Tucker brought the rig to a halt, slumping with tiredness as the engine died—the sudden silence woke Sara.
For the last two hours she’d been sleeping against my shoulder, soft and warm as I wrapped my arm around her protectively.
Her eyes met mine and she smiled, arching her back like a cat.
There was no embarrassment that she’d been using me as a pillow; if anything, she looked pleased with herself.
Then she turned to look out of the window and her eyes glowed with pleasure.
The evening sky blazed pink, purple, orange, turning to a deep blue as the horizon met the Pacific Ocean. The sun was huge and blood red, sinking toward the water as waves rolled restlessly onto the dunes below.
I swung down from the cab, stiff and awkward, then holding out my hand to Sara to help her.
“Beautiful,” she breathed.
I couldn’t help agreeing, but I wasn’t looking at the scenery.
“Aimee and Kes live here?”
“Yep.”
Tucker knocked into my crutch, making me stumble, and I fumed as he slung a casual arm around Sara’s shoulders.
“Kes’s family have wintered here for generations,” he told her. “But he owns this land now. When he and Aimee got together, he wanted to give her somewhere permanent, somewhere she could call home.”
Sara’s expression became wistful. Maybe she was thinking of her own home. The thought was like ground glass in my stomach.
The three RVs rumbled up behind us, bouncing along the potholed road, a cloud of sandy dust billowing around them as they parked a short distance from Kes and Aimee’s log cabin.
Bo came scampering out of Ollo’s RV, climbing up my crutch and sitting on my shoulder, chattering loudly as he tugged at my beard.
“Hey, lil fella. How ya doin’?”
“They sure make a cute couple,” Tucker laughed.
If I’d had a free hand, I’d have given him the finger.
“If your brain was as fast as your mouth, Tucker, it might be waking up to this morning’s breakfast about now.”
“You’re sure gettin’ grumpy in your old age, Zef.”
“Motherfucker! I’m only a year older than you!”
Sara shrugged out from underneath Tucker’s shoulder.
“Stop being mean to him,” she said, giving him a little push. “His leg is hurting.” And she turned to me. “Isn’t it?”
“Yeah, aching somethin’ fierce.”
She came over immediately and put her arm around my waist so I could lean on her.
I raised an eyebrow at Tucker and he gave me a cheesy grin.
Aimee opened up the log cabin while the rest of us took a walk down to the beach to stretch our legs, relieved not to be in an air conditioned cab any longer. She opened her mouth as if she was going to tell me not to attempt it since I was still on crutches, but I ignored the look she gave me. I hated being cooped up.
The air smelled of salt, fresh and clean. My crutches sank into the soft sand, but Sara never left my side and I liked that a lot.
She made me stop twice so she could take pictures, but I didn’t mind that one bit. I was happy to watch her, intensity in her expression as she framed her shot, captivated by whatever she was seeing. It was at times like this that she seemed older than her eighteen years of age. And at times like this it had me hoping for things I had no business hoping for.
Luke, Zach and Ollo collected scrub and driftwood to make a bonfire, and Kes pulled out his phone to call a pizza place in town. We were all hungry and tired, and part of me wished we could stay here for a few days, but we’d be moving on soon, traveling on, because that’s what we did, that was our life.
As the air cooled, we strolled, hopped and walked back to the log cabin.
“What a beautiful place to have a home,” Sara said to Aimee.
“Thank you. But really it’s home for all of us—at least that’s the plan.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, there used to be more log cabins on the site and although some of the older carnies have places in town, when Kes bought the land, we had an idea that one day we’d all build cabins here, too, and maybe another one that we could use as a guest house. A sort of commune for carnies,” and she laughed. “Luke and Zach have nearly finished theirs. They’re hoping to move in by New Year’s.”
“Wow, that’s amazing! What a great idea!”
“I really hope we can make it happen. The last two winters . . . well, it didn’t happen, but maybe this winter . . . Zef was talking about starting to build his cabin, as well. I don’t know if Tucker will now he’s got Tera in Los Angeles. And I think Ollo prefers his RV.”
