Page 53 of Storm Warning
KAYLEE - JULY 24, 2004
How didI end up here?
My fingers clutch my dad’s buckle as I walk out of Molly Mae’s.
“Each piece here has a story,” she said. “I just wish they all came with them.”
She sees light in everything, unknowingly giving hope to items that only have darkness, and I wish I saw that way too. I wish I felt like good came with the bad every time, but I don’t. It would be nice if every lost or sold treasure came with a book. A narration of its life so you could decide if you wanted the omens that came along with it. Had that been the case, this piece of shit would be long gone. Who would ever want to keep something that ruined a family, from a man who never cared about them in the first place?
I keep the buckle at my side, gliding my fingers over its bumpy finish, questioning over and over why I came back for something that only makes me feel anger.
Why would I want this reminder of him? Why would I quite literally pay for something I’ve been paying formy whole life?
Crossing the street, I see a garbage bin and consider ridding myself, and the world, of this buckle indefinitely. Tossing it into the bin where it belongs, just like my good for nothing dad.
A truck rumbles up to my side, stopping me from going through with my plan as I turn to look at the road.
“Well, ain’t it my lucky day,” Rhett says, leaning over and cranking down the passenger window.
“That makes one of us.” I spit the words out in anger, even though the emotions aren’t brought on by him. Pain prickles in my palm, and I glance down at the heavy piece of metal now causing pressure marks into my hand.
“Ouch, I thought we were past this.” Per his usual chipper self, he doesn’t sound hurt by my comment at all.
I walk over to the edge of the sidewalk and swing the creaky door open. “Sorry, bad day. I didn’t mean that about you.”
“No apologies necessary. Prince Charmin’ is here to save ya.” He chuckles, and I roll my eyes, but it does bring a smile to my lips. “Where to?”
I don’t have the answer for his question. I don’t even remember why I ended up at Molly Mae’s or what compelled me to buy the stupid belt buckle in the first place. And now that I have it, all I want to do is get rid of it. My mind flurries with thoughts. None of which make me feel like answers. So instead of responding to him, I ask a question of my own. “Sawyer’s performance is tonight. Are you going?”
“Can’t have one without the other.” He laughs.
I’ve probably never heard anything more true, but a laugh still rises from my chest. “That’s always been abundantly clear.”
“And yet all four of us are rarely together. Why is that?” A mischievous look plants itself on his face, but my bad mood only twists his bit of fun into something that pisses me off.
“I haven’t actually told Daisy we’ve been talking.” I admit, instantly regretting it.
Hurt resides in his eyes, his expression not hiding his dissatisfaction. And it makes me feel the urge to push him away.
He’s completely justified in wondering why I haven’t told my best friend about us. I honestly want to, but I would hate to share to have it all to crumble later, especially when she’s already got so much to worry about of her own. I feel defensive. Like an animal trapped in a corner and the only way out is deflection.
“I’ll tell her when I’m ready. I’d rather know this isn’t just a bit of casual fun.” This time my words come out a bit more harsh, like I truly believe we are just fucking around and nothing else. I don’t, but there’s no way I’m back-peddling now.
He opens his mouth to speak but closes it just the same. Him not fighting me only makes me more mad, forcing a huff to escape my lungs. “You can drop me off here.” Reaching for the handle, I barely wait for him to pull off back toward the sidewalk. Guilt sparks in my chest. He didn’t do anything wrong, other than finding me spiraling over a hunk of metal.
“I think we should talk about this.” His words come out soft, and if I didn’t already feel bad enough, now I feel like the biggest asshole alive. The issue is that though he wishes to fix everything, some things just don’t have a solution, only more problems. I don’t want to talk about my dad, and I can’t admit that without shedding light on it. This is all something I don’t want to deal with right now. Maybe ever.
I gaze into his soft stare and just want to erase the last few minutes. “Nothing to talk about,” I say, leaning across the cab. I grab his face, pulling him in to kiss me and to shut his perfect mouth up. I don’t want a conversation. I don’t want to talk toanyone. I want to hide from my feelings, especially the ones I have and don’t understand with him.
Our tongues caress one another and I melt into his lips. I kiss him harder, considering whether or not I should have him be my distraction.
A clunk sounds within the truck, and we both look at the belt buckle that now lays on the floor. My eyes wander back to him, unsure of how to explain what he’s looking at. He reaches toward it, but my hand beats his there.
“What—” Confusion consumes him like he saw a ghost, and since I refuse to explain this, I decide to leave.
“See you later, Casanova.” I kiss him one last time before removing myself from his cab as fast as I can. Slamming the door and borderline running down the sidewalk, I turn the first chance I get. I was happy to let him distract me, but not if that distraction also means a conversation.
A walk that usually takes me about fifteen minutes is done in under five as I latch my front door behind me, placing my back upon it and sliding down to the floor where I rest my forehead on my knees. That might possibly be the least smooth move I’ve ever made when trying to avoid something. And given that Rhett seems to notice just about everything, it’s as if I’ve just placed a neon sign above my head pointing directly at something I want to pretend never happened.
