Unbreakable (26 page)

He liked that strip of skin, her smooth flesh beneath the white fabric. It had him swallowing, thinking about how soft she was, how sweet she tasted. How much he’d missed her.

“I was talking—”

“I heard you the first time,” he snapped.

She tossed her arms out wide in a gesture of aggravation. “Then why did you ask me what I said?”

“Because I couldn’t believe I heard it.”

“Do you want to know what I found out?”

“No,” he said, walking away, stopping, coming back, his hands at his hips. “But you’re going to tell me anyway, so…”

“Your father—”

“—if he was my father—”

“—won the house in a poker game.”

“What?”

“Your father…won the house…in a poker game.” She spoke each word slowly as if he was some kind of idiot.

She knew him well. “Who from?”

“The last name on the deed before Leroy Jayne was Maximus Crow.”

“If I had a chair, I’d sit down,” he said. “Because that is just a shit awful name.”

The look she gave him was pure exasperated Faith. “Now I have to wonder about the relationship between the Jaynes and the Crows.”

“You’d already discovered a Crow built the place.”

“Yes, but I assumed the family had given it up a long time ago,” she said, crossing to the parlor cabinets. “Especially since it had fallen into such disrepair before y’all moved here.”

“Hey, you talked to Suzanne. She knows more than I do.”

“I wish she knew where your father was so I could talk to him.”

He didn’t have anything to say to that. He hadn’t seen or heard from Leroy Jayne in over twenty years. The man could be dead. The man should be dead. And Faith had better not get a burr up her butt to go finding out if he was. He didn’t want her around that man. He didn’t want to have to kill him but he would to keep her safe.

“Casper? Is this stuff Clay’s?”

He glanced down to where she was nudging the toe of her boot through the boy’s things. “Yeah. I brought him by to grab the stuff he forgot. Guess that’s his being a kid.”

She reached for a book, looked at the title. “That little thief.”

“Hey now,” he said, reaching for her arm. “This house is one big echo chamber. Keep it down or he’ll hear you.”

“I don’t care if he hears me.” She jerked from his grasp and waved the book at him. “Kendall special ordered this title. She told me that it had gone missing off her shelves.”

He rubbed at his forehead. “Then he’ll pay her for it.”

“What else has he stolen?” She dropped the book onto the pile of Clay’s things. “Because I can’t imagine that’s it.”

Of course, she couldn’t, though it would be nice if she’d think about why. “He took food out of the Hellcat Saloon’s Dumpsters. You know, to have something to eat. And a couple of sodas from cases on the back porch. I already told him he’ll need to settle up with Arwen.”

“Good,” she said, still fuming. “You don’t know much about this kid, do you? Beyond seeing him a few times six years ago.”

And here we go.
“I know he came looking for me. That’s enough.”

“You could be getting into something you’re not equipped to handle. Christ, for all you know, he could have a juvie record.”

“He doesn’t have a juvie record. Except for the running away from the foster home part.” Though even as he said it he found himself admitting he didn’t know anything of the kind.

“Are you sure, or is that what you’re hoping?” she asked, her voice tempered low, though her tone was fierce and demanding and mad. “Have you talked to an attorney? Has your attorney talked to the New Mexico authorities? Have you done
anything
about making sure none of this blows up in your face? Or in his?”

Or in Boone’s, she might as well have added. “What I know is that he’s done what he’s had to do to get by. Just like I did.”

“That’s not an answer. That’s an excuse.” She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, opened them, and looked into his. “You need to take care of this. Now.”

What he needed was time and space before he forgot all the reasons he’d been missing her. “I’ve got to go out to Summerlin’s
for a bit before I head back to the ranch. Can you feed Clay and get him home?”

She closed her eyes again, shook her head, then grabbed the book from the floor before answering. “Yes, I can feed him and get him home, but don’t think I don’t see right through your ploy.”

His heart wasn’t in teasing her but he tried. “Ploy? Me?”

“You think if I spend time with him I’ll be more forgiving.”

No, mostly he’d been thinking he needed to get the fuck outta here. “It’s worked so far, you spending time with me.”