Aimee shrugged.
“It will always be home if and when the boys want it—they know that.”
Sara’s shoulders sagged and I longed to take the weight of sadness from her.
An hour later, we’d just sat down to pizza when Sara got a call on her cell phone. Her face paled and she murmured a quick apology before she stood up and walked away from the bonfire to take the call.
Aimee watched her leave, then turned her eyes to me.
“Who’s calling her?”
I shrugged.
“You don’t know? She hasn’t told you anything?”
I was annoyed by her tone but I knew that it came from a good place—just a fucking annoying one.
“No, and I’m not asking her. If she wants to talk, she will.”
Aimee shook her head in disappointment.
“You’re supposed to be her friend!”
I saw Kes throw her a warning glance which she either didn’t see or ignored, but it was too late and my temper exploded.
“Stop pushing me, Aimee! You think this is one of your fucking fairytales? You think her happy ending should be with me? Wake the fuck up!”
Kes was on his feet in a second.
“Don’t talk to her like that, man. Just because you’re on crutches, it doesn’t mean I won’t beat the shit out of you!”
“Go ahead, Kestrel,” I spit at him. “Take a swing. If it teaches your wife to keep her fucking mouth shut and stop poking her nose in my business then it’ll be worth . . .”
And that’s when he hit me.
I flailed backwards, tripping over my crutches and landing hard on my back, winded, staring up at the starlit sky.
Aimee was yelling, and Tucker and Zach were each holding Kes’s arms, although he didn’t make any further move to come after me.
As I continued to lay on the ground, furious and guilty, Ollo’s small frame came into view. He stared down at me.
“You deserved that.”
Then he reached out his hand and I grasped it, letting him pull me up. For a short, old guy, he was surprisingly strong.
Aimee was crying now, clinging to Kes while he stared at me stonily. Zach shook his head and Luke looked as if he’d rather be anywhere else. I knew how he felt.
I shook off Ollo’s hand, grabbed my crutches and stumped down to the beach. I heard the rush of light footsteps behind me and Bo’s quiet chirruping distress as he climbed up to sit on my shoulder. He hated noise, hated shouting.
“I guess you’re the only one speaking to me now,” I sighed.
He chattered quietly, tugging my beard.
“Yeah, I know. I’m a prick. I suppose I’ll have to apologize to Aimee, but I really wish that she’d shut the fuck up about me and Sara. I like her, of course I fucking do, but nothing can happen there. I can’t allow it.”
I found a hollow in the dunes and eased myself down, feeling the cool sand under my hands. Bo curled up in my lap and fell asleep listening to the waves lapping against the shore.
A full moon lit the sky and dark clouds sent violet shadows scudding across the reedy grass. Maybe the trickster was out tonight—it would explain why I was acting so crazed.
I leaned back, staring upward, ignoring the trickle of blood that seeped from my nose to my beard. I had a feeling my lip was swelling up, too. I should probably ice it. I should probably do a lot of things differently, but I couldn’t seem to care.
My mind was drifting, self-pity thickening the disgust in my gut, when I noticed a gleam of light further down the beach. After a second, I realized that it must be Sara with her cell phone. She was moving this way and I knew I should let her walk past me, but I didn’t. Couldn’t.
“Sara, you okay?”
She jumped a little when she heard my voice.
“Zef?”
“Over here.”
She changed direction and walked towards me, almost falling over my crutches in the shadowy hollow.
“You okay?”
“I was going to ask you that,” and I wondered if she heard the smile in my voice.
She crouched down next to me and I could see that she was shivering in her thin t-shirt, her bare legs covered in goosebumps.
“C’mere,” I offered, lifting my arm so she could scoot under it.
Bo woke up, chirruping his annoyance at being disturbed, then scampered off.
“Oh! I didn’t mean to upset him!”
“Don’t worry about him—it’s past his bedtime anyway.”
She gave a soft giggle that tugged at my hard heart and snuggled closer.
“Thanks,” she said breathily, pressing her cool skin against the rougher material of my plaid shirt.
“Everything okay . . . with your phone call?”
