Trailer Trash (14 page)

Cody didn’t say anything else. Nate waited for his next accusation, but it didn’t come. The silence stretched on for ages.

Finally, Nate forced himself to look over. He couldn’t hold his head up and face Cody directly, but he glanced at him sideways to try to gauge his reaction.

Cody was staring right at him, obviously waiting for him to make eye contact. He didn’t say a word. He kept his eyes locked on Nate as he slowly reached across the expanse between them. He put his hand on Nate’s thigh, and every inch of Nate’s body seemed to come alive. It was as if his entire awareness shrank—or maybe it expanded—to that one spot where Cody’s hand rested on his leg. That tiny bit of contact made his blood race.

“Is this why?” Cody asked quietly.

Oh God, yes, this was why! The fact that Cody was all he could think about. That his smile took Nate’s breath away. Nate couldn’t even look at him without longing for him to be closer, but that was wrong. He needed to pull away, to run back home, to hide in his safe, Orange Grove world, because his only other option was to push much, much closer, and he was terribly afraid to let that happen.

He did nothing. He stayed there, the heat of Cody’s hand burning through his pant leg, his cock hard and aching, chafing in the confines of his jeans.

Cody stood up, moving slowly as if approaching a wary animal, and Nate supposed in a way he was. With him standing and Nate still sitting on the edge of the wagon, they were exactly the same height. Cody’s hand strayed a mere half an inch upward, and it was enough to make Nate hold his breath. He had to brace himself to keep from sliding down in his seat in order to make Cody’s hand drift higher.

Cody inched closer. “Do you want me to stop?”

No, Nate didn’t want him to stop. That was the last thing he wanted. He tried to speak, but couldn’t. All he could do was shake his head.

Cody smiled, that gorgeous, secret smile that haunted Nate’s dreams. He moved so he stood between Nate’s knees. He had one hand on each of Nate’s thighs now, and Nate’s breath caught in his throat. He shut his eyes and let the heat of Cody’s touch warm him. It tingled in his groin, up his spine, wiggling all the way to his fingertips like electricity crackling through his veins. He might have moaned, but he wasn’t sure if it actually happened or if it was all in his head, but Jesus, Cody’s touch felt good.

“Nate?” Cody’s voice wasn’t much more than a whisper. “Do you want me to touch you more?”

Just the words made Nate ache. His entire body felt weak, insubstantial, nonexistent except for the desperate need Cody had kindled in him. He made himself nod.

Cody kissed his jaw, his breath warming Nate’s cheek. And then his hands moved in tandem, up Nate’s thighs until his fingers touched Nate’s erection. Even through his jeans, it was almost enough to make Nate come. The sound he made this time was closer to a whimper than a moan. His eyes were still closed, but he knew Cody’s hands. He knew the length and shape of his fingers, and he couldn’t seem to think of anything else at all as they touched him through his pants.

“Do you want me to kiss you?” Cody asked.

And this time, Nate could talk. The word burst out of him before he had time to think. “Yes!”

Cody’s lips brushed his, and it was all Nate could do to hold still, to hold on, to keep on breathing as the tip of Cody’s tongue teased against his lips. Nate felt as if every bit of him was wavering, melting, thrumming with impatience. The gentle pressure on his erection felt like bliss, and Nate parted his lips. He grabbed Cody and pulled him closer to deepen their kiss. Cody tasted like smoke and sugar, and Nate moaned, desperate to feel more of him. He held his breath, bracing himself as Cody undid Nate’s pants and slipped his hand inside, hoping he didn’t come the minute Cody touched him.

It was a near thing. Feeling Cody’s fingers wrap around him almost sent him over the edge, but he fought back his orgasm, his breath coming in sharp little gasps. He hung on to Cody, lost in his kiss, lost in the feel of the cold air and Cody’s hand stroking him, urging him to climax. One glorious, amazing minute of feeling better than he’d ever felt, knowing this was what he’d been dreaming of all along. Nate cried out against Cody’s lips as he came.

