Heart of Stone Page 12

  I sat up. “No. Stop. Shut up. Don’t pull that I’m not worthy shit on me anymore.” I took a deep breath. I was never going to forgive myself if I cried. “What kind of a diamond licking, designer fucking purse wearing princess do you take me for? I’ve grown up in a little house, just as shitty as yours, and with not much to my name except a car with an odometer that has already gone around twice, a fairly worthless state quarter collection and an autographed picture of Justin Timberlake. And since I bought the damn thing on Ebay when I was fifteen, I’m pretty sure it’s a fake. So don’t give me the not worthy crap, Hunter. Please.”

  I grabbed my panties and bra deciding this whole rant would be a lot more respectable if I wasn’t sitting naked in the middle of a fishing boat. “Yeah, it’s nice to have a roof over my head. It’s nice to have food in my belly. And I’ll admit it’s nice to be able to buy a cute pair of shoes occasionally, but I don’t need much to be happy, Hunter. I just want to love the person I’m with and to have them love me back. I want to know that when things are tough and on days when the world is particularly ugly that the person I’m with will hold me and kiss me and tell me everything’s going to be all right.” A small waver in my voice warned me that tears could be imminent. “You’ve always been that person for me, Hunter. But lately it’s not enough. Sometimes when you’re not around, I feel empty. But it’s not because I’m lonely, it’s because deep down I feel like I’m chasing after something that isn’t really there.”

  He sat up. His hair stood up in black spikes all over his head as he raked his fingers through it. He reached for his jeans and pulled out a joint. “I’m nothing without you, Amy, but you shine like a goddamn angel all on your own. The only thing I do is dim that light with my big, fucking shadow.” He lit the joint and took a long hit. I waved it off when he offered it to me.

  I hopped up and pulled on my jeans. He avoided looking up at me. “One day it will dawn on you that I’m gone, that your days aren’t going to be lightened by your goddamn angel anymore, and you’ll be sorry as hell.”

  His dark lashes still curtained his eyes. I couldn’t see his expression, but I could see his Adam’s apple move up and down his throat with a deep swallow. He took another hit of weed and extinguished the joint. We got dressed and climbed back up to the pilot house.

  As hard as we tried to untangle this, the whole thing just kept getting more knotted.

  Chapter 19

  Hunter

  “I just realized something,” Slade said as he lowered his beer glass to the table.

  “This should be good,” Colt said with a roll of his eyes.

  “No really. I have no focal point. I’m missing a center of attention. Crucial eye candy, if you will.”

  I stared at him. “What the hell are you rambling about?”

  He pointed at Colt. “My little bro doesn’t take his eyes off his pretty jewel, Jade, all night. Even when she disappears down the hall to the storeroom, he stares all dreamy eyed that direction just waiting for his pretty little vision to return.”

  Colt leaned back. “You’re fucking nuts, do you know that?”

  Slade waved him off. “No, it’s all right, little bro. She’s a damn picture. I don’t blame you, and I’d probably do the same if I had someone like her.” He turned to me. “And you, my ever-serious big brother, well we all know who you watch. Actually, watch isn’t the right word for keeping an eye on someone so fiercely it seems you just might tear the head off of someone who dares to breathe air too close to Street. But that’s old news. Now there’s me. Mind you, tonight there’s been a nice little parade of beauties in and out of this place.” He lifted up a napkin that had a phone number on it. “Including that sweet little redhead who was in town to visit her aunt. But there is never that one girl who the spotlight always follows for me. I’m kind of pissed about that. I feel like I’m missing out on some kind of club membership or something.”

  Colt poured himself the rest of the beer. It was the last pitcher of the night. Almost everyone had cleared out of Lazy Daze but we were waiting until Jade and Amy were done with their shifts. “Damn, Slade, are you eating those funky mushrooms again, cuz you’re talking like you’re batshit crazy.”

  “Nope this is just me reflecting.”

  “Yeah, the reflecting bullshit again,” I said.

  Slade looked at me. “You, buddy, need it more than anyone. Not many guys can be completely nuts about a girl and yet, so boldly ignore it as you do.”

