Finders Keepers (22 page)

Her eyes met mine as a silent exchange passed between us.
“Thanks for the date.”

I laughed a few notes. What a date it had been. It had to
rank up there with the most extreme dates ever. “Thank you for letting me take
you on a date.”

“I figured it was about time.” Her hands rested on my chest,
and she let a smile come out.

“You figured right.” Leaning in, I pressed my lips into the
corner of hers. Mrs. Gibson shifted and looked away. I inhaled, breathing Josie
in, then let her go. I had a concerned father waiting for me—who hopefully
wasn’t waiting for me with the barrel aimed and trigger cocked. When I turned
to close the front door behind me, I found Josie in the same spot, watching me
with sad eyes. It took everything in me not to rush back to her and fix
whatever was troubling her.

Mr. Gibson was waiting for me just outside the door, leaning
into the porch railing with his arms crossed. No shotguns in sight. “It’s
obvious to me you want nothing but the best for my daughter,” he began as soon
as I’d closed the door, “but you and me both know that you’re not capable of
giving her that.”

Shit. And I thought I was done taking hard blows for the
night. “So we’re just diving straight into this?”

“I took you for a man who doesn’t like to bullshit around
the point, kind of like me. If I’ve got that wrong, then please correct me and
we can do some ice-breaking by talking about the weather, or what the Farmer’s
Almanac is predicting for rainfall this summer, or how the new cafe in town
serves piss poor coffee.”

“You’re right. Let’s get straight to the point.” I moved
beside the rocking chair across from him, but I didn’t sit in it the way my
body was aching to. I would stand like a man in front of Mr. Gibson and
whatever he was about to throw at me.

“I knew your daddy way back. Your mama, too.” Mr. Gibson
wasn’t wasting time, and I couldn’t blame him for that. Sunrise was only a few
hours away. “She was a good woman, and he was a well-intending man, but you of
all people know how that worked out.” He paused, letting that sink in. Letting
all of the memories and images I did a decent job of repressing flood back into
the forefront of my mind. My pain shot up a few levels. “The only difference
between your dad and mom’s situation and you and Josie’s is that Josie has a
protective and concerned father. I like you, son—you’re a decent enough kid who
I know cares for my daughter—but it wouldn’t matter if I loved you so much I’d
profess you my new religion. I won’t let my daughter fall victim to what your
daddy, and his daddy, did to the women they claim to love.”

I grabbed the back of the porch chair to steady myself. “I
wouldn’t do that to her. I’d never hurt her. I care about Josie.”

His eyes ran down me, taking me in. A person who’d lived
through cycling around in a tornado wouldn’t have come out as tore up as I
looked. “You might not intend to hurt her, but there’s nothing about being with
you—past, present, and future—that won’t hurt her.”

My hands gripped the rocking chair so hard my fingers shook.
“Since you and I don’t know each other all that well and we’ve never exactly
taken the time to get to know each other well, let me explain something to you.
On my list of priorities, number one has to do with never hurting Josie. It
always has been, and it always will be. Number two on that list is protecting
her from whatever or whoever else might hurt her.”

Mr. Gibson’s eyebrows lifted. “Kind of like you protected
her tonight?” That was the verbal hit equivalent of the baseball bat hits I’d
taken. “I don’t doubt those are your priorities, but here’s the thing, son. How
can those be realistic priorities? You and I both know you’ve hurt her plenty
in the past, and if it isn’t you in the future, someone or something is going
to wind up doing much worse than that grapefruit-sized bruise on her cheek
tonight.”

I wanted to argue, to deny I’d ever done anything to hurt
her, but that would be one of the biggest lies I’d ever tell. Mr. Gibson was
right—I’d hurt Josie in ways I’d kill another person for doing to her. Even
though I wanted to believe I’d learned my lesson, I wasn’t sure if that was
reality. Mr. Gibson was right again—I might have known my priorities, but were
the realistic ones?I didn’t have the answer to that question. I hung my head
between my arms and focused on breathing. I didn’t know what to say next. I
didn’t know what to do next. Life was closing in on me, and I didn’t feel
strong enough to hold the walls back from crushing me.

“Life isn’t fair, Garth. That is one lesson I learned a long
time ago.” Mr. Gibson’s voice wasn’t quite as harsh. Probably because he knew
he’d beaten me down so much I couldn’t fall any lower. “I’m an aging rancher
running a fifth-generation ranch with one son who wants nothing to do with
ranching and one daughter who can’t run it on her own. You drew the short straw
as to what family you were born into.”

