Drift Away (Noah Braddock Mysteries) (8 page)

I took a drink from the beer.

“So I can’t figure you out,” she said. “And I have this feeling you aren’t going to help me figure you out.”

“I’m not good at talking about myself,” I said.

“Not good is different than not wanting to,” she said. “But I get it. And it’s totally okay. I’m not prying. Well, I mean, I probably am and obviously I’m curious. But I’m not trying to push you. So I’m sorry if that’s what it seems like.”

“It’s OK,” I said, hoping she meant it.

“Plus, you’re the first guest we’ve had over since we moved in here and I sometimes manage to screw up meals, so I’m a little nervous.”

“I thought you said you were a good cook.”

She tucked her legs under her on the couch. “I am. But that doesn’t mean I’m perfect.”

“No one is.”

She pointed the bottle at me again. “True. So if it sucks, remember that.”

“I will,” I said. “But it won’t suck.”

“If you say so.”

It did not suck. It tasted fantastic, as did the garlic bread and the salad she put together. Jackson ate an entire plate full of lasagna, splashing sauce all down the front of him and around his plate. He scrambled away from the small kitchen table as soon as he was done, back to his room and his Legos.

Bella and I talked. Or rather, she talked and I listened. I learned that she was originally from Tampa and that she was an only child and that her parents divorced when she was sixteen and that her father moved to New York and married a model while her mom became a missionary and moved to the Philippines. She did a stint in community college, general education classes, then got pregnant with Jackson. Now, at 26, she had no clue what she wanted to do.

She noticeably skipped over one part of the story, though.

“Where is Jackson’s dad?” I asked after we’d done dishes and moved back to the couch.

She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “He’s dead.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

She shook her head. “Don’t be. He was awful.”

“How?”

She ran a hand through her hair, memories taking up uncomfortable space in her expression. “Just a bad guy. Everything he did, it was pretty much wrong. He hurt people. He lied. He stole.”  She squinted, as if it was painful to even talk about him. “There wasn’t much good in Evan.”

I had some experience with people like that, so I believed her.

“How did he die?” I asked.

Her fingers tapped the back of the couch. “He was big-time into drugs. A bunch of other crap that I probably didn’t even know about, but he was a whatchamacallit?  Like the head of a group?  That was Evan. He had a pretty big thing going around Tampa. Most of the dope that came through the area apparently went through him somehow.”

Tampa was one of those places that looked glamorous on the outside because of its physical location on the bay. But I knew I’d read that its seedy underside could rival that of nearly any city in the country. If Evan was that big in Tampa, he’d been a significant player.

“Anyhow, some deal went bad, I guess,” she said, waving a hand in the air. “Bunch of guys showed up one night and shot him.”

“Were you there?”

She shook her head. “No, I was long gone. He’d already declared he wasn’t going to be a father and I’d finally gotten it through my thick head that maybe, just maybe, I shouldn’t be hanging around a guy who always had a gun in his pants.”  She laughed derisively. “Took me awhile.”

“How long were you together?”

“Off and on since high school,” she said. “I knew he was bad news then, but
…
but I really don’t have an excuse. My life was going to shit with my parents divorce, he was unbelievably good looking and he could be insanely charming when he wanted to be. And he liked me.”  She shrugged. “I latched onto him and had a hard time letting go.”

“So Jackson never knew him?”

“Nope. And I think that’s a good thing.”

I’d gone nearly my entire lifetime without knowing my father and when I’d finally met him, I wished I never had. So I wasn’t going to argue.

“He ask about him?”

She shook her head. “Not really. I know he will someday, but he’s not at that age yet where he knows he should wonder.”

“Be honest with him,” I said. “Even if it’s not what he wants to hear.”

She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear and I was momentarily frozen, remembering how Liz used to make the exact same gesture.

“Why do you say that?” she asked.

I blinked several times, forcing myself to focus. “I just
…
think it’s better not to lie.”

She stared at me for a long moment. “I’m not sure I believe you.”

“How’s that?”

