Kyland (Sign of Love #7) (2 page)

Tenleigh

"Hi, Rusty," I said as I breezed into the convenience store where I worked four days a week after school. I was breathing hard and was damp from the rain. I ran a hand over my hair. Outside, it was just beginning to clear up.

"You're late. Again." Rusty scowled.

I cringed inwardly at his harsh tone and glanced up at the clock. Walking the six miles from school in Evansly in an hour and fifteen minutes was impossible. I jogged a good part of the way and usually came in the store sweating and breathless. Not that Rusty cared. "Just two minutes, Rusty. I'll stay two minutes after, okay?" I offered him my prettiest smile. Rusty's scowl only deepened.

"You'll stay fifteen on account of that there was a cracked beer bottle in one of the six-packs Jay Crowley brought up to my register this morning."

I pressed my lips together.

The fact that Jay Crowley was buying beer first thing in the morning wasn't surprising, but what a cracked beer bottle had to do with me, I wasn't sure as Rusty was the one who unpacked the liquor. Even so, I just nodded, not saying a word as I went to the back to get my apron and broom.

It was the first of the month so I had to clear and organize the pop shelves quickly because in about an hour, after the food stamp debit cards were credited, Rusty's would be swamped with folks selling carts full of the sugary drinks. It was welfare fraud at its finest—take the five hundred or so dollars a family of four gets to eat for the month, buy pop down the highway at JoJo's gas station and sell it back to Rusty for fifty cents on the dollar, converting the government assistance into two hundred fifty dollars cold hard cash. Cash buys cigarettes, liquor, lottery tickets . . . meth—food stamps do not. And Rusty was happy to make the profit, never mind that it meant kids would go without dinner. In all fairness, though, if it weren’t Rusty buying the pop back, it would have been someone else. That's just the way it worked around here.

A couple hours later, the crowd had dwindled, and I was dusting a back shelf when the door chime sounded. I kept busy, glancing up when I saw someone in my peripheral vision opening the refrigerator door on the back wall. My eyes met Kyland Barrett's as he turned and I stood up from where I'd been squatting, facing the shelf. My eyes moved down to his hand as he stuffed a sandwich in the front of his jacket. His eyes widened, and he looked shocked for a brief second before his gaze darted behind me where I heard sudden footsteps. My head turned. Rusty was coming up the aisle, a scowl on his face as Kyland stood behind me, his hand and a large lump of sandwich still under the front of his jacket. If I moved, he'd be caught, red-handed. I made a split-second decision. I pretended to trip ungracefully, knocking several boxes of what surely must be stale Cheerios—the non-sugary cereal never sold—off the shelf and letting out a little scream. I don't know exactly why I did it—maybe the look of shocked fear on Kyland's face touched something inside me, maybe it was the understanding of hunger that existed between us. It certainly wasn't because I knew the quick action would completely alter the course of my entire life.

I stepped ungracefully on the boxes, smashing them and causing cereal to spill out onto the floor.

"What's the matter with you, you stupid girl?" Rusty demanded loudly, stooping to pick up a box at his feet as Kyland rushed by us both. "You're fired. I've had it with you." I heard the door chime and stood up quickly, making eye contact with Kyland again as he turned back, his eyes wide, his expression unreadable. He paused briefly, flinching slightly, and then the door swung shut behind him.

"I'm sorry, Rusty, it was just an accident. Please don't fire me." I needed this job. As much as I hated to beg for it, I had people relying on me.

"Gave you enough chances. There'll be a line down the street for this job tomorrow." He pointed at me, his eyes cold and mean. "Should have appreciated what you had and worked harder. Those pretty looks of yours won't get you anywhere in life if your head isn't screwed on straight."

I was well aware of that.
Painfully
aware. All you had to do was look at my mama for that fact to be established.

Blood whooshed in my ears. My neck felt hot. I took off my apron and dropped it on the floor as Rusty continued to mutter about the ungrateful, worthless help.

