Chapter Fifteen
Mira
Indian style. Where had that term come from?
It was the most uncomfortable sitting position for someone with very little cushion in their backside.
Though my diet had improved tenfold as of late, my butt bones still threatened to pierce through my paper-thin skin.
Maybe I should have studied harder in anatomy.
I was pretty sure butt bone wasn’t a scientific name.
Paint splattered my leg as I swept the paintbrush across the wooden siding on the front porch.
It was a crisp morning, cool as a fresh spring and not weather-fit for cut-off jean shorts, but there was no way I was going to ruin any of my new clothes painting the house.
Two hours in and my arms were already shaking with fatigue.
Breakfast hadn’t helped much. My stamina was still unimpressive, was all.
The noise of an approaching car made me hunch my shoulders against the dread. Caleb shouldn’t be here. He was starting work on the rig today. It would be his first day back. I had counted the days with a mixed sense of apprehension and relief.
Like Sunday.
When I was young and still in school. Sunday was both my favorite and least favorite day of the week.
It was the weekend, but the last day of it.
Saturday night I would ready for Sunday and think, phew, another day before I start back to school.
But in the next breath I would think, only one more day until I start back to school.
It was the same feeling with Caleb.
No longer would he come over and work on my house. I didn’t have to avoid my home or the man who held my emotions in his careless hand. I also wouldn’t have a chance to see him, and my house would feel emptier without proof of his being there.
I turned slowly. Sadey’s little green hatchback made its way up the dirt road. A shaky breath of relief escaped my parted lips, and I waved with the paintbrush.
Sadey shut the car door, and it echoed into the emptiness of my land below. “Caleb said you could probably use some help today.”
If only the sound of his name didn’t cut a slice through my middle. “You want to use your Saturday to help me paint?”
She shrugged and grabbed a paintbrush before she wrestled her cellphone out of the back pocket of her jeans.
“I’m grounded. Dad said the only acceptable reason for me to leave the house would be manual labor.
I told him a friend needed help painting.
I have to send him pictures on the hour, every hour.
” The phone clicked as she smirked in front of it with a paintbrush placed below her nose like a mustache.
I stood to unscrew the shutter closest to me. “You could paint the shutters so we can get them drying in the yard if you want. What are you grounded for?”
“Broke curfew. By, like, ten minutes. He’s freaking out. You’re so lucky you don’t have anyone bossing you around.”
I didn’t agree but didn’t say so. Her dad loved her.
He wouldn’t stress about her curfew if he didn’t.
I would have given my kneecaps to have someone care about me in such a way.
She didn’t need to be reminded about how pathetic my life was, though.
Sadey just needed someone to listen while she vented.
I turned on the radio Caleb had left behind, and we got to work.
The time passed a lot more quickly with the easy conversation Sadey provided, and by the time the sun hung halfway over the horizon, we had finished three sides of the house.
The back was the only side left bare. We stood back and admired our work.
Sadey picked paint off her hands while she surveyed the improvement, and the corner of her mouth turned up in a satisfied grin. “Not too shabby, Fletcher.”
“I’d live here.”
Sadey snorted. “Please. You’d live in a rat hole and make it work for you.”
“Hey, a rat hole is a home, too.”
There was no comparison between the shack that had barely stood upright on my property three weeks ago and this house.
It was no longer one and a half stories of moldy dilapidation.
It was one and half stories of charming, invulnerable, homey abode.
The front porch railings were whitewashed to match the house’s siding, and the window frames were painted in the dark blue of the shutters.
We had even given the front door a fresh coat.
By tomorrow evening, the outside would be completely painted and finished.
A tension that had settled directly into the middle of my back eased at the thought.
Sadey interrupted the serenity. “You coming to the Founder’s Parade?”
“Why does everyone keep asking me that? I don’t think anyone would appreciate me ruining their fun.”
“I know someone who wouldn’t mind you being there,” Sadey said softly with her eyebrows arched.
“Who?”
“All I’m saying is Caleb is going to be in one of the floats. Well, not really a float. My brothers are riding with my dad in one of his fancy old cars.”
I scrunched up my nose. “Your family has its own float?”
“All of the founding ancestors do. The Smiths, the Kleinfelds. The Hudsons have no living relations, but the Whitakers, Samsons, and McCreedys are still holding strong.”
“Hmph,” I said amusedly. “I guess my invitation got lost in the mail.”
“Oh, my gosh. I totally forgot about the Fletchers. Whoa,” she breathed. “That’s so messed up.”
I shrugged. I couldn’t blame the town for excluding my family. Who wanted a float full of crazy people to ruin their parade?
“That settles it then. You are a founding ancestor. You should at least attend the parade.”
I sighed in resignation. “Opal did invite me to sit on the second floor balcony of the pie shop. She said I could invite a friend.”
“Fantastic. It’ll be the perfect perch to spy on cute boys.”
My boy-crazy friend and boss would be much more entertaining than any old parade. I looped an arm around her neck and leaned against her shoulder. “Come on into the shop before the parade. We’re locking the doors at five till. I’ll buy you a sandwich, and we can eat lunch while we watch.”