“Seems like there’s more there,” she said, the corner of her mouth curving into a smile. “Like with damn nearly everything else about you. Just seems like there’s a lot more there.”

I didn't say anything to that, just focused on the beer in my hand. She took a sip of her own and we sat quietly for a while. It wasn't an awkward silence, but it wasn't necessarily comfortable, either.

I set my bottle on the table and stood. “I should probably go.”

She didn’t bother to hide her disappointment and for a moment, I felt guilty. She very obviously wanted the company of someone other than a little boy. But I could feel the questions forming in her head, about to find their way to her mouth and I didn’t want to have to sit there and lie to her.

She pushed herself off the sofa. “Okay.”

“I’m sorry, it’s just that
…
”

She held up a hand. “It’s okay. I need to get Jackson to bed, anyway.”

I went down the hallway and pushed open the door to his room. He was curled up in a bundle, surrounded by Legos, eyes shut tight, snoring softly.

Bella came up next to me and chuckled. “Every night. He plays himself to sleep. And, oh boy, is he going to be mad that he didn’t get to say goodbye to you.”

“Tell him to come find me on the beach,” I said. “Tomorrow.”

She raised a thin eyebrow. “Yeah?”

I nodded. I glanced back at the boy. “Can I put him in the bed for you?”

She hesitated, then nodded.

I bent down and scooped him up. His head rotated to the side and he let out a sigh, but his eyes didn’t open. Bella pulled back the sheets on his small twin bed and I set him down gently. She pushed a tattered stuffed dog into his arms and he clutched it, his lips smacking together as he sighed again. She covered him with the sheet and the Batman comforter and shut off the light as we walked out.

“Thank you,” she said.

“Thank you,” I said. “For dinner. And the company.”

“You’re welcome to stay awhile longer if you’d like,” she said. “I’ve got more beer.”

“I should get going.”

She nodded, as if she'd expected that response.

We paused in the entryway.

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” she said. “But it bothers me that you’re going home to a garage.”

I smiled. “It’s fine. Just temporary.”

“You’re going to move soon?”

I nodded. “Probably.”

She smiled. “That’s good. You shouldn’t be living in a garage.”

She didn’t realize that I meant from Fort Walton, but I didn’t correct her.

“You’re welcome any time,” she said, stepping closer to me. “Here.”

“Thank you.”

“Is it alright if I give you a hug?” she asked. “You sorta look like you need a hug. No offense.”

I didn’t know what to say to that, so I stood there still, stupidly.

She reached up on her tiptoes and put her arms around my neck. I leaned down and started to hug her, then stopped, then placed my hands awkwardly on her hips. She squeezed me hard. It wasn’t one of those fake hugs that people just gave to give. She meant it.

Her hair smelled clean and citrusy, brushing against my cheek. She held on longer than I anticipated. She finally pulled away, but kept her arms around my neck until we were staring at one another. Her eyes were bright, happy, curious.

She waited.

I waited.

Finally, she leaned forward and kissed my cheek, then let her hands fall from my neck.

She stepped back. “Really. Any time.”

I nodded, unable to find my voice. Too many things were running through my head and I couldn’t process them the right way. How her hair smelled different than Liz’s and I was glad, because otherwise I might not have been able to let go. How I could remember exactly the last time I’d been touched with affection and it had been from Liz. How absolutely nothing and everything about the hug reminded me of Liz and how suddenly I could barely breathe.

I needed to leave and find some air. I reached for the door and pulled it open.

And was surprised to find someone standing there.

FOURTEEN

“Hey, Bella,” the visitor said. “Didn’t realize you had company.”

He was almost my height, short black hair combed neatly to the side. Large, dark eyes were set against skin turned brown from the sun.

Bella’s demeanor changed immediately. Anxiousness stiffened her shoulders and something flickered in her eyes. Something like irritation. Or fear.

He looked at me. “I don’t know you.”

“No,” I said. “You don’t.”

He glanced at Bella. “New boyfriend?”

She shifted her weight from foot to foot, not answering. She looked at me. “You can go. It’s fine.”