21. Dalton #2
I was seeing a whole other side of Jake. He was talking to Xander like he dealt with troubled kids all the time. But then, he’d grown up with them. Had been categorized as one himself, so of course he knew how to approach them.
So instead of butting in and telling Jake in no uncertain terms that he was coddling the young man, I needed to get off my high horse and let this play out the way Jake knew it had to.
“So, Xander,” Jake said. “Can you tell me what happened?”
A cuff of that hooded sweatshirt went to Xander’s mouth, and I realized he was chewing on his fingernails. A habit I’d gotten rid of years ago, but I did know what that impulse felt like.
Xander still didn’t reply, but now he was looking at Jake with dark eyes, like he wanted to give an honest answer, only he didn’t know how.
The afternoon was hot and still. The sheriff was starting to look impatient. In another half minute the whole thing was going to get a lot more problematic.
“Xander,” Jake said. Still quiet. Unassuming. But totally in charge of the conversation. “You wanted to prove yourself to the other guys. Bet you got your driver’s license and everything. They told you about Dairy Queen. And you wanted to show them what you could do. Right?”
Xander had one hand covering his mouth, his eyes bright spots in the shadow of his hoodie.
“Thing about Daybreak—that’s my truck’s name—she doesn’t take left turns as well as she used to.
If you’d asked me, I would have driven you into town and told you all about it.
I like to brag about Daybreak because she’s doing pretty good for her age.
And I would have let you drive her back to the ranch, with me in the passenger seat, so you could see how much of a sweetheart she is. But that didn’t happen, did it.”
Xander shook his head and wiped the cuff of his hoodie across his face, and I realized he was crying.
Jake had gotten through to him. Had used patience and kindness to create a bond with the boy who’d damaged the truck Jake cared so much about. Never once did he raise his voice or act aggressively.
I’d never seen anything like it. I was still pissed on Jake’s behalf, of course, but the way I’d wanted to handle the situation had been very, very wrong.
“Would you like to go back to the ranch now and start again?” When Xander nodded, Jake stood up. He touched Xander’s shoulder briefly before turning to the sheriff.
“Want me to call a tow truck, son?” the sheriff asked.
“Yes, please,” Jake said. “We’ll take the boys back with us. No ticket. No written warning. I think they’ve had enough for today.”
“Sounds good,” the sheriff said. “I’ll have the shop call you.”
“Thank you.”
Jake’s words echoed in my ears. That’s what he had said to my boss—my former boss—only that morning.
That’s enough out of you. Like he knew when enough was too much.
And here, now, he knew Xander was at his limit.
The kid was only eighteen, after all. And in Jake’s mind, he deserved special handling.
“Let’s go,” Jake said.
“Do you want to stay until the tow truck comes?” I asked.
“Sheriff’s got it,” Jake said. “And Ezra over at Philly Motors knows Daybreak. They’ll bring the flatbed for her, on account of her age. It’ll be fine.”
I had to trust him with this. Daybreak was his, after all.
Still, I was pissed as we got into my car, the boys in the back and Jake next to me in front. Like he had been before, when we’d rescued him from the clutches of his father and driven him to safety.
Xander wasn’t saying anything. I thought he should have been more grateful and behaved better, maybe apologized for all the trouble he’d caused, but then, I’d never had the life he did.
I drove us back to the ranch, where Lucas and Beau were there to meet us and to take Xander and Dillon. I was glad the young men were off our hands so I could have Jake to myself. So I could treat him right. But first, I selfishly wanted some answers.
“What the hell, Jake,” I said, spreading my arms out to let him know how confused I was. “He stole your truck. He stole Daybreak.”
“He did.” We were near Jake’s bunkhouse, so he stopped in its shade and let me come to him. Patient. Waiting. “But nobody was hurt. There’s no reason to skin him alive.”
I went still. Jake was right, of course. But underneath it all, he had to be upset. And here he was, comforting me. When I should be taking care of him.
“You’re right.” I said, keeping my tone level, yanking back on my anger at Xander to something more like irritation.
All too easily, I could imagine how often someone had skinned Jake alive for simply being a kid, doing what kids do. Which was to make bad decisions and get into trouble.
Many times. That’s how many. Many, many times, Jake had taken the brunt of someone’s anger and frustration. Even if he didn’t deserve it. But instead of becoming bitter, he’d turned it around and used what he’d experienced to do the right thing with other people. To do right by Xander.
“He reminds you of yourself, doesn’t he,” I said. It wasn’t a question. I could already see in his face that it was true.
I could see right into his eyes just then. Beyond the cut-glass sharpness. Beyond the blue-and-green colors. Beyond the—I wouldn’t call it a facade. More like a mask. A protective shield to keep others at bay. Even me.
“You’re him,” I said. “Jesus Christ.”
I thought about Xander’s bruises. His silence. His watchfulness. And I thought about Jake at that age, going from home to home because, somehow, he was too wild to tame.
But Jake hadn’t needed taming. No, he needed what he’d so seldom, if ever, gotten in his early years: someone to protect him. From the blows. The bruises. The neglect. The system had given him a category, probably like Xander’s father had given his son. Too wild to deal with.
This was too much. I didn’t want to think about all that abuse.
To picture Jake standing on a sidewalk, his hands gripping a backpack that didn’t really have anything in it, waiting for rescue.
For someone to pick him up, when he had no other option but to accept what the system was giving him, because he wasn’t of age.
He was of age now, and he hadn’t flinched from the difficult situation that Xander had created for himself. No, he’d walked right into it with eyes wide open.
His encounter with Xander must have brought it all back and then some. I didn’t want to nag him about it anymore, not when he needed a safe place. Peace and quiet. And a reminder, a good one, that he never had to go back to that life.
“Hey.” I moved into the shadows to be near him. Reached to clasp his forearm. Bent my head to his shoulder for a second before looking up at him. “Let’s call over to the garage in a little bit to make sure everything is okay.”
He nodded, never taking his eyes off me.
“But for now, how about we have a cool shower?” I suggested. “Then, after, we can mosey up to the dining hall for something to eat.”
“Did you just use the word mosey?” He raised his eyebrows.
He was making a joke, but I couldn’t let on that I knew it. I needed to answer in kind so the joke would land.
“The word is appropriate to the situation,” I said in the tone of a much-bothered spinster. “Though if we shilly-shally in the shower too long, dinner might be over, and we’ll have to drive into town. Whereupon we can check on Daybreak and get a burger or something.”
“The saloon has triple cheeseburgers.” Jake reached out to push hair from my forehead. “And I owe you that drink.”
“You do,” I said. “Maybe two drinks.” By this time I could have downed a gallon of gin and tonic and not felt it.
“Be glad to.” He kissed me on the tip of my nose. “Very glad to.”