“Has it?” she asked, her head cocked. Then she brushed by him before he could answer, stomping out of the house, calling for Clay on her way, and leaving Casper to box up the things he’d dropped the boy by to do.

And then it hit him. Oh, the woman was sneaky. She’d left before he could on purpose. It was her way of making sure he had to clean up some of the mess his harboring a runaway had brought down. A small mess, sure, but one he had a hand in.

One of many he needed to face.

“I
HOPE THIS WILL
be okay,” Faith said as she and Clay climbed from her car. They slammed their doors and stepped one after the other from the parking lot into the Blackbird Diner. “I wasn’t sure what you might like.”

“I like food,” he said, lifting his hand to return Teri Gregor’s wave.

Faith thought of Boone as a teenager, shoveling up multiple helpings from the family-style bowls set on the table at supper. Then she realized Clay seemed totally at home, instead of self-conscious like she’d expect from a runaway. Weird.

“You know Teri?” she asked as they slid into their booth.

“Casper’s brought me food from here a few times. The burgers are totally dope. Last time I ate four chili dogs.” He reached up, shoved back the long shock of hair falling over half his face. “Think maybe I’ll have something different, though.”

“Anything you want,” she said, reaching for a laminated menu and handing one to him.

“You might want to take that back after you see how much I can eat.”

“Four chili dogs gives me an idea,” she said, and found herself smiling.

“Plus onion rings and a shake on top of that.”

“I work at the bank. If I need a loan, I’ve got connections.”

He grinned, a goofy kid grin, not the grin of a boy who’d crossed two states to find a cowboy who’d once bedded his since deceased mother. Christ, but had Casper managed to complicate his life, and now by extension hers.

She hadn’t been thinking. She should’ve gone straight to the ranch and rustled up something from what groceries the boys had instead of dining in public with a teenager the regulars would realize wasn’t local.

But since they were already here…“I saw your stuff in the house. I guess you like to read.”

He nodded. “My mom used to take me to the library a lot. And you can always find something in the trash behind bookstores.”

“Did you learn that from your mother?”

“They throw away stuff that’s worn out,” he said without answering her question.

She reached into her purse for the Nesbø title and set it on the table between them. “I don’t think they throw away stuff that’s brand new.”

He straightened, sat back in the booth, and distanced himself from her and his crime. “You better check with Casper before you call the cops.”

“I don’t answer to Casper.” And at least Clay hadn’t denied culpability. “Do you have any money?”

He nodded. “Casper gave me some. So I wouldn’t be totally broke. And for doing chores.”

“Good.” She dropped her gaze back to her menu. “We’ll stop by Kendall’s on our way to the ranch. You can pay her for the book.”

“Who’s Kendall?”

“A friend of mine. She owns the bookstore.” Without looking up, she pushed the paperback closer to him.

After a moment, he took it, then their waitress arrived for their order, her interruption perfectly timed. That done, Faith changed the subject. “How’re you liking the ranch?”

“It’s good. I haven’t got to go riding yet. Everyone’s busy, and I’ve got a lot of stuff to do at the house.” He stopped then, as if waiting for her to accuse him of other crimes.

The fact that he was mulling over this one was enough. “I know they appreciate your help. Even if you’re stuck cleaning up after them.”

He shrugged off her empathy. “Casper says he’ll take me out when they move the pairs from the Braff pasture.”

“I’ll bet Kevin’s enjoying himself.” And how many times had she thought about this boy making his trek in the company of a dog?

“Yeah, he’s all about Bing and Bob. They’re like the Three Musketeers, or whatever.”

Like Boone and Casper and Dax. Which took her back to thinking about the future, for those three boys and for this one.

“Are you going to be okay? If things don’t work out with Casper?” She had to ask. Because he had to know his time here would most likely soon end.

“You mean if I can’t stay?”

Being the bearer of bad news was never fun, but she needed to know Casper wasn’t getting Clay’s hopes up unfairly. “I
know Casper wants you to. It’s meant a lot to him, having you here.”

“Think so?”

“I do. He doesn’t have anyone either. Not really. Just Dax and Boone. They were pretty much his family the years he lived here before.”

