The Way Home (Chasing #3) (5 page)

“Cecil, behave,” Miley cautioned, scolding him as if he were a small child. It was obvious she was comfortable with him.

I didn’t like the way he was looking at me or at her for that matter. The possessive gleam in his eyes set my nerves on edge. My jaw tightened. My hand clenched at my side forming a fist I longed to slam into his face. Hell, for all I knew, he could be the kid’s father. Miley and Sierra weren’t mine, but The Eight Ball was, and you can damn well guarantee I planned on setting this asshole straight starting now.

“I’m your boss,” I informed him, taking note of the sudden slight flush of red that traveled quickly up his thick neck and settled on his cheeks. The bastard didn’t open his mouth to apologize. Anyway, if he had, I’d probably happily have closed it for him. It didn’t matter how big or bad he thought he was I’d taken down bigger and, by far, worse than him.

The bigger they are, the harder they fall.

“Well, we’re out of here,” Miley suddenly announced, obviously noting the tension in the room. Hell, it was so fucking thick, you could cut it with a knife. “He’s an old friend.” I heard her whisper. Cecil’s eyes met mine over the top of her head as he handed Sierra to Miley
.

That fucker was still glaring at me.

She glanced over her shoulder, her eyes landing on me. “I’ll be back in a few minutes,” she said, and from the tone of her voice it seemed to me as if she were asking for my permission.

Hell, I didn’t care. She had to take the kid to daycare. I wasn’t that big of an asshole.

“Sure,” I muttered, and when a beautiful smile curved her lips, I couldn’t look away.
Fucking mesmerized.
With Sierra perched on the slope of her curvy hip, her long ponytail swayed from side to side as I watched her walk away
.

That ass made my mouth water.

“Don’t even think about it.” I heard Cecil growl.

“What?” I snapped, glaring back at him.
Fucking forgot all about him
. He smirked, his eyes narrowed.

“You know what.” He glared at me. And damn, he was right. I did know, but I wasn’t going to admit it, especially not to him. He could go fuck himself. So what if he’d caught me checking her out. There was no denying that Miley’s backside was just as perfect as the front.

“Don’t you have work to do?” I reminded him, and he shot me an evil glare and headed for the back.

This was the perfect beginning to an already shitty morning.

CALL ME A
coward, but I’d left before Miley had the chance to return. I had to get out of there. The sudden overwhelming need to be near her left me feeling slightly uneasy. I didn’t want or welcome those kind of emotions. The ones that kept you twisted up inside and messed with your mind. The thought of loving or caring about anyone as much as I did Natalie… well, it scared the ever loving shit out of me. I needed to focus my energy elsewhere, definitely not on a woman with baggage.

There was shit to be done, and I wouldn’t get it finished sitting on my ass at the pool hall mooning over my ex-best friend’s little sister. That damn house wouldn’t fix itself. Hell, I’d even forgotten about Hank who was probably already floating around downstairs in a sea of piss. My thoughts were dark and bleak. Here lately, I was one moody motherfucker… more so than usual.

Before I’d left The Eight Ball, an inspection of the rest of the building and the premises had been completed. I’d discovered that one of the urinals in the men’s restroom needed to be replaced. That fucker, Cecil, had gone on to explain while wearing a grin how he’d broken up a fight a few months back between two drunks and it had turned a little ugly. I was about to turn a little ugly if he didn’t get that damn smirk off his face. This, too, was just one more frigging thing to add to the long list of shit that I needed to get done. At six this evening, I planned on returning to meet the rest of the staff and take care of the busted pisser. The verdict was still out whether I liked that big son of a bitch Cecil or not. I was leaning toward not.

In the years I’d been away, it appeared Crawley remained the same. It was just like Mayberry, that little town in that old black and white T.V. show, but slightly larger. It still had that small town feel. Not much had changed. Time had seemed to stop in Crawley, and life moved at a snail’s pace.

When I pulled into the parking lot at Stanton Hardware, to my surprise, there was a closed sign hanging on the front door. It was only a little after ten, and silently I wondered if anyone ever got in hurry in this godforsaken town. All of the sudden, a tan pickup pulled up alongside of me. Homer Stanton, owner of Stanton Hardware, climbed out of the truck. He glanced my way then absently threw up his hand in greeting. A smile creased his wrinkled face, drawing my attention to just how much he’d aged over the last few years.