She didn’t answer.
“If you want to talk, I won’t judge you,” I said quietly. “Hell, I’m the last person who should judge anyone.”
“Why do you talk about yourself like that, Zef? You’re so sweet and kind.”
I gave a hollow laugh.
“I’m really not.”
“You are to me.”
I sighed. “I’m trying not to be, but . . .”
“But?”
“I like you,” I admitted.
“Like me, or like me like me?”
I laughed softly.
“Um, both?”
She turned her head, her lips touching my cheek.
“Good, because I like like you, too.”
Her hand drifted to my chest and I grasped it quickly.
“And the reason I haven’t made a move on you is because you’re a nice girl.”
Her laugh was bitter as she pulled away from me.
“A nice girl? A nice knocked up girl?”
“I don’t care about that.”
“You don’t?”
I could hear the disbelief in her voice.
“I care that it hurts you, that you’re confused about what you want . . .”
“I’m not!”
“That you’ve run away rather than face whatever happened. But you know I don’t think any less of you for that. We’re all travelers here, all moving on, and you’re not the only one who’s running away from something.”
“Are you?”
“Yes and no,” I answered truthfully, then took a deep breath, plunging into the cold waters of the past. “I’m 32 years old, and I’m an ex-con. I did two years in prison for drug dealing. Roy, the guy up in Washington, he was my dealer. And . . . I had a problem with alcohol and drugs. I guess I still do. I was an addict, but I don’t use anymore.”
I felt her body stiffen against me, but she didn’t move away.
“Is that why you wouldn’t take the painkillers the doctor gave you when you sprained your knee?”
I sighed.
“Yeah, I’d probably have been okay, I just didn’t want to risk it. I’m careful. I’ll have a drink sometimes, but never too much, and never two days running. I . . . it’s just for the best.”
She gave a small nod, but wouldn’t meet my eyes.
“I got a reduced sentence because I testified against Roy’s bosses, some real bad people. I couldn’t go home to Savannah when I was released because that could have put my brother in danger, so I just disappeared. I drifted for a while, got day-work where I could. I’m a pretty fair mechanic, so that helped. But not many people want an ex-con working for them, so it was hard. People are always waiting for you to fail. When I fell into a job at the carnival working as a roustabout, no one cared who I was or where I came from.” I smiled to myself. “They weren’t as thorough on criminal background checks as Zach. Kes found me and offered me a job with the Daredevils, like I said. I haven’t looked back. In fact, I’ve made an art out of not looking back.” I paused. “And for all those reasons, a nice girl like you should stay far away from me.”
It was a relief to tell her everything, but now I had to wait for the cards to fall, for the rejection that was certain to follow.
But Sara surprised me again.
“I know.”
“What? What do you know?”
“Most of what you just told me,” she said, her voice a whisper above the waves. “Not all of it, but some. Aimee told me. She could see how I felt about you and she thought I should know. And it’s not what you think, Zef—she really cares about you. She was warning me not to hurt you.”
I blinked, confused by the mind-fuck that had just landed me on my ass. What else had Aimee said while she’d been running her mouth?
“How the hell did she come to that conclusion?”
“She told me about Mirelle.”
Oh.
We sat in silence, the ebb and flow of the ocean reminding me that nothing lasts forever.
“She must have really hurt you . . .”
“Not as much as Aimee thinks. Mirelle and me . . . we were friends of friends, friends who got together once in a while. That’s all.”
“Really? You’re not upset that she’s pregnant?”
Sara wasn’t afraid to ask the hard questions.
“I didn’t like that she was seeing someone else when I thought we were together. I have to be able to trust people . . .” I looked at her sideways, but she was frowning at a small pile of sand trickling through her fingers. “I guess I trusted her more than she deserved.” I shrugged. “She’s Aimee’s friend so I’ll run into her from time to time, but she’s not the woman I’ve been thinking about lately.”
Sara was still staring at the sand, still frowning.
“So . . . you’re mad at her for being pregnant with another man’s child, but you’re not mad at me?”
