CHAPTER SEVEN

 

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TRAVIS RACED THE bike up the mountain road, controlling the powerful machine with practiced ease. Behind him, Delaney held on tight, her laughter about the sweetest sound he'd ever heard.

Slowing down, he turned off the pavement onto dirt and gravel. The back wheel fishtailed, but Travis regained control quickly.

"Don't worry," Travis yelled over his shoulder when Delaney squeezed him harder. "I won't let anything happen to you."

"I know."

A simple response, but filled with absolute conviction. Only human—a teenager through and through—Travis felt a flash of pride. Followed by a warm glow that spread over his body.

Delaney trusted him.

Not completely. Not with her deepest secrets. However, the fact that she was sitting behind him was a huge step. A few months ago, she never would have agreed, let alone made the suggestion. Progress, indeed.

Travis couldn't pinpoint the exact moment when the thick walls she'd built around herself had lowered enough to let him in. Slowly. Steadily. Their casual conversations had taken on a deeper meaning.

If not with words, then the way she could look him in the eyes without hesitation. Or the smile on her lips when she didn't know he watched.

And, Travis could say without hesitation—the feeling of ease went both ways.

Another turn, then one more, Travis brought the bike to a stop.

"What a beautiful spot. How did you know it was here?"

"A few years ago, Dad and I were up here doing a job. On the way home, we had a flat. Changing a tire is pretty much a one-man job. So, to pass the time, I took a walk. My wandering brought me here."

In the center of the small, secluded area was a grass-covered hill perfect for a person to sit and think. Or take a nap. Or simply stare at the sky. Since that day, Travis had come back to do all three—depending on his mood.

However, he'd always come alone. Until Delaney.

"I feel like we're surrounded by an oasis. Without the sand. Or palm trees."

Chuckling, Travis swung his leg over the bike, removing his helmet. Delaney's observations weren't so far off from his thoughts the first time he walked into the clearing.

"No camels either. Sorry."

"Too bad. If there were camels, we wouldn't be in South Carolina."

Travis couldn't miss the touch of wistful longing that filled Delaney's voice.

"You want to be someplace else?"

"I want a lot of things." Delaney removed her helmet, setting it on the seat of the bike. "And one day, I'll get them."

No longer wistful, Delaney sounded determined, a touch of unexpected steel entering her tone. Travis understood need. Want and desperation were his old friends. The feelings burned in his gut 24/7.

Delaney knew Travis' plans. Hell, the entire town of Green Hills knew. But she hadn't shared what she wanted after they graduated. And because she always tensed up when their conversations turned too personal, he hadn't asked.

Travis was tired of pussyfooting around. They were friends. Delaney trusted him not to smash her body into a million pieces. Why shouldn't she trust him with her dreams?

"What do you want to do with your life, Del?"

As she turned her head, her eyes met his. Purple. Dark. Intense.

"I want to live."

For a moment, Travis didn't think Delaney meant to elaborate. She slowly walked around the clearing, her fingers lightly dancing over a patch of wildflowers.

Delaney looked a fraction of her age, like a little girl in the middle of playing dress-up. The leather jacket he'd loaned her was three sizes too big, hanging loose on her slight frame. And though the hem of the blue jeans hit her several inches above her ankles, the waist gaped a bit, her slim hips not close to filling out the denim in the same way as the original owner.

However, when she reached up, loosening her hair until the long, dark locks fell free down her back, Travis caught a glimpse of who she'd be a few years down the road.

Her face bathed in the late afternoon sun, he knew that with a little seasoning—a touch of experience to add interest to her still maturing countenance—Delaney would turn heads in every room she entered.

Striking more than beautiful. Something about her would demand a second look. Then a third.

Like him—at this moment—nobody would be able to take their eyes off her.

"I want to wake up every morning free to make my own decisions. Free to wear what I want. Eat what I want. Talk to whomever I want." Delaney sighed. "I want…"

"Freedom?" Travis teased. Didn't all kids want to do whatever they wanted?

Instead of the answering smile he expected, Delaney's expression turned grave—deadly serious.

"Yes."

Then, before Travis could respond, her face cleared, light replacing dark.

"The clothes?" Delaney slipped off the jacket, swinging it back and forth on her outstretched hand. "Where did you get them?"

"They were in the saddle bags on my bike."

"Ah," Delaney said as if she suddenly understood everything.

Normally, Travis enjoyed when a twinkle entered Delaney's gaze. But not this time.

"Whatever you think you know, you're wrong." He found himself on the defensive, and not happy to be there. "You aren't the first girl to ride behind me on my bike."

Delaney's lips twitched, obviously enjoying Travis' discomfort.