His hair was now a snowy white. His stature more stooped than I remembered. During high school, I’d worked part time at Stanton’s to save a little money and to help Gran out with expenses since raising a kid wasn’t cheap. It had been just the two of us for the longest time until she had passed away. Lost in thought, my eyes drifted to the building where I’d spent many an hour inside bullshitting with Homer. I had nothing but respect for the old man.

A pecking sound drew my attention to the passenger side window where Homer stood staring back at me. He motioned for me to roll down the window. “Long time no see, son,” he said, his curious blue eyes regarding me intently. “Never thought you’d be back in this neck of the woods again. Heard you’d bought The Eight Ball from Mavis and your granny’s old house back, too. Should have never sold it to begin with.”

My jaw clenched. There was no beating around the bush with Homer. He called it like he saw it; blunt but honest. He was right though. I should have never sold the old homestead, but it was mine once again and I didn’t need the constant reminders from town folk… not even from Homer.

“How have you been?” I asked, switching the subject as I regarded the old man who’d given me a chance by hiring me when no one else would; not everyone wanted to hire the town druggie’s son.

He scratched his head, blue eyes twinkling back at me. “Arthritis been acting up a bit. The old woman’s still giving me hell. Not much has changed since you left,” he said with an endearing smile.

Homer and Midge had been married for forty plus years. My sympathies laid with Midge. She was a sweetheart. I’d give Homer hell too if I had to put up with his ass for that long. The woman deserved a medal.

“You coming in, or you just going to sit in that fancy truck of yours outside of my store all day long?”

So, he’d noticed my truck. There wasn’t any doubt in my mind that the old man was coveting her. She was a beauty. “You got any urinals?” I asked, and he stared at me a moment then nodded his head.

“Yeah, I reckon,” he said matter of fact. “In case you hadn’t noticed, this is a hardware store for Pete’s sake. Come on inside, son,” he ordered, and walked past the truck without giving me a second glance.

It was good to find Homer still full of his usual piss and vinegar. Some things never changed. Homer was still the same old Homer. It was just another day in Crawley, and business as usual at Stanton’s.

In some ways, there was comfort in being back among the familiar, but there was a downside too… here, everyone knew me; knew my story including the lies that Myra Hayes had spread about me. Those lies along with my guilt had haunted me for the last eight years.

As soon as I stepped inside the store, Homer started in on me with the twenty questions. After about twenty minutes of his badgering, I’d finally had my fill. “Enough, Homer.” I laid my money down on the counter thinking to myself that he would have made an excellent drill sergeant. I was surprised Midge hadn’t smothered him in his sleep by now.

From across the counter, he stared back at me then finally nodded in defeat. The pinched expression on his face let me know he wasn’t pleased, but I didn’t care. I didn’t want to answer any more of his questions. I’d tried to be as vague as possible with my answers.

Damn, he was as nosey as a woman
.

“I’ll help you out,” he said, and I took my receipt from him. He walked out from behind the counter. His gait was slow. There was an instant of regret, but I shrugged it aside. I wasn’t going to feel guilty about shutting him down. He needed to mind his own business and not have it all stuck up in mine.

“If you can get the door, I’d appreciate it,” I said eyeing him. I wouldn’t put it past him to start questioning me again.

Instead, Homer grabbed my bag of hardware from the counter and moved past me. Carrying the urinal, I followed him to the door and then outside. He even lowered the truck’s tailgate for me. It was impossible not to feel the weight of his stare, and when I turned to take my bag from him, his eyes met mine. There in his gaze, it was as if he were searching for something, and the curiosity in those keen eyes of his made me downright uncomfortable. I had no secrets, especially not here in Crawley. He handed me the bag, appearing solemn.

“Thanks, Homer,” I mumbled past the sudden lump in my throat. Regardless of his nosiness, I cared about the old man. “You take care of yourself. I’ll see you around.”

