Celia saw me stumble back into the diner after I slapped Michael. The sting on my fingers was fierce. I must have hit him pretty hard.
“What’s happened?” Celia tried to approach me, but I backed away, shaking my head. “You not feeling well? Aw, honey, you go on and rest. I can close up for the afternoon.”
I didn’t argue with her.
She thinks I’m sick. Well, maybe I am.
Heartsick.
My stomach’s been wrenching and writhing ever since finding out the truth.
Michael betrayed us. Played me like a fool.
I believed every kiss. Every sweet word. But it was all just a ruse to steal from me.
A fresh tear trickles down my cheek. I don’t bother brushing it away. Let it stick to my skin and start itching. I don’t care anymore.
The apartment door slams shut, and I flinch, hoping it’s not Dean.
But the stomping steps are too small for his big boots, and I know it’s Jackson before I see him.
He screeches to a halt in my doorway, his face puckered with annoyance. He’s soaked through, his hair slicked against his cheek, water dripping off his chin.
“Thanks a lot, Annie! You couldn’t even meet me at the bus with an umbrella? Fat lot of good this stupid jacket’s done me in rain like this. I—” His head jolts back, his anger disintegrating. “What’s wrong?” Flinging the bag off his back, he dumps it on the floor and rushes around the bed. “Was Dean mean to you again?”
“No. I’m fine.” I murmur, wiping my cheeks and trying to smile.
It doesn’t work. My lips are too heavy to rise.
Jackson scoffs. “You’re not fine! You shouldn’t be saying that all the time when it’s a lie!”
“I’m fine!” My head jerks in his direction, my voice breaking as I scream the words. “I have to be! What choice do I have?”
Jackson’s eyes bulge and he scoots back until he hits the wall, his little mouth pinching with fear.
My shoulders sag and I let out a soft whimper. “I’m sorry.”
“Do you want me to get Michael?”
“Michael’s gone.”
“What? No he’s not.” Jackson bolts up straight. “He wouldn’t just leave without saying goodbye.”
I stare down at my empty jar, avoiding my brother’s intense stare. My insides are numb and cold. “I made him go.”
“Why?”
“Because he—”
“Why do you always push people away?” Jackson’s little arms flick up, the anger back on his face. “He was good to us! He liked us. He could’ve saved us.”
“He wasn’t. He couldn’t! He was using us! He—”
“No! I won’t believe that! I won’t!” Jackson stomps his foot, pointing at me. “You probably said somethin’ real mean to him and made him want to go. Why can’t you just hold your tongue, Annie Mae?”
The words are like a whip against my heart.
My own brother. The one I’ve been doing everything to protect is turning on me.
Venom spikes through my system, my tongue ready to unleash a little hell, tell him exactly the kind of crap I’ve been putting up with so he won’t get hurt. But I clamp my teeth together and let him sprint out of my room.
I don’t call him, follow him, try to make him understand.
The front door slams shut with a force that shakes the walls, and I slump back against my wet pillow, clutching that stupid jar and feeling the fight slip right out of me.
I’ve got nothing left.
Hell, the way I’m feeling right now, I might as well resign myself to a life of purgatory. Slaving away for Dean and getting treated like Buckland Springs’s personal piece of trash.
39
Channeling a Little Deeks
I wait for the rain to ease before slipping out of the garage. I’ve packed up my stuff, shoved the little possessions I’ve collected on top of that money. Resting the wad of Annie’s money on the desk beside the bed, I slip out the door and head for the main road.
Jackson got home a few minutes ago. I saw him storming through the rain with an angry scowl. It was a pretty cute sight, and I probably would have chuckled if I hadn’t been feeling so rotten.
Annie’s slap still stings. I brush my fingers down my cheek. The physical pain has gone, but my insides are raw and hurting.
How do I leave her?
How do I explain?
She won’t want to hear a word I say.
She knows I’m a thief now, and she’s obviously repulsed by it.
When I think about how hard she works for the meager money she earns, I get why.
I always took the easy option. Steal and split. That was my MO.
Annie’s too good to think that way.
Hitching my bag onto my shoulder, I walk past the diner, my boots crunching on the loose gravel of the driveway.
Hopefully after Annie’s calmed down, she’ll check on the office and see the money I left her. None of it belongs to Sloan. I didn’t want her having one bill of dirty money. That wad of cash is everything I earned while working at the diner. It’s not much, but I took on double shifts when I could. Mostly to be near Annie for longer, but also to scrape together a few more pennies for her.
I wanted to do anything I could to help get her away from this place.
Shit, I wanted to take her with me. But she’s not going anywhere with me now.
As I trudge out of Buckland Springs, I try to figure out what to do. I should return this damn money to Sloan. Mail it back to him so I can be free to start earning honest money. Money I’ve had to work for.
There’s no way I can start the ranch back up empty-handed. I’m going to need to work my way back to Montana. Who knows how long it’ll take me, but I have to do this right.
Live justly.
That’s what Grandpa would want me to do.
And Annie.
And myself.
No more of this bullshit criminal life.
I need to be the kind of man worthy of Annie.
Right now, I’m not.
Raising my chin, I stare down the road ahead, determination firing through me.
But I can be.
I will be that man.
“Starting now,” I whisper, spinning on my heel as an idea lights my brain.
I can’t leave Annie unprotected. Someone has to know the truth.
Running back down the road, I head straight for the police station and race up the steps to the bright blue door.
I push it open and scan the small space, smiling at the receptionist behind the desk.
“Can I help you?” Her big eyes are curious, and I can immediately sense that I’m interacting with a town gossip.
“Yeah.” I clear my throat. “I need to speak with Chief Keyes.”
She eyes me dubiously but then nods and reaches for her phone. She hasn’t even gotten it to her ear when Hank pops his head out of his office door.
“Afternoon, Michael. Something I can help you with?”
“Yes, sir.” I head for his door and rest my bag against the wall, nerves firing through me as I slip into the chair he offers me.
He takes a seat behind his desk, his keen eyes stripping the flesh off my face. He seems pleased to see me, obviously expecting me to spill it all right now.