  “Yep, he has a point,” Colt chimed in.

  “Fuck. Is it closing time yet?” I glanced up at the clock above the bar.

  “Hey, we’re just looking out for Street,” Colt said. “Just in case you’re stupid enough to let her walk away.”

  I pulled my eyes from Amy, proving Slade’s earlier point, and raised an angry brow at Colt. “You must have strapped on your steel balls tonight, eh little brother?”

  “Sure did. Someone’s got to stop you from being your own worst enemy.”

  I sucked down the rest of the beer in my glass. “Think I’ll wait outside. You guys are exceptionally irritating tonight, which says a lot because both of you are like that itch you get on the bottom of your foot when you’re wearing a boot. The one that can’t be scratched no matter how hard you try to get rid of it.”

  “You just stomp your foot really hard,” Slade suggested, and gave a demonstration with his own foot.

  “Stomping the annoying itch—” I nodded. “First smart thing you’ve said all night.” I slipped out of the booth and headed across the bar.

  Amy glanced up from her task of stacking clean glasses. “Where are you going?”

  “Just need a smoke and a breather from Tweedle dumb and Tweedle dumber, over there.”

  Her musical and perfect laugh followed me out the door.

  With the exception of an unfamiliar, lifted jeep parked next to the retaining wall at the far corner, the parking lot was down to my bike, Amy’s car and Colt’s truck. A small red glow, most likely the end of a joint, was making its way around inside the jeep, indicating there were at least four people inside. I hadn’t paid that much attention to other customers tonight, but it seemed there had been only a handful of out-of-towners.

  I stood next to my bike and pulled out a cigarette. I covered the flame with my hand as I lit the end and took a drag. It was the first one I’d had all day, and it tasted smooth and inviting. It was a hard habit to give up, but I was close. It was only when shit really got my dander up that I needed to light up. Colt and Slade and their annoying fucking opinions had gotten to me only because I knew there was plenty of truth in what they’d said.

  Jack flipped over the open sign, and I heard the lock on the door spin. I stood by my bike and enjoyed the cigarette while the jeep people enjoyed whatever the hell it was they were smoking. It was unusual to see someone hang around the lot after closing.

  Amy’s laugh pulled my attention to the door. The four of them walked out.

  “Hey, we’re going to stop off and get some of that cookie dough that you just scoop and bake so we can munch and watch some movies at our house,” Slade said as they walked past. “You coming or do you have other plans?”

  I looked over at Amy. “You should come back with us,” she said.

  “Yeah, all right. But only if these two dorks don’t talk to me.”

  Colt held out his arms. “What? Then you’re taking away our entertainment.”

  “Those are my terms.” I walked over to the trash and tossed in my cigarette. Slade, Colt and Jade climbed into Colt’s truck. I walked Amy to her car.

  She peered up at me. “You don’t have to come with us. I mean if you have plans . . .”

  I reached up and tucked a stray strand of her copper hair behind her ear. “No plans. I’ll be right behind you.” I kissed her forehead and headed back to my bike. From the corner of my eye I saw Colt’s truck leave the parking lot. In the distance I heard the jeep fire up. I stopped to pull the keys out of my pocket
. Headlights swept around and glanced off the tinted windows of the bar. Tires shrieked behind me.

  “Hunter, watch out!” Amy screamed.

  I spun around. Amy had jumped back out of her car. The jeep was racing toward me. I caught a glimpse of the driver as I flew out of its path. My shoulder took most of the impact as I dropped and rolled across the pavement. The sound of metal being twisted and broken filled the night air.

  “Amy get in the car!” I yelled as I jumped to my feet in case they circled around. Dust kicked up as their tires skidded over the rough asphalt heading to the exit. Apparently, the sore losers from the poker game were satisfied that they’d gotten their revenge.

  I couldn’t bring myself to look at my bike. Rage seethed through me and I tore after the jeep. I lunged forward and grabbed the bumper but the driver gunned it. They flew toward the road but screeched to a halt as Colt’s truck pulled up to block them.