"You sent her home naked?"

"No." Travis snatched the jacket from Delaney. "She'd consumed a little too much beer." A lot of beer, if Travis' memory served him right. "We—and some friends—went swimming. She had her bathing suit on under her clothes. We argued. She chose to ride home with somebody else."

"Without her clothes?"

"You're awfully inquisitive today." Unusual for Delaney. A sudden thought hit Travis, one that put a smile back on his lips. "If I tell you the whole story, will you answer a few questions of mine?"

"Sure."

"Really?"

"However, I reserve the right not to answer."

He should have known there would be a catch. Perhaps Delaney dreamed of becoming a lawyer. The way her mind worked certainly seemed suited to the profession.

"Tell you what." Travis took his usual seat. On the hill. In the shade of an old oak tree. He patted the ground, an invitation for Delaney to join him. "I'll finish my story about the jacket and jeans. Then you can tell me about your plans after we graduate next month."

Delaney sank to the ground, her legs crossed. She wore a t-shirt—a spare Travis always carried with him. Baggy as her everyday dresses, at least she'd knotted the ends at her waist.

"What my plans are? Nothing else?"

"I have a million questions." Travis relaxed on the ground, his hands behind his head. "We'll start with that one."

Delaney copied him, so they were lying side by side.

"Okay. You first."

"The first week in April a few of us went out to Dawson's Pond. The weather had turned warm, around eighty degrees."

"I remember."

"I gave Meg Drake a ride."

"Is she your girlfriend?"

"She's a girl who's a friend."

"Semantics."

"Fact," Travis corrected.

When Delaney laughed, Travis closed his eyes and recounted the story of what started out as a casual get-together. After too much beer, Meg decided to jump in the pond even though everybody else decided the water was too cold.

"She managed to take off her clothes. But the second she hit the water, the beer hit her—hard. She tried to kiss me. I held her off. There were tears. And a lot of screaming about God only knows what. Meg ended up going home with Stacy Prescott, I ended up with Meg's clothes."

"And you still have them."

"Mm." Travis ran a hand over his face. "Kind of a complicated situation."

"You take the clothes and hand them back. What's complicated about that?"

"How much experience do you have dealing with emotional teenage girls?"

The second the words were out of his mouth, Travis wished them back. Delaney was a loner—whatever the reasons. Through sheer stubbornness, he'd pulled her partially out of the shadows. He looked forward to the time they spent together.

Snarky comments about her lack of friends was a great way to ruin the progress they had made.

To Travis' surprise, Delaney didn't take offense.

"I may not be friends with any teenage girls. But I am one."

"You aren't like other girls."

"Thanks a lot," Delaney said with a rueful chuckle.

"Believe me, I just paid you a huge compliment." Rolling to his side, Travis propped his head on his hand, his gaze on Delaney's relaxed face. "I can talk to you without worrying about the usual crap."

"You mean you aren't attracted to me?"

"No. Not that you aren't pretty," he hastened to assure her.

"Relax, Travis." Delaney turned. Calm and clear, her eyes met his. "We work as friends because neither of us wants anything more."

Travis relaxed. He would have bet almost anything that he and Delaney were on the same page. To hear her confirm his belief was a huge relief.

"Meg wouldn't take back her clothes," he continued with his story. "I planned on leaving her stuff in her locker, but time passed, and I never got around to it.

"Why wouldn't she take her clothes?"

"I don't know."

"Sure you do," Delaney said. "As long as you have her jacket and jeans, she thinks she has a hold on you. Superficial or not. Throw them in the trash—after I'm done with them. End of story."

"Shouldn't I give Meg another chance? The jacket is leather."

"Nope. Make a clean break. If you don't, Meg will continue to think she has a chance. Unless you want her?"

"I don't want anybody. Not now. Not until I know my career has taken off."

"There you go."

"How come you're so smart about this boy/girl stuff?"

"I read. A lot."

Travis nodded. "Psychology books?"

"Some. But you would be amazed what goes on in YA romance novels."

"You're kidding."

"Don't look so surprised. There are some really good writers out there. Mostly they teach me what not to do. And how not to act."

"You give good advice

The light in Delaney's eyes dimmed.

"Advice is easy when somebody else's problems are involved."

"I might not have the answers you need, but I can listen."

Slowly, Delaney shook her head. Her lips curved upward, but the smile didn't reach her eyes.

"Thank you, Travis. But no."

Travis would have argued if he thought his words would do any good. Since he knew better, he dropped the subject. For now.

"I shared my tale. Your turn. What are your post-graduation plans?"

"Promise not to tell anyone?"

Intrigued, Travis perked up.

"Secrets? Count me in."

