfriend. I didn’t know if former best friends were quite in enemy territory, but I did know that Archer hadn’t been to see Clayton since the hospital. I knew Mom kept Shane up to date about it, not trusting me at first to keep my cool with him.
I hadn’t talked to Shane much since I’d picked Clayton up. At first it was because I was too pissed at him to speak. I’d seen Clayton as a thief and a problem. Someone who wanted to take advantage of other people.
Now I was beginning to suspect that I had been wrong. Clayton did a bad thing, but people could do bad things without them being bad people. It didn’t help that I had Mom in my ear singing his praises. About how far he’d come since he moved in. How hard he worked at his therapy. He was quiet and kept to himself. She’d basically adopted him at this point.
“How did you meet Archer?”
Clayton looked at me like he couldn’t believe I’d actually be interested in anything he had to say. I supposed that was my fault for being such a prickly bastard. He sat and stared at me for a minute before launching into his story.
“We met through a community art class. Neither one of us really fit anywhere, you know? And we ended up in a summer art program together.” Clayton shrugged, clearly uncomfortable with the sudden walk down memory lane.
My appetite was sated, but I picked at my fries to give myself something to do. When Clayton continued, I was surprised.
“He was quiet in the beginning. Like he didn’t trust me. Or anyone. At first I thought Cyrus was his dad.” Clayton almost laughed at that. It was just a puff of air, a light sound that had his lips curving into the first proper smile I’d seen on his face. Even his eyes lit up. “Cyrus was so mad when I called him Mister Kinsman. Archer just about pissed himself laughing. It happened a lot, that people thought Cyrus was his dad and that their parents were Archer’s grandparents.”
“What was the art program like? What kind of stuff did you do there?”
“A bit of everything. There were different volunteers who would come in every week to host a class. Landscape artists. Portraits. Still life. Sculpture. Wood carving. Archer was good at everything.” Clayton rolled his eyes, but he looked proud, like he admired Archer.
“I’ve seen his paintings. He’s good.”
“He’s painting again? That’s good. That … that makes me happy. I wish I could tell him that I’m happy for him.” Clayton pushed his plate away and leaned back in the booth. Exhaustion was etched into his features. “Are you really going to help me get a job?”
“Do you want my help?”
“Want? No. Not really. Need? Yes. I need your help, Kieran.”
The quiet rasp of his voice scraped across my nerve endings in a thrilling way when he spoke my name. I wanted him to say it again and again while also hating that he said it like I was his friend. I wasn’t his anything. I was just doing my brother a favor because he’d gone and fallen for someone with excess baggage and too big of a heart. While I’d initially been annoyed that they insisted on helping Clayton, I couldn’t think of what would have become of him had they walked away. The thought of it made my stomach knot.
“I hate to be that guy, but can we go?” Clayton looked like he could sleep for a week.
“I’ll pay and then pull the truck around.”
“I’d argue with you, but I’m too tired.” Clayton frowned. “What kind of job can I get right now when walking more than a hundred feet wears me out for the rest of the day?”
“You let me worry about that.” I got up from the table and went up to the counter to settle the bill. By the time I paid and pulled the truck around, Clayton had hobbled out of the diner and, with a little extra effort, managed to heave himself into the passenger seat.
After buckling his seat belt, he closed his eyes. It was only when I pulled into the driveway at Mom’s did I realize that Clayton was asleep. He looked peaceful. Unbothered by pain and not haunted by his past. He was even more beautiful. And I was even more fucked.