Burying Water
Page 23

Jesse doesn’t bother stopping. “You want her to carry them all by herself?”
“I can make two trips,” I call out. Jesse ignores me and keeps heading toward the fence. I’m forced to speed walk—awkwardly—to catch up.
“I should probably bring these up to your place,” he says, throwing his long legs over the old wooden rails.
“That’s fine. I cook dinner there anyway.” Except for a few toiletries, a bag of oatmeal, and a tub of Nutella for Ginny’s daily breakfast and lunch, I would have brought it all up here.
He slows, allowing me to pass and head to my stairs, which are on the back side of the garage and not visible from any part of Ginny’s house.
My skin begins to tingle as I lead Jesse into my apartment. If he feels at all uncomfortable, he doesn’t let on, walking right in until he’s standing in the very center, his eyes taking in the little that I have.
“I’ll pick up a new alternator and get the truck running again for you,” he offers, setting the bags down on the floor by the fridge.
“You know how to fix it?” I ask, grabbing a pot to fill with water for the pasta, hoping it’ll come to a boil by the time I’ve put the groceries away.
“Yeah, I think I can handle it.”
I glance over my shoulder to find him pulling out the blue-and-red plaid wool blanket. “I just got that today. It’s so nice and—”
“Warm,” he finishes for me. I can see his Adam’s apple bob from here. “I used to have one exactly like this.”
“Well, Dakota got a dozen in this week, so you can always pick up another one.” I pull out the small saucepan of pasta sauce and throw it onto the stove, fumbling with the dials. “Thank you for your help with the truck. I’m sure Ginny will appreciate it.” In her own unorthodox way. “Cars are complicated, aren’t they? All those parts to figure out. It’s like science.”
I hazard another glance over my shoulder and find Jesse staring at me, his head cocked to the side and a strange look on his face. What is it, exactly? Wonder? Curiosity? His attention shifts to my scar and I duck my head back toward the stove, letting my hair fall to veil it. “Any chance you’ll be able to fix it before ten tomorrow morning?” I ask, half-jokingly, as I stir.
“You’ve gotta be somewhere by then?”
“Yeah, at The Salvage Yard. I work there.”
“How do you like it?”
“It’s good. Dakota’s really nice.”
“She is. I remember her from high school. I don’t know if she actually ever went to class, though. She just sat up on the hill, smoking weed most of the time.”
“I think she still does that, just not on a hill,” I joke.
The floor creaks with his approaching footsteps until he’s standing directly behind me, setting my hair on end.
“How are you liking it here, Water?” he finally asks.
“It’s great. The mountains, the town, your family. Even Ginny. It’s all great.” What must he think of me? I keep my eyes on the stove as I ask, “How much do you know? About what happened to me?” I still get a lump in my throat when I talk about it. I don’t even have to get into specifics.
“I know enough.” Sizzles sound from the stove as water begins bubbling and spilling over. “It smells good.” Jesse takes a step closer and reaches around me to lift the lid. I glance up to catch a wistful smile touch his lips. “I should go. God knows Ginny will skin me alive if she knows I’m in here.”
“And me too, for letting you in,” I agree.
I watch his back as he strolls out, a pang of something curling around my heart.
Wondering why I reacted to his proximity like that.
Wondering if it should have bothered me.
Wondering why it doesn’t.
“Where have you been?” Ginny’s voice gets exceptionally screechy when she’s upset. It’s not pleasant.
I check my watch. “I’m only two minutes late, Ginny. Come on.”
She swats the air. “I don’t care about dinner. I’ve been sitting here, waiting for the truck to pull up for forty-five minutes. I thought something had happened to you!”
“Oh.” I sigh with relief. And then I smile. Ginny was worried about me.
Someone is worried about me.
“What the hell are you so happy about?”
“Nothing, it’s just . . .” I stifle my smile. “The truck broke down. It just died.”
“Oh.” She pauses, and then turns to the empty driveway, puzzled. “How’d you get home then? Did Gabe come get you?”
I open my mouth to answer, wondering if it’s better to lie. But lying to Ginny just doesn’t feel right, with all she has done for me. “Actually, Jesse was driving by so he gave me a ride.”
The way Ginny gasps, you’d think someone had just informed her that a loved one had died in a fiery plane crash.
And I start to think I should have lied.
“I knew I heard that car of his!”
“He’s going to fix your truck and bring it back for us, Ginny. He was really nice to me.”
I can hear her teeth grind against each other. “I told you to stay away from that damn boy. He’s trouble.”
“Would you rather I still be walking home alone right now, carrying all those bags?”
“You could have called Gabe and Amber.”
“My phone died.”
“Well, what’s the point of having a phone then, huh?” she barks.
“He was really nice, Ginny, and he’s going to fix the truck for us,” I repeat calmly, adding a smile. That’s how I’ve noticed Meredith deals with her. I think it’s the only way to deal with Ginny. “I’m guessing it wouldn’t be cheap to fix. And tow to a mechanic.” I know I can’t afford to fix the truck on my nine-dollars-an-hour cash wage. From what Meredith has said, Ginny lives on a modest monthly budget, thanks to an inheritance from her parents and her quilt sales.
“No . . . I suppose not,” she mutters, scooping up some of the pasta. The words carry their usual snip, but there’s no heat in them anymore. She allows me to ladle the sauce onto her plate, though her fingers twitch the entire time. “I don’t want to see him on my property.”
I nod. There are just some things Ginny’s better off not knowing. She didn’t see him on her property anyway, so technically it’s okay.