Delaney raised a brow and waited.

"I promise, Del. My lips are sealed." Travis made his point by locking his lips with a turn of his wrist and throwing away the imaginary key.

"I was accepted at the University of Hawaii. The offered me a full-ride scholarship."

"Congratulations." Confused, Travis frowned. "Why is your choice of school a secret?"

"My stepfather wants me to attend someplace closer."

A full-ride and Hawaii? Delaney's smarts had truly paid off. Big time.

"Screw someplace closer. Your stepfather is crazy."

"Yes," Delaney nodded, looking into space. "Crazy about sums him up."

"Del…"

She jumped to her feet. "I better get going. Mom expects me for dinner, and she tends to worry."

"Sure."

Travis walked to where he parked his bike, handing Delaney her helmet and borrowed jacket. Taking his seat, he turned the ignition. The motor coughed but started without too much fuss. He waited for Delaney to join him. When her arms were around his waist, he raised the kickstand.

"Delaney," he said, worried by the direction their conversation had taken. "You won't let anything—anybody—stop you from going to Hawaii. Will you?"

Though Delaney's voice was low and the engine loud, Travis had no problem hearing her. Or the steely determination that punctuated each word as she tightened her grip.

"Munch is used to getting his way. But not this time."

 

"WHERE HAVE YOU been?"

Delaney had expected her mother to meet her at the door. Dressed in her own clothes, her hair in a neat ponytail. No clues remained to the hours she'd spent with Travis.

"At school. You know how I get when I play. All sense of time shoots out the window."

The lie fell easily from her lips. Her mother might think she wanted the truth. However, for both their sakes, the less Alma knew, the better.

"He has people watching, Laney."

Whispered, as if the walls of the house had ears, Alma's words sent a frigid shiver down Delaney's spine. She knew that Munch had spies. Green Hills was thick with his family members. Not to mention the innumerable people in debt to the Brills. Or who took a few bucks every week under the table. Their job? Keep a close eye on their neighbor's comings and goings.

Delaney and Alma weren't the only people who interested the Brill family. They kept a close watch on the town. Adultery. Theft. The more unsavory the offense, the better.

The mayor used the information to solidify his hold on the office. The sheriff did the same. Munch didn't worry about leaving town. If Alma or Delaney made a false step, he'd find out soon enough.

Heat replaced the cold down Delaney's spine, suffusing her blood. She was so tired of living in fear. Tired. Period.

"Let's leave."

"What?" Alma gasped, clutching the dishtowel that seemed permanently glued to her hand.

"Grab a bag. We'll ask Mrs. Thomas to drive us to the Greyhound station in Billings. From there, we can go anywhere we want."

"We can't."

Alma rushed down the hall toward her only refuge—the kitchen. Delaney was right behind her.

"We can. I have some money."

For years, Delaney had saved every penny she could get her hands on. Munch wasn't very good at keeping track of how much cash he had in his wallet at any given time. And Delaney didn't feel an ounce of remorse stealing a dollar—or five—any chance she had.

Under the loose board in her closet sat a roll of bills. Almost six hundred in cash. Not a fortune. But enough to give them a good head start.

"No. He'll find us. He always knows, Laney. Always."

Alma checked the casserole in the oven, her hands visibly shaking. Worried she might burn herself, Delaney removed their dinner before leading her mother to the table. Gently—but firmly—she sat her down.

"I'm not a little girl like the last time, Mom. If Munch comes after us, we can fight back. Scream, if nothing else. He can't make us come back."

"Yes, he can. He'll have me locked away."

"Away? Where?"

"State mental hospital."

"Mom—"

"I've seen the papers, Laney." Alma clutched at Delaney, her eyes wild with fear. "They're already signed by Munch and his uncle in the next county. All Judge Brill has to do is date and file them."

Delaney could feel the fear radiating from her mother. And she didn't blame her. Munch wasn't above committing his wife.

"As soon as we cross the South Carolina state line, we'll go to a women's shelter." Delaney had done her research. "They won't send you back to an abusive husband. And they have lawyers who will help."

Furiously shaking her head, Alma wheezed, unable to fully catch her breath.

"No place is safe. No place is safe."

Tears ran down Alma's face. Delaney fell to her knees, drawing her mother close.

"Shh," she crooned. "Everything will be all right."

"We'll stay? Promise?"

"Everything will be all right."

As she wiped her mother's cheeks, Delaney accepted what deep down she'd always known. Alma was too afraid to run. Too beaten down. Her prison had become her home, and she couldn't imagine life outside the bar-free doors.

Delaney swallowed, fighting back a few tears of her own. When she left Green Hills—and she was more determined than ever to get away—she'd leave alone.