I didn’t understand her. Why would I be mad at her? I wasn’t fucking her at the time and we weren’t in a relationship. I let my lungs empty, pushing out the air before breathing in deeply, testing the truth of my thoughts.
“I’m pissed at her because she lied to me—but we were never exclusive, not really. When I first saw you, I wanted to protect you and I didn’t want to believe that I was attracted to you because you’re just a kid . . .”
“I’m not!”
“Sara, you were in kindergarten when I was in college. That bothers me.”
“Then get over it! I have.”
I choked on a laugh.
“I don’t care that you’re older than me, and it’s not even that much. You make it sound like you’re ancient, it’s so dumb! Why do you care what anyone thinks?”
Her words made me pause. Why did it bother me so much? It wasn’t her age exactly, it was the fear that I was taking advantage of her. I’d found her homeless and helpless as well as pregnant. Throw in the age difference and she definitely wasn’t thinking straight. So I turned the question around.
“Suppose we’d met somewhere else. Suppose you’re sitting in your hometown coffee shop with your high school friends talking about graduation and college, and I drive up in Zach’s old truck. I’ve got grease under my fingernails and oil stains on my clothes. Say you hear that I’m with the carnival, and a decade-and-a-half older. Maybe you hear rumors that I’m an ex-con. Would you still be interested? Or would you worry what your friends would think, what your family would think? Would you know that it was a really bad idea?”
She shook her head and gave me a small smile.
“I’d still think you were hot.”
“That doesn’t answer the question.”
“I don’t know, Zef. Yes, no, maybe. But we’re not in my hometown and I don’t care what my friends or parents think. I’m living my own life for once and we’re traveling with the carnival together. We’re alone on a beach and I still think you’re the hottest guy I’ve ever met.”
My self-restraint shattered. My flesh demanded, my blood roared, and my body responded.
I pulled her across my hips and she gasped, her knees digging into my ribs, her fumbling fingers anchoring themselves on my shoulders, the short nails digging in, as our mouths met in heat and need, panting like dogs.
My hands cupped her cheeks, crushing my lips beneath hers, growling as she bit my bruised mouth. I knew she tasted my blood but she didn’t stop and I urged her on, letting her cool hands explore my body as she pushed beneath my shirt, scraping her fingers over my chest and stomach, tugging at the hair below my bellybutton, thrusting her hand under the waistband of my jeans.
I was rigid, throbbing from her touch, arching my back so I pushed into her hand. She bit my chest then sat upright, tugging off her tank top and unhooking her bra.
I filled my hands with her breasts and she shivered.
“They’re really sensitive now, because . . . you know,” she whispered, pleasure and pain in her voice.
I leaned up on my elbows, replacing my hands with my tongue, gently biting and sucking her breasts as she rode me through my jeans.
Her skin glowed, pale in the moonlight, and her hair streamed down her back, flowing like quicksilver. Her mouth was open and her eyes were closed as she moved faster and faster. I moved my hands to her hips, anchoring her core against mine and thrusting upward, starved for her touch, hungry for these feelings.
Unzipping her denim shorts, I stroked her smooth belly, then pushed one, work-roughed finger inside her, soaking into the hot, sweet center, coating my hand.
She shuddered and screamed at the moon like a wild animal. She was free and magnificent and utterly unexpected.
Collapsing on my sweat-covered chest, she panted, her breath hot and moist against my neck.
I held my breath, willing myself not to come in my jeans like a teenager. The irony would have made me laugh if it wasn’t so fucking painful.
She gasped a quivering breath and lay quietly, her body softening and relaxing against me.
“Zef, I’m cold.”
My eyes opened reluctantly as I tightened my arms around her. The stars were spiraling slowly, and I judged that we’d been asleep maybe an hour.
I rubbed her back to warm her up. I couldn’t see her bra in the dark, but I found her t-shirt and pulled it over her head.
“Come on, time to go back.”
I wished I could hold her properly but it was impossible given the soft sand and my crutches. Her teeth chattered as we slowly made our way up the beach, and she hugged herself trying to keep warm.