I stepped out of the store a few minutes later, the sun just setting over the mountains behind me—the sky awash in pinks and oranges. The air was cold and held the scent of fresh rain and sharp pine. I took a deep breath, wrapping my arms around myself, feeling lost and defeated. Losing my job was very, very bad news. Marlo was going to kill me. I groaned aloud. "What more?" I whispered to the universe. But the universe hadn't been responsible for my stupid choice. Only I could take credit for that.

Sometimes my life felt so
small
. And I had to wonder why those of us who were given small lives, still had to feel pain so big. It hardly seemed fair.

I put my hands in my pockets and started the walk to the base of our mountain, my school backpack slung over my shoulder. In the spring and summer, I'd read as I walked, the road familiar enough to me that I could concentrate on my book. Cars rarely drove this road and I always had plenty of advanced notice if one was coming. But when the fall came, it was too dim once I left Rusty's—not that that would be a problem anymore—and so I walked and busied my mind. And tonight was no different. In fact, I needed the distraction of my dreams. I needed the hope that life wouldn't always be so hard. I pictured myself winning the Tyton Coal Scholarship, the one I'd been working toward since I started high school. Every year, one of the top students was chosen to win the scholarship, which would send him or her to a four-year university, all expenses paid. If I won it, I'd finally be able to get out of Dennville, away from the poverty and the desperation, the welfare fraud, and the drug-pushing "pillbillies." I'd finally be able to provide for Mama and Marlo, move them away from here, get Mama the help she needed from a professional doctor, instead of the hollow-eyed one at the free clinic who I suspected was the center of the pillbilly business. I'd make a stop at Rusty's as I drove out of town, and I'd tell him to shove a stale box of Cheerios up his bony, flea-bitten ass.

As I turned the corner toward the base of the mountain, I saw old Mrs. Lytle sitting on the steps of the now-closed post office eating the last of a packaged sandwich. I squinted at her and smiled slightly when her eyes caught mine. My gaze went to the wrapper in her hand, the one that said "Rusty's Ham and Cheese," with a big red time stamp, dated today. It was the one Kyland Barrett had stolen just ten minutes before. "Evening, Mrs. Lytle," I said. She nodded, her sad eyes blinking as she took the last bite of the sandwich. Mrs. Lytle was almost part of the landscape at this point . . . an alcoholic who wandered the streets of the tiny town, mumbling to herself, and collecting pocket change from the townies to fund her addiction. She'd lost all three of her grown boys and her husband in the mine accident. I suspected she was hoping to follow them sooner rather than later. "You gonna be okay, tonight, Mrs. Lytle?" I asked, stuffing my hands deeper into my pockets. Not that I could offer her anything if she wasn't, but I wanted her to know I cared. Maybe that was something.

She nodded, still chewing. "Oh, I think so," she slurred. "I'll make my way somewhere after I'm done enjoying this fine show." She nodded up to the dwindling sunset.

I nodded back, letting out a breath and smiling at her. "Okay, then. Good night."

"'Night."

As I began walking the dirt road up the mountain, someone stepped in front of me and I let out a startled scream, stopping in my tracks and stepping backward right into a mud puddle. Kyland.

I huffed out a breath. "You scared me!" I stepped out of the mud, feeling the wetness seeping into my socks where my soles were cracked or coming loose.
Great. Thanks, Kyland.

He looked down at my feet, but didn't mention my ruined shoes. His eyes narrowed and he studied me for a few beats. "Why'd you do that? Back at the store? Why'd you help me?" His jaw ticked in anger.

I narrowed my eyes back at him, tilting my head slightly. He was angry with
me
? What in the ever-loving hell? "Why'd you give the sandwich to Mrs. Lytle?" I asked. "Why didn't you eat it yourself?" I crossed my arms. "I know you need the food." My gaze slipped to the ground at the reference to that private moment in the cafeteria when our eyes had met. But then I quickly looked back up.

He didn't answer me, and we both just stood looking at each other for a few silent moments. Finally he said, "He fired you?"