And then it was over, so quick it made Nate dizzy. Cody moved his hand away to wipe it on his jeans, and Nate gasped, the cold wind on his wet groin suddenly feeling icy. It was like waking from a wonderful dream. Like plummeting from some great height to crash into the rocks below. He was embarrassed and ashamed and confused. He fumbled to wipe himself clean, to cover himself up. He tried to look away from the obvious bulge in Cody’s pants.

Jesus, how had he let this happen? He’d wanted to talk to Cody. He’d wanted for them to be friends again, but this . . .

“Nate?” Cody said.

Nate couldn’t face him. He covered his eyes with his hands, struggling not to cry.

“That never should have happened. Oh my God, that never should have happened!”

The silence that followed was horrible. The still, pregnant silence of hurt. The painful, awkward silence of betrayal.

“Funny,” Cody said at last. “That’s what Dusty said too.”

Even over the wind, Nate heard the swish of the grass as Cody climbed the embankment and walked away.

“How’d it go?” Logan asked Cody the next day in social studies. “Did he apologize?”

Cody chewed his lip. He didn’t want to have this conversation at all. Then again, at least Logan cared. At least Logan didn’t treat him like some kind of pariah. “Kind of.”

Logan’s smile wilted a bit. “‘Kind of’?”

Cody cleared his throat, wishing his chest wasn’t so tight, wishing there was no itch behind his eyes. Logan leaned closer, his long legs and bulky frame filling the aisle between the desks, and Cody pitched his voice low so nobody else could hear. “He asked me about all the stuff Larry told him.”

“And?”

“And I told him.” He couldn’t even look at Logan as he said it. “And then . . .”

“Then?”

“We . . .” His cheeks burned. “Well, we—”

“Holy shit!”

“Yeah. Exactly. But afterward, he freaked right the fuck out and bolted.”

“But . . .” Logan sounded as confused as Cody felt. “I thought—”

“It doesn’t matter.” But it did. God, as much as he hated to admit it, it did. “Forget it, all right? It’s over.”

Logan didn’t mention Nate again the rest of the week, but Cody noticed how he glared at Nate off and on during social studies. It was almost enough to make him smile.

Almost.

But even Logan’s outrage wasn’t enough to ease Cody’s heartache. He’d never felt so alone. He didn’t dare think about the field. For one brief, miraculous moment, he’d been lost in the sheer exhilaration of knowing Nate wanted him the same way he wanted Nate. But he’d felt that freeze go through Nate a half a minute after he’d come, and when that happened, every emotion in Cody’s heart seemed to disappear. He was as barren as the Wyoming plains, the wind scouring his insides clean until there was nothing left but bone.

Friendship with Nate had never really been an option. A romance with Nate? Well, that had been a stupid dream at best, too foolish to even think about. Cody kicked himself again and again for ever daring to believe it might be possible. He replayed their encounter in the field, wondering how different things might have been if he’d only lied. Or if he’d never reached across the wagon and put his hand on Nate’s knee. How much better might this have ended if he’d never known the way Nate’s breath caught in his throat at Cody’s touch?

No, he never should have let that happen.

Too late now.

He was glad for work, thankful for an excuse to be away from his dank little trailer. He threw himself into the mindless task, basking in the hot, soapy water as cold descended outside, hoping to wash away the pain, to see all his loneliness and anger go spinning the drain.

It never did, though.

Two days after the incident in the field, somebody knocked on Cody’s front door.

He was at the kitchen table, working on math homework, while his mom watched TV. They looked at each other, both of them seeming to ask the same silent question.
You expecting anyone?

Cody’s mom shook her head.

Cody was closer, so he went to the door and opened it a crack. What he saw through the screen made his heart sink.

“It’s the police,” he said to his mom, without opening the storm door, and without taking his eyes off the man on the other side of it. He was in uniform, but he wasn’t anybody Cody recognized.

