Page 28 of The Lucky Heart (Jamison Valley 3)
I would not run. Not again.
I was not my father.
Hank Cleary had been a coward. When I’d been six, he’d moved to Billings without much of an explanation. Jess and I theorized that he’d gotten tired of caring for Mom. Regardless, his leaving had broken our mother’s heart and made Jess the head of our house at eight years old.
I hardly remembered Hank now. He could pass me on the street and I wouldn’t recognize him. He had been forgotten. Unfortunately, the damage he’d caused wasn’t as easy to erase.
Over twenty-five years later, Mom’s heart was still broken, Jess had a compulsive need to be in charge, and I was still trying to shed my mask of indifference.
It wasn’t an easy task.
I had spent far too long learning to guard my heart. I was a master at pretending I was fine on my own. I was famous for striking back with attitude whenever I felt pain. And I had become an expert at leaving others before they could leave me.
Now that one was ironic.
Spring. Sixteen years earlier . . .
“Silas?”
“Yeah?” His voice was rough with sleep.
“Can you come get me?”
“Where are you?” he asked as clothes rustled in the background.
“At the farm. Out by the old green barn.”
“You okay?”
“No.” My chest heaved and the angry tears flowed freely now.
“Hold tight. I’ll be right there,” he said, slamming the door of his truck. “What happened?”
I took a calming breath and wiped the tears away. “Wes wanted to have a bonfire. He said it could be my pre-graduation party except he invited all of these random people and none of my friends. Then this group of guys came and they gave me the creeps.”
“Who were they?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never seen them before. But one of them brought some meth. And Wes . . .” I trailed off as my emotions swelled again.
“Lis,” Silas said gently, “take another breath.”
My whole body shook as I pulled in some air. “He’s been doing drugs this whole time and hiding it from me. Ever since that first night. These guys that came were his druggie friends.”
“Fuck,” Silas hissed.
Wes had been acting strange lately, distant and grouchy. I had thought it was because I’d been talking about leaving Prescott for college and he was bitter that I might actually escape. Nope. It had been because he’d been trying to hide his drug habit. “We got in this big fight and I tried to leave but he wouldn’t give me his keys.”
“Where is he?”
“Still at the bonfire. I came into the barn to call you. I can’t believe this is happening.”
“Just breathe,” Silas said. “I’m on the highway. Ten more minutes and you’re out of there.”
If Silas was ten minutes away, he was flying down the road. The Drummond farm was miles outside of Prescott in the opposite direction from the Grants’ ranch and the drive normally took half an hour.
“This is all my fault,” I whispered. Wes wasn’t completely to blame. He’d only ever tried meth because last fall I had wanted to do something wild and crazy.
“It’s not. This was his choice.”