At that moment, there was nothing I wanted more than to get back to my gran’s old house atop Hawk Mountain. It had become my sanctuary. After Natalie’s accident, most of the town’s folk had turned their back on me, and I held Myra Hayes accountable for their desertion.

“No one blames you for that girl’s death,” Homer said and I gritted my teeth while silently counting to ten.
How in the hell did he do that?
“It wasn’t your fault, no matter what that harpy, Myra, said. Not everyone believed her, and those who did… well, they were damn fools. If you asked me, she needed someone besides herself to blame for her own shortcomings.”

Homer’s words did next to nothing at easing the knife permanently lodged in my heart. The reminder and the guilt were a daily penance I paid for being alive when Natalie was dead. The blade only twisted in deeper. In my own mind, regardless of who was at fault, I was as guilty as Myra Hayes claimed. The loss of Natalie and our child combined with the majority of the townsfolk hating me had almost destroyed me. It would be a cold day in hell before I gave those fuckers any more news to gossip about. Homer was a good man, but he couldn’t keep his mouth shut worth shit. I could tell he wanted to talk, but it wasn’t happening.

“I’ll see you around,” I said and left Homer staring after me as I walked around the truck and climbed inside.

I didn’t need anyone’s pity, especially not his. I didn’t look back at him as I drove the truck down Main Street, now even more determined than ever to stay away from town. It was toxic, drudging up old memories of the life I’d had before. Myra Hayes could burn in hell for all I cared.

The rest of my senior year I’d been treated like a pariah in high school. The friends I’d thought I’d known had distanced themselves from me. Well, all except for Matt, and I’d pushed him away. It was for his own good. Many agreed with Myra and claimed it was my fault. Rumors had floated around school like wildfire; how I’d broken up with Natalie on her birthday. Some had claimed she’d committed suicide and I was to blame. None of that shit was true.

Whatever seed Myra Hayes had planted, it had taken root and sprung to a vicious life all on its own. They’d held me accountable as if they were appointed judge and jury, believing in their ignorance and that it gave them the right.
Who were they to judge me?
Old scars were there for a reason. They served as a reminder to never be that stupid again. I didn’t trust anyone… not anymore.

People turned on you, especially when their own morals were called into question, when their own guilt was so heavy they couldn’t bear the weight of the burden. Myra Hayes was well liked in the town of Crawley. Some considered her a saint, and I’d been the one left to reap the bounty of her lies and the angry accusations she’d shared with anyone who would bother to listen.

The day of Natalie’s funeral, I’d been turned away at the door and denied the opportunity to go inside say goodbye to the girl I’d loved more than myself. I had tried to talk to the family, but Myra had made it crystal clear that I wasn’t welcomed. As long as I lived, no one else would ever have the chance to make me feel the way that woman had… never again. She’d destroyed what little remained of my heart and had deliberately crushed my soul with the callous way she had broken the news of Natalie’s pregnancy to me. I had been clueless. There had been nothing out of the ordinary to raise my suspicions that Natalie was pregnant with my child.

The day before the funeral I’d gone to the Hayes’s house, only to have Myra storm outside and inform me it was all my fault Natalie was dead. That I’d been the one who’d destroyed her life. She claimed Natalie had been upset about the baby. That I’d been the reason she’d been so distracted. Maybe she was right. Maybe it was my fault, but the past couldn’t be undone — even if I wished more than anything that it could.

I took a left heading out of town, and found myself taking a route Natalie and I used to drive whenever we wanted to be alone. During times like these, I felt the closest to her. This was the long way back to Hawk Mountain. Maybe the drive would also help to clear my head. When I allowed myself to sink back into all of those old memories and to visit that dark place I’d managed to scratch and claw my way out of years ago, there was always that need burning inside of me to visit Natalie’s grave. I just couldn’t do it. I’d pushed it down but it was always there, a yearning sickness growing and festering with each breath I drew. Sometimes, it was almost more than I could bear.

Maybe if I’d had the chance years ago to say my goodbyes then things would have turned out differently, but the thought of seeing Natalie’s name engraved on a headstone made me want to drink until I lost consciousness. The grief and the guilt alone had left me emotionally crippled. Hell, it’d almost swallowed me whole.