20. Lara
Rocking slowly back and forth, I dangle my feet off the porch and stare at the stars. Everything”s calm… a perfect night for aliens to abduct people.
Grinning, I lean on my forearms and close my eyes, listening to crickets chirp. To anyone else, the sound would be melodic. To me, it reminds me how alone I am.
If Mother were here, I”d most likely be listening to her and Papa arguing about something or the other or hear the clink of her ice cubes in her cocktail as she sips between rants.
I hated them fighting, and it had become frequent after Amanda passed.
By the end, it was almost every night.
About a week ago, my mother packed a bag and called her brother—Uncle Gary.
He took her to the airport without her looking back. Well—she might”ve. But I didn”t stay to watch that bullshit.
She left my dad and me. Went to France to be with her parents.
Now, there”s silence here. Me on this porch. Papa in front of the TV, watching some mindless sports game or the news.
I can”t sit with him like that, and it”s getting worse around here with Mother gone. Papa and I barely say a word to one another. Dinner is long and awkward before we both go off and do our own thing.
My thing is going to the front porch and staring at the stars—just a mindless mess.
What”s there to do anyway?
There”s just cold darkness.
I”m trapped here…
I do have Coco, though. I could sneak her out. It isn”t like Papa is going to check on me. He”ll fall asleep in the recliner like every night and won”t know I”m gone.
I creep across the porch, avoiding the wooden boards that creak the loudest, and head down the steps. As I walk past the living room window, I see my father in his recliner, the blue light from the TV screen reflecting around the room.
I think about going inside and spending time with him for a split second. But it”s just going to be like talking to a brick wall… I”m better off going for a ride. Maybe to the Caldwells” place. They”re the nearest thing around.
The gravel in the driveway crunches under my boots as I approach the barn. I glance back at the house to ensure there”s no movement from the living room, then slip inside the barn.
”Hey, girl.” I walk to Coco”s stall, holding her saddle and bridle. ”Up for a midnight ride?”
Coco snorts in response, and I take that as a yes.
I get her tacked and head to the other end of the barn, away from the house, and take one look back to make sure my father doesn”t see before galloping into the night.
The air is cold through the pastures lit only by moonlight.
I set my sights on the Caldwells and head north.
About twenty minutes later, lights from the Caldwell”s ranch come into view. It”s late, so there are not many of them, and The Big House is dark for the most part.
I halt Coco next to an oak tree by the back of the house and step down. Coco starts munching on some dead grass, and I tether her and grab a fallen branch from the ground.
Looking at the second floor, I count the windows from one side to the fifth. That”s Carter”s bedroom.
I stand under it and toss the branch softly. It hits the side of the house and comes back down.
Shit.I don”t want to break a window. I just want his attention.
I wait a few seconds, then let out a huff and pick up another branch. This one is thicker and shorter. He”s sure to hear it this time. I take my aim and throw. The branch hits the screen, knocking it out of its frame.
I wince as it falls to the ground right in front of me, and I duck behind the tree just in case that gets anyone”s attention other than Carter”s.
”What the hell”s going on?” Carter whispers loudly, raising the window. ”Who”s out here?”
I look around the tree. ”It”s me,” I whisper, stepping into view. ”What”re you doing?”
”What”d you think I”m doing?” he whispers back.
”Beats me.” I shrug. ”Let”s have some fun!”
He leans against the window frame. ”It”s the middle of the night?”
”Just get Dylan… and a bottle of your dad”s whiskey. Let”s go look for aliens.”
”Are you insane?”
”Just come on,” I whisper up at him. ”And hurry up!”
With a sigh, Carter disappears from the window and turns on the light in his room. He moves around for a minute, and then the light goes out.
Good. He”s doing what I asked. Hope he remembers the whiskey!
I walk Coco to the barn, glancing around to make sure no one”s there. Thankfully, it doesn”t look like anyone”s patrolling the area.
”Hey?”
Turning, I see Carter and Dylan heading toward me. I smile when I see Dylan carrying a large whiskey bottle.
”You made it.” I grab the bottle from him.
”Not here,” Dylan whispers, his breath steaming in the night. ”Let”s go into the barn.”
”I thought we were going to look for aliens?” Carter says.
I pull the door open and lead Coco inside. ”Maybe there”s aliens in the barn.”
”Let me take her,” Dylan says, taking the reins from my hand. He walks to an empty stall, leads Coco inside, and starts caring for her.
”Thanks,” I call to him, walking to the row of tractors at the far end of the barn. I lean against one of the large tires and take a swig from the whiskey.
”Don”t hog that,” Carter says, pulling it out of my hand with a grin. ”Sharing is caring.” He takes a drink just as Dylan joins us.
We grab a couple of old milk crates, turn them upside down, and sit.
”You think your dad”s going to notice an entire bottle of whiskey gone?” I grab it from Dylan and take a long sip.
Carter chuckles. ”He probably will.”
”I”ll see if my mother left any alcohol and share next time,” I tell them, staring at the bottle. ”She”s gone now, though.”
”What do you mean?” Dylan asks.
I take another swig and hand the bottle to Carter. ”I guess you two don”t know. She left my dad and me. She went back to Paris.”
Dylan puts a hand on my shoulder. ”Hey, I”m really sorry.”
I smile at him briefly, then take the bottle from Carter, and Dylan”s hand falls off my shoulder.