  “Stay in the truck,” I heard Colt say to Jade as he and Slade jumped out. Slade had a tire iron in his hand. He was smacking it against his opposite palm. I raced up the passenger’s side and yanked open the door before the guy could lock it. It was the guy who I’d nailed with my fist until Fletch’d stopped me.

  I reached in, grabbed his shirt and dragged him from the car. Slade was doing a nice number on the jeep with the tire iron, and Colt had the driver face down in the dirt.

  The guy in my grasp swung wildly at me, hitting me once on the shoulder.

  “Shit, did I do that to your nose, or was it always that fucking crooked?” I pulled my fist back. “Let’s see if I can fix it.”

  He shut his eyes and braced for the pain. I swung my fist into his stomach instead. As he doubled over in agony, an arm reached around and put me in a stranglehold. They’d been keeping their bigger friends in the backseat. I grabbed the guy’s arm and heard a switchblade flick open right next to my ear.

  “You asshole,” Amy’s voice came from behind. The guy was thrown off balance as my little wildcat jumped on his back putting him in a stranglehold with both her arms. I freed myself. He managed to swipe my shoulder with the blade just as I kicked his knee. He yelled out and stumbled forward. Amy spilled off his back. I caught her before she dropped to the ground.

  Jade had moved the truck back into the parking lot. Jack was watching the whole thing, swinging a baseball bat from his hand, just waiting to jump in. Colt and Slade were standing with their arms crossed as they watched the sniveling assholes crawl back into their beat to hell jeep holding bloody noses and mouths.

  The jeep limped away without any headlights or taillights.

  Amy walked up to me and pressed her fingers against the blood rushing from my shoulder. “Oh my god, I can’t believe you’re bleeding again.”

  Jade climbed out of the truck. Everyone stood silently and looked at me.

  “Friends of yours?” Slade asked.

  “Same assholes who left that gash on my face. I won money from them, and they’re still having a hard time accepting it.” I hadn’t turned around. I didn’t need to. I could see in all of their faces that it was bad.

  “God, sweetie, I’m so sorry,” Amy said quietly.

  “We can put it in the back of the truck,” Colt suggested.

  I turned around and walked back to the bike. It was in a several pieces, mangled well beyond looking like a motorcycle, a tweaked heap of chrome, metal and rubber. I bent down and picked up the side view mirror. The glass was shattered. I stared into it, seeing my own reflection in the fragments. I closed my eyes for a long moment. Just like Amy, I’d never had a lot. I had my brothers. I had Amy. And I had my bike.

  “Fuck!” I heaved the broken mirror clear across the parking lot. It clinkered into a hundred pieces somewhere in a distant corner of the lot.

  Amy walked up to me. She didn’t say a word as she wrapped her arms around me. I pulled her against me and held onto her like she was all I had left in the world.

  Chapter 20

  Amy

  My mom was humming. It was a completely familiar sound. When I was young, she would always hum show tunes when she was doing dishes or folding laundry. I always thought it was funny that the few times she was cheery enough to hum or sing was when she was performing boring chores. It had something to do with her mind being focused on easy tasks instead of on the bad stuff. Hearing it now, a Sound of Music medley, apparently, it sounded weird, misplaced, as if I’d woken up in a different life.

  I walked out of my room. Mom was in the hall closet moving stuff around. She heard my footsteps and peeked her face around the open door. The new meds seemed to have finally leveled out, and she was feeling better. Or at least I hoped so. She hadn’t done anything too crazy, and she wasn’t always sleeping. To me, having her semi-normal was like waking up to a pony on Christmas. If she would stay steady like this, I’d be thrilled and relieved. The occasional humming of show tunes would just be the icing on top.

  “Morning, sweetheart.”

  “What are you doing, Mom?”

  “Just thought I’d spend some time rearranging the closet.”

  “Great.” I moved to walk past her.

  “Oh my gosh,” she said as she pulled a dress out of the closet. It was the lavender dress she’d sewn for my eighth grade promotion. “Do you remember this?”