I squeezed my eyes closed. “I wasn’t born into a family. I
was born into a dysfunctional fucking mess.” That right there was getting
straight to the point. A minute or two of silence passed between us. I expected
he was waiting for me to say something, but there was nothing I could say to
explain myself. There was nothing left to say.

“I know you would never try to drag Josie down with you, but
it’s inevitable. It’s kind of like a person with a cold. They might not mean to
spread it, but they can’t do anything to stop it either.”

I finally opened my eyes. Had he just said what I’d known
for so long but tried to ignore during the past few weeks with Josie? “Are you
saying I’m a virus?”

Mr. Gibson’s silence was all the answer I needed. “I’m
saying I’m going to do whatever it takes to keep my daughter healthy and safe.”

“I am, too.” I let go of the chair and tried to stand tall,
but it wasn’t happening. I was too beat down, physically and mentally.

Shoving off of the railing, he approached me until only a
foot of cool night air separated us. “Can you look me in the eye and promise
me, as a man, that Josie wouldn’t be better off falling in love and settling
down with someone else? Can you look me in the eye and guarantee me that the
best life she could expect to lead would be one with you?”

Yes!
I wanted to shout.
Absolutely!
But what I
wanted and what I knew were two very different things. Confusion hadn’t only
settled in; it had taken over.

Mr. Gibson waited for me to respond, but when a minute
passed with nothing from me, he patted my shoulder and headed for the door. “Do
the right thing. I’ll give you until morning to do it yourself, or I’ll do it
for you. This ends come tomorrow, you hear?”

Having a person order me to stay away from the one thing
that seemed more essential to my life than oxygen didn’t settle well with me.
“I’ll leave, but you won’t be able to keep Josie and me apart. Fifteen years
and you’ve never been able to keep us apart. I want her, and she wants me, too.
That’s something you’re just going to have to deal with.”

Mr. Gibson’s hand stayed on my shoulder, and he surveyed me
with almost a . . . pitiful look. “She doesn’t want you. She wants the idea of
you. The idea of the lost and lonely boy from her past that needs saving.
Nothing more. I promise when you leave tomorrow and you stay away, she’ll be
just fine.”

I had to unclench my jaw before I could reply. “Josie’s
never been able to just ‘get over’ me, and she won’t be able to now. I know how
she feels because it’s the exact same way I do about her.”

“You’ve never given her a chance to get over you. You two
have gone through so many ups and downs I can’t keep it straight.” Mr. Gibson
shook his head and dropped his hand from my shoulder. “Give her space, give her
time, and she’ll move on. She’ll move on to the life she deserves. The life
even you know she deserves.” Our to-the-point conversation apparently done, Mr.
Gibson slipped inside the door and closed it behind him.

Just like that, I’d been locked out of her life.

IT WAS MY last night sleeping under
the Gibsons’ roof. I hadn’t yet decided if I’d remove myself or if Mr. Gibson
and his shotgun would have to do the removing, but I held off sleep for as long
as I could realizing tomorrow night, Josie wouldn’t be a mere few rooms away.

After Mr. Gibson’s and my conversation, I’d stood out on
that porch for a while. I heard Mrs. Gibson all but force Josie up to bed when
she headed for the front door to find me. I waited another hour after all the
lights in the house had gone out. I was cold and I’d been beaten within a few
inches of my life, but I felt numb. Everything inside and outside of me felt
anesthetized. Everything but my heart. It ached so badly I almost convinced
myself I was having a heart attack.

What Josie’s dad had said was right. All of it. I might have
made a solemn vow with myself never to hurt her and to keep her protected, but
I seemed incapable of either. While I knew I couldn’t assume the trend would
carry into the future, I couldn’t guarantee it wouldn’t, and until I knew for
sure that I wouldn’t hurt her, I couldn’t be around her. Not after what had
happened. Josie would wear a fist-sized bruise on her face the rest of the
month because the shit that followed me at every turn had caught sight of her
and decided to share the wealth.

So I was leaving. I wouldn’t make Mr. Gibson throw me out.
I’d pack my bags and leave until I figured out what needed figuring out. Which,
when it came to me, was like saying I needed to figure out everything. I hadn’t
decided what I’d say to Josie yet, or if anything I could say would explain it
all to her. How could I express to her that I was leaving her for
her
own
good? Especially when I knew neither one of us would feel good about it. That
was the question I was stuck on when my body finally gave in and gave up to
sleep.

It wasn’t the dreamless kind of sleep either . . .