His face was tense and serious, and I couldn't help but to admire his strong jaw, the straight line of his nose, the fullness of his lips. I sighed. No good would come from those observations. "Yeah, he fired me."

Kyland stuffed his hands in his pockets and when I began to walk, he did, too, swearing under his breath. "Shit. You needed that job."

I huffed out a humorless laugh. "You
think?
No, I just worked sweeping floors because Rusty's charming disposition is so
inspiring
. Oh, if only there were more Rustys in the world." I brought my hand to my heart as if it was overflowing with love and admiration.

If Kyland noted my sarcasm, he didn't acknowledge it. "That was a really stupid move."

I stopped and turned to him. He stopped, too. "A thank you wouldn't be out of line. Rusty would have pressed charges in a New York minute. It would have made his
day
to press charges, maybe even his pathetic life."

Kyland looked behind me, out to the horizon. He sucked on his full bottom lip and furrowed his brow, finally looking back at me. "Yeah, I know." He paused, his eyes moving over my face slowly. I fidgeted under his scrutiny wondering what he was thinking. "Thank you."

I took the time to study him, too, now that he was up close. He gazed back at me, his gray eyes wary, his eyelashes long and thick. It was hard to really hate someone so good-looking. That was just the unfairness of life. Because I'd have really liked to hate the boy standing in front of me. Instead, I looked away and started walking. He fell in step beside me, and we walked in silence for several minutes.

"You don't have to walk with me."

"A young girl walking in the dark by herself is dangerous. I can make sure nothing bad happens to you."

I snorted. "All evidence to the contrary."

Kyland let out a short, surprised laugh.

I hefted my backpack up on my shoulder. "Anyway,
young
girl? I'm as old as you are. Maybe older. I turn eighteen in May."

He looked at me sideways. "What day?" he challenged, moving ahead of me and walking backward so he could look me in the face.

"May second."

His eyes widened. "No way. That's my birthday, too."

I stopped, surprised. "What time were you born?" I asked.

"I don't know exactly . . . sometime in the morning."

I started walking again and he fell in step beside me. "Afternoon," I said reluctantly. I could see the pleased look on his face out of the corner of my eye and I pressed my lips together.

After a minute, he said, "Seriously, though, you should be careful. There are bobcats on this mountain."

I sighed. "Bobcats are the least of my worries."

"You think so until a hungry one is standing right in front of you. Then it becomes your biggest problem real quickly."

I made an amused, agreeable sound and Kyland glanced over at me. "And what exactly would you do if a bobcat stepped into our path right now, Kyland Barrett?"

He looked surprised. "You know my name."

I started walking again. "It's a small town. I know everyone's name. Don't you?"

"No. I make it a point not to. I don't need to hear anyone's story, and I don't need to know anyone's name."

I tilted my head as I looked over at him. "Why not?"

"Because when I win the Tyton Coal Scholarship and get out of here, I don't want to carry a bunch of useless information from this useless shithole with me."

I turned to him again, surprised. "You're trying to win the scholarship?"

He raised one eyebrow at me. "Yeah, does that surprise you? Don't you see my name on all the top academic lists?"

"I . . . I mean . . ." Suddenly, Kyland grinned. My eyes widened and I stumbled slightly. I'd never seen him smile like that, not once, and it transformed his face into something . . . utterly beautiful. I gaped at him for a moment before gathering myself and increasing the speed of my steps. He sped up beside me. I shook my head, feeling unsettled, and attempting to remember what we'd been talking about. Right—the scholarship. Yes, I
was
surprised. I had seen Kyland's name on academic lists, but I didn't imagine that he had applied for the Tyton Coal Scholarship. He'd never shown up at any study groups or prep courses. It was always me, Ginny Rawlins, and Carrie Cooper. I knew they had applied for the scholarship because we'd discussed it. I thought they were my top competition. Kyland, despite his good grades always seemed so . . .
disinterested?