The bonfire was dying down, just a few glowing embers ringed by large pebbles remained, blackened by fire and smoke.
Sara opened the RV’s door and I scrambled up the steps. That was when she saw me in the light for the first time.
“Oh my God! What happened? Did someone hit you?”
“Oh, yeah. Kes. I said some things to Aimee that I shouldn’t. I deserved it.”
“About me?”
I didn’t reply.
She shook her head, her eyes sad, then grabbed a towel and soaked it in cold water, wiping it gently over my face.
It felt good, being looked after, and I closed my eyes, enjoying the moment.
“Will you stay with me tonight?”
I opened my eyes at her question.
“Do you want me to?”
She gave a sly smile.
“Well, it is your room . . .”
I held her hand and kissed it, then reluctantly released her as I hopped along the narrow corridor.
I winced as I removed the leg brace, then undressed slowly, watching her eyes for any sign that she’d changed her mind.
She blinked as I stepped out of my jeans, her eyes darting down to my erection, but she didn’t say anything.
Then she stripped off her own clothes, and I wondered if I’d get any sleep tonight with her naked in her/my bed.
She lay with her head on my shoulder.
“I can hear your heart beating. It sounds so safe.”
“I’ll take care of you, Sara. I promise.”
She was silent for a moment, and when she did speak, I could hear the hesitancy in her voice.
“What was it like? In prison?”
A tremor ran through my body that was part fear, part anger, part reaction to her. I’d hoped never to hear the word ‘prison’ again.
“I don’t like to talk about that,” I said gruffly.
She reacted immediately, stiffening in my arms.
“I’m sorry! I’m really sorry!”
I sighed, running my hand along her waist, enjoying the silky warmth.
“No, I’m being an asshole. Again. It’s just . . . it was . . . bad . . . and I don’t want you to hear about the shit that went on there. I don’t want you to have it inside your head. Anyway, I’m not that person anymore.”
“Okay,” she said in a small voice, which made me feel worse.
I grimaced in the dark and took a deep breath.
“What do you want to know?”
I could hear the rustle of the sheets as she pulled the quilt over one shoulder.
“You said you’re not that person anymore . . .”
“I’m not.”
“What’s changed?”
Her question was so innocent, I almost laughed. Not that prison was anything to laugh at. Everything changed—my whole world.
“It hardens you, and not always in a good way. You have to be as tough and ruthless as the toughest most ruthless bastard in there, or you’re just fresh meat. You have to send a strong signal that you can’t be fucked with.”
The words felt like acid in my mouth and I wished I had a drink.
“I did things that I’m not proud of, fucked up a lot of people, just to survive. You can’t trust anyone: not the guy you share a cell with, not the guards, not the warden, no one. And that gets pretty lonely. You build walls so high, it feels like you’ll never tear them down, and you don’t want to either, because walls protect you.”
“Do . . . do you feel like that . . . with me?”
Her voice was so soft I could barely hear her.
“No, Sara. You took a wrecking ball through those walls. I really should thank you for that.”
She gave a quiet laugh.
“You mean that?”
“Yeah, I do. I trust my brother; I trust Ollo, Kes, Zach, Luke and Tucker; I trust Aimee, Tera and my brother’s girlfriend; and now I trust you. It’s been a work in progress, and it’s taken more than four years, but I guess you could say I trust a lot more people than I ever thought I would.”
I could tell that she had more questions.
“What else do you want to know?”
“It’s a dumb question.”
“There are no dumb questions—didn’t you learn that at school?”
“Was there anything good about prison?”
“That’s a dumb question.”
“Hey!” and she gave me a little push as I laughed.
“Yeah, there was one thing: it made me get straight. No alcohol, weed, coke or crack. Well, hell, you can get all of that shit in prison if you’ve got the right contacts, but I kept to myself and I didn’t want to be in anyone’s debt. So I got straight by default. Best thing that could have happened to me in there.”
I felt her gentle kiss on my cheek.
“I feel like I know you a little better now,” she said. “Thank you for telling me.”
We fell asleep wrapped around each other. I woke once in the night with the realization that she never had told me who’d called her.