A couple summers ago, Josie’s brother was turning
twenty-one. Jesse was out of town at some rancher’s convention with his dad and
had asked me to tag along with Josie and keep an eye on her. Not because he
didn’t trust her—because he was Jesse Walker and he gave trust like it was in
limitless supply—but because he knew there’d be alcohol and a bunch of Luke’s frat
brothers who had a thing for his little sister. Even if Jesse hadn’t asked me
to hang with Josie at the party, I would have. I didn’t trust those U of M frat
boys as far as I could throw their hillbilly deluxe trucks.

The party was at Luke’s frat house. After Josie had drained
a couple of shots, every time I turned around, some other frat douche was
handing her another. I don’t know how many she had total, but I’d counted seven
when I finally called bullshit. I shut the music off, climbed up on a table, and
warned the next son of a bitch who slipped her a drink that he’d leave there
with my boot up his ass. The drinks slowed, but they didn’t stop. Thankfully,
she stayed glued to my side unless she had to go to the restroom, which I stood
outside of and guarded like a fucking Rottweiler. Luke drank himself into a
mini coma halfway into the night, so I was literally the only guy in the room
not trying to lure Josie into some dark room. It got old. Fast.

I was about two seconds away from driving my elbow into a
guy’s jaw—the one who kept grinding up against Josie when we weren’t anywhere
close to the thrown-together dance floor—when Josie threw her arms around my
neck, looked up at me with those green eyes of hers, and grinned.

“Ever since that first dance we had back in high school,
I’ve always dreamed of dancing with you again.” Before her words had
registered, she tucked her head beneath my chin and swayed against me.
“Tonight, I finally get to live that dream.”

I’d been conflicted in my life plenty of times and to
varying degrees, but that dance with that girl . . . there was no word for how
conflicted I felt right then. Conflicted didn’t even come close to describing
it. I knew my arms didn’t belong around her, and I knew my body didn’t have a
right to respond to her the way it was, but my head and heart never aligned
when I was with Josie. I danced with her. That first dance, and a second, and a
third. After the fifth one, I lost count. Dance after dance didn’t make it any
easier to drop my arms and let her go. She’d wandered into them of her own
accord, and I wasn’t sure I could ever let her wander out.

The party was in full swing, and everyone was plastered
enough that it wasn’t just a roomful of lowered inhibitions—it was a roomful of
no inhibitions. The only thing more on my mind than never letting our dance end
was protecting Josie. I was about to finally let her go so I could get her out
of there when her mouth moved just outside of my ear.

“Take me home,” she whispered, her breath warm against my
skin.

Grabbing her hand, I led her out of that frat house, lifted
her inside of my truck, and didn’t touch the brake until we were in front of
the Gibsons’ house. Her parents were at the same rancher’s convention as the
Walkers, but the fact that Josie and I had a big, quiet house all to ourselves
wasn’t even on my mind when I helped her through the front door and carried her
to her bedroom when she tripped over the first step. The most I’d seen Josie
drink was a couple of a beers, and the girl had a low tolerance. Given the
number of shots she’d had, it was a miracle she was still able to talk.

After getting her laid out on her bed, I’d told her I would
run and grab her some water and pain reliever to help with the morning-after
effects. I fumbled through her parents’ medicine cabinet for a while to find
what I needed. By the time I returned with the pills and water, I expected her
to be passed out and snoring. I certainly didn’t expect to walk in and find her
dress on the floor and her standing in front of an open window wearing nothing
but her underwear and bra. She held a frame with the picture of her, Jesse, and
me as children. Her thumb circled my scowly face. I dropped the glass of water,
and it shattered when it hit the floor.

Josie had spun around in surprise, but when she saw it was
just me, she smiled. Josie being next to naked and smiling at me as the
moonlight streamed onto her skin . . . that would have been enough to drop me
to my knees if I wasn’t already moving in her direction.

“You dropped something,” she’d said, setting down the
picture.

“Joze?” I’d swallowed, knowing I should look away.
Knowing
but not able to. “Why are you in your underwear?”

My throat had already felt dry, but by the time she stopped
in front of me and pressed against my body, it went something else entirely. “I
told you. Tonight, I get to live my dream.”

I’d smelled the alcohol on her breath and I saw it blurring
her eyes—I knew she was in no condition to make decisions—but when her hands
worked the buttons of my shirt loose, I basically said
Fuck it
, shut my
brain off entirely, and went with what my heart and body were telling me to do.

Once she’d peeled off my shirt, Josie unfastened her bra.
When she pressed her bare chest into mine, I had to bite my tongue and close my
eyes to keep from coming right then and there. I’d been with plenty of women,
and plenty of women had shoved their chests up against mine in a similar way,
but never,
never
had I almost fallen apart when one did it. Not that I
needed the reminder, but Josie’s touch did things to me I’d never experienced
before.