****
Caleb
The hunger gnawed at me like a buzzard on a bone. Pain from my healing injuries was a constant, buzzing background noise, but after the first six hours of straining work, the ache of hunger overpowered it. I needed to eat a lot more now that I’d been changed.
The boys were taking me to lunch for my glad-you-didn’t-die celebration. My boss had even given us an extra half hour so we could grab our grub in town. Unheard of before now, as a rig always kept rigorous hours, but hey, who was I to complain?
I popped a couple of pain meds into my mouth and downed them with a bottled water. The empty plastic container gave under the weight of my crushing hand. I didn’t have to squish it to oblivion, but for some reason it made me feel better.
“Where do you want to eat?” Reyes asked.
“Oh, it’s my choice, is it?” I pretended to think long and hard, but I already knew my answer. “I feel like trying somewhere new.”
The boys and I piled into my truck and headed into town.
There were six of us, which meant six opinions on what kind of music we should blare through the speakers.
Evan flopped through the back window and stood up in the bed as we drove through town, legs splayed and holding on for dear life to the sides of the cab.
He whistled at any girl on two legs. A part of me wanted to jerk the truck to a stop and flip him over the hood, but with him being my brother and all, I thought it a little too harsh a punishment for idiocy.
I hadn’t been inside of the Main Street Pie & Candy Co.
, and I lifted my gaze to the diners relaxing on the second floor while they enjoyed their meal.
If I could ignore the eye-maiming color of the outside, the place looked nice enough.
Evan jumped out of the back of the truck and landed with a thud right in front of me.
“I know why Caleb picked this place,” he said, loud enough for the boys to hear. “The waitress in here is a hot little piece of ass.”
My blunt fingernails pressed into the skin of my palms as I imagined what it would feel like to put my knuckles through his teeth. If Evan knew anything at all, it was how to pick at a festering wound. And he did it for enjoyment.
Ignoring the guys and their obnoxious catcalls, I stepped around Evan. It was pointless to engage my brother. Years of arguing with him had taught me that.
I scanned the room for Mira as soon as we stepped inside and spotted her behind the counter. She had her hair pulled back. She wore a flour-covered apron and had an orange pencil tucked behind her ear. She looked thoughtful and polite and smiled shyly at old man Tucker as he put in his order.
“It’s your party, little brother.” Evan grinned at me with a predatory smile. “Why don’t you and the boys take a load off, and I’ll order us lunch. On me.”
The disappointment that soaked my resignation was as uncontrollable as my heartbeat.
He knew he’d taken my chance to talk to Mira away, and the dumbass all but skipped to the register as the others shouted their orders.
Evan leaned against the counter, dripping with ego, and Mira’s face fell when she saw it was him.
I wished I could protect her from whatever utterly stupid thing Evan had said to draw her eyebrows down in anger.
“Hey, man. Have you heard anything we’ve been talking about?” Reyes asked.
I tore my eyes away from Mira and tried to pretend I hadn’t just spaced on every single word that had been said since we walked through the door.
“Dude, there’s Becca. Better run, McCreedy,” Jeff snorted. “She’ll have you married by nightfall.”
I saw the recognition light up Becca’s face as she saw us through the window, and I stifled a groan. It was too late to hide.
Becca came in and leaned into the chair behind me. “Can I talk to you?”
The boys made kissing sounds, but I ignored them. Instead, I nodded to Becca. I couldn’t be rude to the girl in front of everyone. The chair made a scuffling sound as I pushed it back, and I caught the surprised look on Mira’s face as I headed with Becca to the hallway for the bathroom.
“I was wondering if you would want to sit with me at the Founder’s Parade?” she asked, getting straight to the meat of it.
Relief flooded me. I had a legitimate excuse not to subject myself to that uncomfortable hour. “Sorry, but I’m in the parade. I have to get back to the guys. We have a short lunch.”
She grabbed my hand. “Please tell me you aren’t here for her.” Her whisper was pleading, and it grated on my last nerve. “I’ve been the only one to like you through all of your problems. I came to your mother’s funeral, not her. I still care about you, even after that bear ruined you.”
“Ruined me?” Sure, I felt ruined most days, but I never thought it was a deal-breaker for friends.
Family. Girls. Apparently, I owed people who accepted me despite my marred skin.
“Do my scars bother you that much?” I unbuttoned the top button of my old flannel work shirt, and when she looked around to make sure no one saw the red mark I had exposed, I undid another.
And another. Her growing discomfort amused me.
“That’s quite enough,” she snapped as the last button was undone. “You’re going to embarrass both of us.”
She grabbed the flailing pieces of shirt and tried unsuccessfully to put them back together. I didn’t help. I couldn’t take my eyes away from her shame-filled blush at how torn and ragged my chest was.
“Excuse me,” Mira said as she inched around us. “I just have to get to the bathroom.” Her voice shook, and I glanced down to see what Becca and I must have looked like to her.
“Mira, wait,” I rushed out, prying Becca’s hands away from my clothing.
“You don’t have to explain anything to me. It’s none of my business,” she clipped out softly before she disappeared into the restroom.