  “Of course I do. I loved that dress.”

  She held it up against me. “Guess it’s a little out of style and a bit too short now.” She lowered it and smoothed her fingers over the silky purple fabric. “Your dad was so mad at me because I spent so much on the material. He just never saw the beauty in things.”

  “No, he didn’t.” We were having a regular, lucid conversation. These moments had been so scarce lately that I felt like I was standing on a floor made of tissue paper and I’d fall through it soon and land back in crazyville. The sad thing was— these moments, fleeting and rare as they were, almost made it harder when she returned to her other self. They reminded me of the mom who I’d once known and loved to spend time with. I had hope for the medicine, but I also knew it was always a wild roller coaster ride with my mom. I never knew what was waiting around the next turn of track.

  “I’m going to make some coffee,” I said.

  “Already made.”

  I looked at her and raised a questioning brow.

  “Don’t worry, it’s perfectly safe. No snail poison, I promise.”

  “Good to hear.” I stepped into the kitchen. My gaze drifted to the window just in time to see Hunter heading down the street. He walked everywhere now, refusing rides from anyone. He looked sad and lonely like a little boy who had lost his dog. He had loved that motorcycle and losing it had crushed him. I had no way to make that better for him, and I hated that. He was on his way down to the Ranger. He still hadn’t found work but spending time fixing the boat seemed to make him feel better.

  Mom came in behind me. She caught me watching Hunter. Even with everything she was going through, she knew how strong my feelings were for Hunter. When I was a teenager, Mom and I had gotten into more than one all out scream-fest about him. She would constantly preface her side with how badly she felt for the boys and do her little tongue clicking thing but nothing else that would actually help them. Then she’d remind me that I was ruining my reputation by hanging out with them. My retort had always been that my reputation remained solidly crappy with or without the help of the Stone brothers. But as we grew older and as my mom’s mental health deteriorated, she’d given up on the fight. Her arguments, she knew, had never made a bit of difference. The Stone brothers were always going to be a part of my life.

  “Where’s Hunter off to so early? He looks tired. Those boys. That father sure left behind a mess.” She was extraordinarily normal this morning, and it was slightly scary. The words ‘the calm before the storm’ kept floating through my head.

  “They’re doing fine, Mom. You don’t have to worry.” I pulled my eyes from the window as Hunter turned the corner out of view. My mom e
ven looked more mom-like today with pink cheeks and her hair neatly brushed into a ponytail. “Hunter had some spare time, so he’s fixing the engine on the Ranger.”

  Her eyes rounded. “The Ranger? Your dad’s boat? Why on earth is he doing that?”

  “The boat is just sitting there decaying from salt and sun. I’m sure we could still get some good money for it.”

  She shook her head and reached for a cup. “What would your father say?”

  I looked at her. “Nothing. He’s dead, Mom. Remember?”

  Confusion crossed her face for a second, and I thought the moment of clarity was gone. But then she smiled. “Of course, I know that.” Her tone wasn’t completely convincing. “I just meant that boat was his pride and joy. He would be distraught to know that it was being sold.”

  “Uh, excuse me for pointing this out, but shouldn’t we have been his pride and joy instead of that rust-eaten trawler? We need the money, Mom.”

  She poured some coffee and took three big spoons of sugar, a habit that she’d started recently of turning her coffee into something that resembled syrup. “That’s fine, sweetheart. Whatever you think is best.”

  “It’s only in the fixing stage right now anyhow, so you don’t need to worry about it.” I sipped some coffee and watched as she pulled out the kitchen chair and sat with her sugary drink. “Mom, those new pills really seem to be helping you.”

  She lifted her eyes to me. They were my eyes only more glazed and a little less focused. “What pills, Amy?”

  “The new ones that Dr. Peterson prescribed.”

  She waved her hand. “Oh those. I stopped taking those two days ago. They were making me terribly sleepy.”

  I put down my coffee and crouched down next to her. “Do you mean you haven’t been taking the pills from the weekly pillbox that I set up for you?”

  “Nope, and I feel just fine.”