I don’t know who was the first to kiss the other. All I
remembered was that when it happened and whoever had made the first move, I
knew I wouldn’t make the last one. I wouldn’t be the one to ever stop kissing
her because I simply couldn’t. When I laid her back onto her bed, while I was
busy unfastening my fly, she slipped out of her panties. Just as I was about to
lower myself into her, that picture on her dresser caught my attention. From
across the room, a smiling blond boy watched me. I’d muttered a curse, and just
as I pulled back, Josie wrapped her arms and legs around me and pulled me to
her.

When her eyes locked onto mine, she smiled, then whispered,
“Finders keepers.”

Whether it was her hips that took me in or my hips that took
her, I knew one thing—things would never be the same.

They never had been.

THAT WAS THE dream I bolted awake
from. While I didn’t consider it a nightmare because of what had happened that
night, it became a nightmare when I realized that was possibly the first and
the last time I’d experience Josie that way. I’d had that dream before, but
until Jesse and Rowen had gotten together, I’d burst awake from it drenched in
sweat and guilt.

Before long that night, Josie and I had been digging our
fingers into the other’s backs and screaming each other’s names, but unlike
Josie—who’d fallen asleep immediately after—sleep never found me. Instead, I
went from staring at the girl I’d always wanted and now
had
to the boy
in the photograph. What we’d done that night was the ultimate betrayal. Jesse
was a good man, the best man I’d ever known. That he openly admitted to being
best friends with the town drunk’s son was something I’d never felt worthy of.
That night, I understood why.

I
wasn’t
worthy of his friendship. I sure as hell
wasn’t worthy of the girl lying next to me with a peaceful expression on her
face. I’d taken Josie from him, and even though I’d felt exactly that way back
in high school when he asked her to Homecoming, I’d never planned on repaying
him. Especially not by having sex with her while he was out of town and he’d
asked me to watch out for her.

I’d been worried all night about other guys putting moves on
her, but I should have been worried about myself. Mr. Gibson had been right: I
was a virus. I didn’t mean to spread my sickness, but I simply couldn’t help
it. I’d infected my two best friends in the world that night, and before the
sun had risen the next morning, I was on the phone with Jesse explaining what
had happened. Of course that did nothing but further alienate me from both of
them. I turned into the even-harder shell of a person I’d been until Josie had
catapulted back into my life.

History was pretty much repeating itself. I’d moved in on
her when she’d been with someone else, giving no thought to what was best for
her—only what was best for me. Given the way she looked at me and the intention
in her touch, I’d practically convinced her that I was what was best for her,
too. But I wasn’t what was best for her. How could I be when the only roof I
had over my head was the cab of my old truck? How could I be what was best for
her when I didn’t even know what was best for myself? How could I love her the
way she deserved to be loved when my parents hadn’t shown me an ounce of it?

The answer to those and the other questions streaming
through my head was simple—I couldn’t. That answer made me throw off the
covers, jump out of bed, and pull my duffle bag out of the closet. I had to go.
It would be hard for her, but unlike me, Josie would recover. She’d dry her
eyes one morning and wake up to find the sun a little brighter and her future
more hopeful without me in it. She’d live the life I’d always wanted for her.
It just wouldn’t be with me.

Stuffing the first thing in my bag was the hardest. Once I
got past that, the rest went in quickly. I’d made up my mind. The sooner I was
out of there, the easier it would be for both of us to move on. Or in my case,
pretend to move on. I was sitting on the edge of the bed to pull on my boots
when the doorknob twisted. I froze, but as hard as I tried, I couldn’t get my
heart to follow suit. I needed my heart frozen to say good-bye to Josie. I
needed it frozen to make it out that front door and leave her behind. But the
instant that door opened and she slipped inside, I knew my fight to freeze
anything was over.

She had a playful smile on, and then she saw the full duffle
on the bed and the boots in my hand. All playfulness fell from her face, along
with the smile. “Where the hell are you going?”

I closed my eyes to keep from having to look into her eyes.
“I don’t know. I’m just going.”

“Is this because of something my dad said to you?”

I shook my head once. “No.”

“Is this because of what happened earlier? Are you feeling
guilty because I’ve got a little bruise on my face?” Josie was whispering but
just barely. If the conversation got any more heated, and I knew it would, she
would wake up the whole house soon.

“I’m going because I have to go.”

“No, you don’t,” she snapped.

I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Yes, I do. You know it,
and now I finally do, too.”

“No, I damn well don’t know that, and you don’t either,
Black. So do me a favor and stop playing the martyr.” Her voice wobbled over a
few words, but she still sounded more pissed off than anything else.