“I remember hearing him talk about them. Back when I was a kid.”

Good lord, he was still a kid, didn’t he know that? She swallowed, waited until her heart had stopped breaking, then asked, “Was that part of why you came to him?”

“I don’t know,” he said, tapping the end of his knife on the table. “Maybe. He was always funny.”

“Funny?”
Or drunk?

“He made my mom laugh. She didn’t do much of that. I kinda got the feeling I was an accident, you know.” More tapping, then a frown and another admission. “That she hadn’t really wanted me around in the first place.”

She wondered if he’d told any of this to Casper. “Did you know your father?”

He shook his head, going quiet while their waitress set their plates in front of them. Once they were alone, he went on. “No. She usually had a guy around, but never for long.”

Just while the rodeo was in town. “I’m sorry.”

“It was okay. I hung out with kids from school, ate at their houses. Spent the night sometimes so I didn’t have to worry about getting to school.”

The same way Casper had hung out with the boys, had come home with Boone for dinner, had slept on the futon in the Mitchells’ den. She reached for the ketchup, squirted a pool onto her plate, watched it spread and thought of the words Casper had written, the images he’d drawn.

“Why would you have to worry about getting to school?” she asked, snapping the top of the bottle though there was little left to keep inside.

Clay reached for it, looking from her face to her plate. “We didn’t live in the district exactly. So there wasn’t a bus. And it was too far to walk. Mom would take me when she was awake in time. But I missed a lot.”

“Are you behind because of that?” And here he was missing more.

He gave an embarrassed nod. “This last year really sucked. I had to change schools because of where the foster home was. I didn’t know anyone there. And my classes were split between seventh and eighth grade.”

When, at fourteen, he should probably be in ninth. “I’m sure once you’re settled in a permanent home, you won’t have any trouble catching up.”

“Yeah. Like that’ll ever happen,” he said, adding mustard to his ketchup and stirring them to orange with the first of his four corn dogs.

She hated hearing him so defeated, but he was probably right. Teenagers were rarely adopted, and he only had four more years before he’d be kicked out of the system. Four years was a very long time when there were only seven he’d be spending as a teen.

“Do you mind if I ask you something personal?” As if the things she’d been asking him hadn’t been.

“I guess not,” he said with a shrug, his eyes averted, his mouth full.

Using a fork, she dredged two thick-cut fries through her ketchup. “What happened to your mother?”

He chewed, swallowed, reached for his glass of grape soda and sucked half of it up through his straw. “I don’t really know.
I came home from school one day and the next morning social workers came to the trailer to get me. The cops had found her during the night.”

Christ.
“Was it a car accident?”

“I’m pretty sure it was an overdose,” he said, toying with his straw, his gaze distant.

She should’ve kept her mouth shut. She shouldn’t have made him go back there. But then, she’d been doing a lot of that recently, hadn’t she? Returning people to their pasts when she couldn’t even get over hers. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know she’d used drugs.”

“Most people didn’t. I don’t even know if Casper did.”

Or maybe he did. Maybe he’d turned to more than alcohol in the years he’d been away searching for who he was, trying to find his life.

“He really is a cool guy, you know.”

“I guess he is.” Though his being cool didn’t keep him from being trouble, she mused, her stomach wrapped around the knot of that truth.

“You two hooked up?” Clay asked, waving his corn dog at her before taking a bite.

Hooked up. That brought her a smile. “We’re friends. We go to dinner sometimes. I’m helping him with the house.”

“Guess that makes you a pretty good friend.”

“I’ve known him a long time.” She wasn’t sure what Casper had told the boy—if anything—about his years in the house on Mulberry Street, and she didn’t want to prick a hole in the balloon of Clay’s admiration. “He used to come home with Boone, eat dinner with us. Spend the night sometimes. But I think mostly he was on his own.”

“It’s not that hard to get used to,” Clay said, his expression
older and wiser than fourteen. “Casper knowing what I’d been through, being left alone a lot and all…Coming here just made sense.”

Except the way Casper told the story, he barely remembered Clay. But he’d obviously—and unknowingly—left his mark on an eight-year-old boy who’d been desperate for attention.