Chapter One – 20-20 #2
“I’m not really supposed to go inside with strangers,” the kid said.
But it didn’t sound like he was afraid or uncertain anymore.
It actually sounded like he thought it was a challenge.
To his dad? To the rules? I wasn’t sure, but I understood the need to rebel almost as much as I understood the alarm that had shot through him at the idea of his dad’s anger.
I opened the door wider, reining in my fury at his father and keeping my voice as emotionless as possible. “Let me get a broom.”
When I returned from the tiny laundry room near the back porch, the boy had stepped over the thrift shop welcome mat and into the house.
He assessed my nearly empty living room with the eye of someone much older than him.
The critical, knowing look in his eyes said he’d seen and heard and felt far more than he should have at his age.
He took the broom and dustpan from me. “I can sweep it up. I can do whatever you need. I swear. Dad forces me to work with him in his woodshop, so I’m decent with my hands.
I mean, I know this glass isn’t fixable,” he rambled as he swept, “but I can do lots of other things to help out. I will. I promise. I’m good for it. ”
I reached out to gently touch his arm, and he jumped. Skittish and afraid. The rage inside me boiled, nearly spilling over, and it took considerable effort to keep any of it from showing, even with my years of practice at doing just that.
“Why don’t we start with you telling me your name?”
His eyes widened again. “Oh…yeah. I guess I just expected you knew. Everyone in this dam—dang town seems to know who I am.”
I was pretty sure I had heard it, seeing as everyone in town had been talking about him and his dad, but I couldn’t recall it.
The focus of all those conversations hadn’t been on the kid.
At first, it had been on the senior Sheriff Wylee who’d had a heart attack in June, and then it had shifted to surprise at the famous Cooper Wylee leaving his LAPD job to accept the temporary sheriff’s position after his dad had resigned.
I stuck out my hand. “I’m Andie.”
A pink tint swept over the boy’s cheeks. He switched the broom to his other hand and shook mine. “Luca. Luca Wylee.”
His voice cracked in that way boys’ voices do as they grow.
“Well, Luca Wylee, why don’t you finish sweeping and then come on back and grab a soda while we figure out what to do from here?”
I left him to it, stalked into the kitchen, and tried to put a lid on the fury rolling through me.
If I showed my anger to Luca, he’d think it was at him, and he’d withdraw when I really needed him to open up.
I needed him to tell me the truth so I could pin the asshole to the wall for hurting his son.
I had two Mountain Dews and the last of my Oreos on the counter when he came into the kitchen with a full dustpan. I pointed to the garbage can in the tiny walk-in pantry, and he dumped the glass in it before setting the pan and the broom down.
“I shook the rug out too,” he said. “I really am sorry, Miss Andie.”
“Just Andie.”
I offered him a soda. He looked down at his scuffed sneakers, then back up, and gave me a small smile. It lifted higher on one side of his mouth. Just like his dad’s smile. Not that I’d seen Cooper Wylee smile often—only once, really.
“Thanks,” the teen said.
When he took it, I noticed his hands weren’t shaking anymore, and I hoped it meant he’d relaxed enough to talk. Although, it was doubtful he would tell me anything really important during our first conversation. I’d have to keep the dialogue going. Build trust.
I nearly snorted. Trust wasn’t something I was good with, but I had to try.
I sat down on one of the two barstools I’d bought at a yard sale.
Luca joined me, and I pushed the Oreo bag at him.
He smiled again. “Man…taking cookies from a stranger. Isn’t that exactly what they tell kids not to do?”
He laughed at his joke.
“I swear I’m not going to poison you or kidnap you,” I said with a smile as I crossed my heart.
“Yeah, but that’s just what someone who was going to do any of that shit would say.”
I huffed out a little laugh, both at his response and his penchant for swearing. “Probably.”
He ate a cookie and took a few sips of the soda, while he scanned the nearly empty kitchen with the same knowing eye that he’d assessed my living room.
“You’ve been living here a while, haven’t you?”
“Bought the house in February, but I’ve been in Swift Rivers for eight years, why?”
“It’s just… Your house is pretty empty.”
It was. I took a deep, slow breath and then let it out. “Well, I was sort of starting over when I moved here, and I’d been living in the staff quarters at Harrington Ranch until I bought the house, so I didn’t really have anything of my own.”
The boy’s face darkened. “Starting over is bullshit.”
“It can be. Or it can be a gift.”
He rubbed his cheek, careful of his bruised eye.
“Are you afraid of telling your dad about the window because of that?” I asked with a pointed look at his face, keeping my tone as calm as I could.
His fingers stilled. His gaze turned thoughtful. “You think Dad did this?”
I didn’t answer, waited to see if he’d offer me the truth.
“What would you do if he did?” he asked. “Call social services? Get me sent back to my mom?”
“Do you want to be sent back to your mom?”
His shoulders slumped, and he looked down at the cookie as he spun it apart to reveal the cream inside. “I miss my friends. My coach. The park.”
My heart just about burst at the sorrow in his voice. The desolation.
It sent me sailing right back to all the moments I’d felt just like that. Isolated. Hopeless.
This kid, who could hardly be more than twelve or thirteen, didn’t deserve to feel any of that.
He should feel safe and happy and carefree.
He should be full of so much hope that he believed he could accomplish anything and everything.
He should not be trembling in fear at the idea of telling his father about one mistake.
My anger crept right back just as my doorbell rang. The chime was followed immediately by a pounding that clearly demanded an answer. And maybe if I hadn’t had rage racing through my blood, my own fear might have resurfaced.
Instead, I saw the terror on Luca’s face, and it fueled me even more.
I stormed to the door and yanked it open, fuming with disbelief at the absolute calm on the face of the most handsome man I’d ever seen in my life.