Page 97 of Highball Rush
With a roar that made me take a step backward, he balled his fist and slammed it against the wooden beam. His knuckles came up bloody.
“What are you trying to do?” I asked, my tone of voice still not changing. “Scare me? Make me leave you alone? Or are you just so mad you don’t even know?”
He whipped around and if human eyes could glow red, his would have. His jaw was tight, the cords standing out in his neck. “Get the fuck out.”
I didn’t move. Didn’t take my eyes off him. He was going to apologize for that later, but right now, he wasn’t going to ruffle me. Had it been any other man in the world, I probably would have backed off, just in case he snapped and I’d underestimated what he was capable of. I wasn’t stupid. He was a lot stronger than me, especially with all that adrenaline coursing through his veins.
But I wasn’t backing down. Not from Gibson Bodine. Because even though he was out of control with rage, I still trusted him.
“You need to be real careful what you say to me right now, Gibson Bodine.”
“Or what?”
“Or you’re going to have to live with what happens next.”
He put his back to me again, his hands gripping the railing. Blood ran down his fingers, but I doubted he could feel it yet.
“Just leave me the fuck alone.”
I sighed. “What are you even mad about? Did something happen that you’re not telling me?”
“No.”
“Then what?” I said, finally raising my voice. “What has you so out of control you’re shouting at me and telling me to leave?”
“I don’t know,” he barked and suddenly his shoulders dropped, his aggressive posture softening. He looked down at his hand, spreading his fingers, as if he’d just realized he’d hurt himself.
“Why are you mad?” I asked again, softly this time.
He stood there for a long moment, breathing hard. Leaning against the railing, his back to me. When he finally spoke, his voice was a normal volume. “Because I spent thirteen years thinking you were dead. Because my father knew the truth. Because he was a shit father to us, but for some reason he decided to be your goddamn hero.”
I stayed quiet, waiting. I knew he wasn’t finished.
“Don’t get me wrong, if he was going to do one good thing in his life, I’m glad it was saving you. It’s hard to feel anything good for that man, but I’m grateful he helped you. I just don’t understand why. Why did he go so far out of his way to help a girl he barely knew when he couldn’t even parent his own kids worth a damn?”
I stared at his back, my heart breaking for him. He didn’t know. But how could he? I kept avoiding the memories of that night, assuming everyone understood what had happened well enough that I didn’t need to spell it out. His father had never told him the truth, and neither had I.
“He did it to protect you, Gibs.”
He looked at me over his shoulder, a deep furrow in his brow. “What?”
I took a deep breath, reaching into the box in my mind. Drawing out the memory. This part was clear, the details sharp even after thirteen years.
“When he found me on the side of the road, I was heading to your place. I was running to you.” I balled my hands into fists to keep them from shaking. I felt myself teetering between Callie and Maya again. “When he stopped, I told him where I was going. I asked him to take me to you. He said no.”
“Why?”
“He said he was afraid of what you’d do if you saw me like that. He told me he was sorry, but he couldn’t let you do something stupid and go to prison for the rest of your life. That’s why he helped me. Why he kept me hidden and got me out of town in secret.”
“I don’t believe that,” he said, but there was a quaver in his voice. He turned to face me. “He didn’t take your secret to his grave because of me. He walked by your missing-persons posters every goddamn day, and he knew you were alive. He was hearing from you with those damn postcards. He didn’t keep his mouth shut for me. He helped a teenage girl run away and he didn’t want to get in trouble for it.”
“He kept my secret for so long for many reasons, Gibs. Yeah, maybe one of them was to keep out of trouble. And he understood that my father was dangerous. After your mom died… That had to have kept him quiet, too.”
He shook his head and glanced away. “That’s what Jenny said. He told her it wasn’t an accident, but she didn’t know whether to believe him.”
“See, he was protecting his family. And I’m telling you, right here and now, the reason he helped me in the first place was you. That was why he put me in his truck and hid me in that shack for the night. And why he convinced your mama to come out with bandages and blankets. Why he drove me all the way to New York in secret while the whole town was looking for me. A little piece of it was to help a girl in trouble. But really, he did all that for you. He did it to protect his son.”
Gibson’s expression changed, his anger crumbling to pieces. His stormy eyes revealed the depth of his pain. A boyish innocence and desire for love long since crushed.