His mom came to the door, edging Cody out of the way and blocking the entire opening with her body, as if she could shield Cody from whatever this was.

“What do you want?”

The cop squinted at her. “Are you Cyndi Prudhomme?”

“Yes.”

“I’d like to talk to you for a few minutes. Can I come in?”

“You have a warrant?”

“No.”

She held up her hands, as if it were somehow out of her control and she wasn’t the one denying him entrance. “Guess you’re not coming inside, then.”

“Is your son at home?”

“You know he is. You just saw him.”

“I need to speak with him.”

“My son’s not eighteen yet, so if you have something to say, you can say it to me.”

Cody smiled, despite himself. He’d be eighteen in only a week, but it was nice that his mom seemed so determined to stand up for him.

“Ma’am—” the cop started to say.

“It’s okay, Mom,” Cody said. “I haven’t done anything.”

She glanced over at him, her lips narrowing. “You never do, but it sure doesn’t stop them from knocking on our door every time something goes wrong.”

But she moved out of the way and let the police officer step in. He stopped just inside the door, clearly waiting to be invited to sit down, but Cody wasn’t feeling that generous. “What do you want to talk to me about?”

“You’re Cody?”

“Yes.”

“Cody, I’m Officer Bradford. I—”

“Bradford?”

Now it was the cop’s turn to look confused. “Yes.”

“Nate’s dad?” Because suddenly, this was looking far worse than he’d ever imagined.

The man’s eyes narrowed. “Yes.”

Was he here because of what had happened with Nate? Had Nate told him that Cody had forced himself on him? Cody’s cheeks burned. He glanced toward his mother, wondering if he could ask her to leave without arousing any suspicion.

“I need to know where you were last night,” Nate’s dad said.

Cody blinked, surprised. So it wasn’t about what had happened on Sunday with Nate. “What time?”

“Any time.”

“Well, I went to work right after school. I was there until nine. Then I came home.”

“Where do you work?”

“At the Tomahawk.”

“Doing what?”

“Washing dishes.” He wished he could have said something better—something that didn’t make him sound like such white trash—but at least he was working.

Officer Bradford turned to Cody’s mom. “Can you corroborate that?”

If the word “corroborate” confused her, she didn’t let it show. “He was at work, then he came home, just like he said. Why? What’s this about?”

“Your neighbors reported a break-in.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” his mom mumbled.

“Which neighbors?” Cody asked.

“Kathy Johansen and Pete Jessup.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” his mom said again, louder this time.

Cody’s heart began to pound a bit faster than usual, but he fought to keep his tone level. “Is that it?” Cody asked, knowing it wasn’t. “Somebody broke in? Or is there more?”

“Some money was taken.”

Just like his mom had said—as soon as something went wrong, they came looking for either Cody or his mom. “I didn’t have anything to do with it.”

“They say they saw you hanging around—”

“Of course they saw me hanging around. I live right next door.”

“They think maybe you were casing their house.”

Cody almost rolled his eyes.

Almost.

“Look, if I was gonna go casing people’s houses and then breaking in, don’t you think I could find somebody with more money than Kathy and Pete?”

“I don’t know. Could you?”

Cody took a step back, feeling like he’d walked right into a trap. “I didn’t mean it that way.” He regretted letting his temper get the better of him. He knew from past experience it wouldn’t do him any good. “I just mean, I haven’t stolen anything. Not from anybody, but certainly not from them.”

“So, you wouldn’t mind if I checked in your room?”

“I—”

“No!” His mom stepped forward like she was going into battle. “We’re done here.” She pointed to the door. “You have no warrant and no grounds for a warrant—”

“If your son’s innocent, you have no reason to deny the search.”

“What would you even look for?” she asked. “Cash? He has cash. He just told you he’s been working part-time up at the Tomahawk. I can tell you right now, if you search his room, you’ll find a bit of money. But do you have any way of proving it came from their trailer? You got serial numbers or something for the money Pete and Kathy say was stolen?”

Officer Bradford clenched his jaws. “No.”