”There”s nothing to be done about it.” I pick at the label on the bottle. ”My dad won”t talk about it. That”s why I had to get out of there. I was going crazy.”
”So you came over looking for aliens?” Carter asks, lightening the mood.
Dylan gives me a strange look.
”It”s always nights like these when people see them.” I nod at Dylan and take another drink. ”When it”s all quiet and peaceful… perfect night for an alien abduction.”
”I”d rather not see that,” Dylan says.
Carter takes the bottle from me. ”Yeah… Dylan doesn”t want to get probed.”
I can”t help but laugh. ”I don”t want that, either.”
”You sure about that?” Dylan smiles mischievously and winks at me.
Rolling my eyes, I push him off his milk crate, then he gets up and rubs his arm where I touched him.
”That doesn”t hurt.” I grab the bottle back from Carter. ”Hey, we should go to the far pastures.” I look at the big tire we”re sitting beside. ”Let”s take the tractor out. I”ll drive.”
Dylan laughs. ”You can”t drive one of those.”
”You want to make a bet?” I kick my milk crate out of the way and climb into the seat. I reach under the steering wheel and touch the little metal key. Smiling, I prime and turn it. The engine revs up.
”Lara.” Dylan jumps up next to me.
”She doesn”t need your help.” Carter jumps on the other side of me. ”Let”s go.”
I”m buzzed from the whiskey, but I manage to get the tractor rolling, and we head out of the barn and into the pastures.
Dylan slides beside me. ”Let me take over.”
”No!”
But he pulls me onto his lap, taking over. ”You can steer,” he whispers in my ear. ”I”ll do the rest.”
I try to glance back at him. ”Bossy.”
”You like it,” Dylan whispers and slips one of his hands between my thighs.
Carter glances at the house behind us. ”I hope we weren”t too loud.”
”No one”s after us.” I giggle. ”Yet.”
The rough movements from the tractor have me bouncing on Dylan”s lap, and I can”t help but get turned on. And the way he has his arm wrapped around my thigh, holding me in place on top of him, I”m getting wet as the rhythmic movements of the tractor have me grinding against him.
I don”t dare turn and look at him. If I do… I”ll wrap my legs around him right now and?—
”Here”s good,” Carter says, breaking me out of my intoxicated, aroused madness.
Dylan stops the tractor and turns it off. I stand, hoping that neither of them notice how flushed I am.
”Where”d the whiskey go?” I ask, climbing down, then lose my footing and slide.
Dylan grabs my belt and waistline of my jeans and hauls me upward before I get hurt. We”re close, and his scent is intoxicating—leather and soap—as he leans over me. Then he”s putting me on my feet and stepping to the side of me.
”Thanks,” I breathe.
”Come on, you two,” Carter says. ”Aliens are this way.”
Chuckling, I catch up to him. He”s about ten steps ahead, and Dylan comes up behind me. We stop at the top of the hill and look down at the valley below. Then I plop onto the cold ground between the two guys and grab the whiskey from Carter”s hand.
”Be careful with that,” Dylan says, cocking his head and eyeing me. ”Don”t go hard.”
”Okay, Dad,” I mock. ”You think I don”t know how to handle my liquor?”
He puts his hands up in defense. ”Didn”t mean to touch a nerve.”
I hand the whiskey to him. ”You need it more than me.”
He takes the bottle. ”We”ve put a dent in this already. I hope it”s not one of Uncle Malcolm”s favorites.”
”We”ll replace it,” Carter says. ”Hey, isn”t there a portable radio in the tractor?”
Dylan scrambles up. ”I”ll fetch it.”
I lie back and gaze at the stars, waiting for Dylan to return. ”They”re pretty, aren”t they?”
Carter grabs the whiskey from where Dylan left it by my side.
”The stars.” I point to the sky. ”Look up.”
Carter tilts his head back. ”Yeah.” He props himself on his elbows. ”They are.”
Dylan returns, sits on my other side, and finds a Country station.
”Lay down,” I tell him, yanking his arm too hard in my drunken state. He falls back and hits the ground.
”You”re pretty rough tonight.”
I pat his arm and hold onto him. ”You”ll be just fine.”
”You see any yet?” Carter asks, looking at the sky.
I look up. ”Flying saucers?”
”I thought you were joking about that.” Dylan sighs. ”I thought we were going to do something fun out here.”
I scrunch my nose at him. ”And what should we do that”s fun?”
”Let”s take the tractor down the hill on the other side,” he says.
Carter stares at his cousin.
Dylan shrugs. ”You too chicken?”
”Carter might be. But I”m not.” I spring to my feet and run to the tractor with Carter and Dylan on my heels.
Dylan grabs my arm. ”I”m driving.”
”You drive too slow.” I attempt to climb, but he”s holding me down.
”Sit on my lap again,” he whispers in my ear, his breath hot on my skin.
I swat his arm. ”Just help me up.”
”Hey, what”s that?” Carter asks, setting the whiskey on the tractor tire. ”You hear something?”
Dylan lets go of me. ”Like what?”
Carter takes a step away from the tractor. ”Like… a truck.”
Suddenly, headlights appear, coming through the pasture toward us. I step on the tire to get a better look.
”See anything?” Dylan asks.
My vision is blurry, and I squint to see the vehicle barreling through the field.
Whoa!
Sure enough, it”s a truck.