Wanting to steer her away from the topic, I say, “So I met Chuck Fanshaw today. He said to tell you ‘hi’ from his family.”
“Oh, I’ll bet he did,” she grumbles. “His grandfather showed up here a month after Papa died, trying to scam me out of this place. Chased him away.”
My gaze shifts to the straw broom resting by the door. She was ten seconds away from swatting the cable guy with it that day he arrived to hook up my cable. I know it’s not just a figure of speech for Ginny.
Though I know I’m going to regret this, I bring it up anyway. “He mentioned boarding horses in the barn. Have you ever considered that?”
“And have people traipsing all over my property? Over my dead body.” She shovels a mouthful of pasta into her mouth.
I shrug. “You’d also have horses running in the corrals. Wouldn’t that be nice to see again?”
I get a harrumph in response, but it’s better than a litany of cursing, so I leave it alone.
“What else did the little Fanshaw say?”
Her reference to Chuck being “little” makes me smile. He’s at least six feet tall and two hundred pounds. “Basically that I should swindle you out of your vast fortune by getting on your good side.”
Her hand freezes midway to her mouth for one . . . two . . . three seconds. And then Ginny does something I’ve never seen her do before. She starts to laugh.
We eat the rest of our dinner in comfortable silence, with no more mention of “that damn boy” next door.
TWENTY-ONE
Jesse
then
Heels click against the garage floor, pulling my attention from the engine. I swing around.
And suck in a mouthful of air.
She’s wearing the same short, sparkly blue dress that she wore the night I met her at the lounge. I remember thinking she looked cheap then. I’m still not crazy about the dress, but I’d never call her cheap now.
“Hi, Jesse.”
With her bright red lipstick, the fat lip she had three nights ago isn’t visible. But I know it was there, and I’m still angry about it.
Viktor’s been around the house for the last two nights, so Alex has stayed away. Or maybe she would have anyway. It’s probably best. If I had to look at that lip while working on this engine of his, I probably would have taken a blowtorch to his Shelby. Still, three days without seeing her has only emphasized for me how much I like being around her.
“The door into the mudroom is unlocked if you need to use the bathroom. The gate is set to open automatically from the inside. Just remember to shut this door when you leave, okay?”
“Where are you going?”
“The Cellar.”
I glance at my watch. “It’s only nine thirty.”
She shrugs. “Viktor called. He wants me there earlier, so I have to go earlier.”
“Just like that?”
She smiles sadly. “Just like that.” She hasn’t been sleeping well; I can tell by the makeup caked on around her eyes, which does a poor job of masking the dark circles.
“That getup . . .” I jut my chin toward her dress. “I know that’s not you.” I know it’s all part of her façade for her husband.
She shakes her head, her hands stretching out the hem to show me even more of her long, lean legs. “I hate this dress, but wearing it makes things easier for myself.”
“I wouldn’t make you wear that shit,” I hear myself say. I don’t know where that came from but now that it’s out, I can’t stop. “I’d let you dye your hair whatever color you wanted. I’d let you shave it off; I’d let you wear men’s sweatpants. I’d do anything I could to keep you in school. I’d never leave you alone in the dark.” My eyes settle on that lip again, the truth hidden by a streak of red. “I’d never lay a hand on you. Not like that, anyway.”
Alex’s chest rises and falls with deep, shaky breaths as her eyes turn glassy. I glance down at my hands to confirm the grease. As much as I want to, I can’t touch her right now. But she can touch me. And she does, lifting her hand to graze the back of my cheek with her knuckles. “I know you wouldn’t, Jesse,” she whispers. “If I don’t see you when we get home, then have a good night.”
I watch her walk toward her car, her calf muscles straining against the height of those heels.
I’d kill to be back in that pricey hotel room again.
Time escapes me.
Really, it’s the thrill of turning the key in the ignition for the first time, the satisfaction that I’ve put all these pieces of metal and rubber together in just the right way, that has kept me here so late. That’s why I’m sitting in the driver’s side of the Aston Martin in Viktor’s garage when I hear Alex’s engine revving. Her headlights hit me as she races up the driveway.
I hold off, wanting to see her face when I start this car, curious about what she’ll say. Unfortunately, the engine cuts off and Viktor climbs out of the driver’s seat. My disappointment swells. It’s stupid, really. This is his car. He’s the one who needs to be excited.
“Jesse! What are you still doing here?”
Though it’s not obvious with his accent, I’m pretty sure he’s slurring. I answer him by turning the key. The engine fires instantly.
Viktor’s mouth drops open and a stupid grin stretches across his face. Behind him, Alex steps out of the passenger seat, her face pale, her eyes lined with smeared makeup. Stumbling forward, Viktor slaps the roof of the car and nods slowly. “You are a hard worker.”
Not sure what to say to that, I simply shut the engine off.
“So, is it done?”
“Just about. It’ll be ready to go to your body shop by tomorrow tonight.”
“Perfect. I can send it away just before I leave for St. Petersburg. Did you hear that, Alexandria? My car is almost finished.”
Viktor is going to Russia. That’s news to me. Is Alex going with him?
“That’s wonderful, Viktor.” She gives him a weak smile.
He looks back at me and rolls his eyes. “Tomorrow, then.” Without waiting for my answer, he walks back out, grabbing the back of Alex’s neck on the way. There’s nothing about it that looks gentle or loving.
I take a step forward but her hand lifts, palm out, quietly telling me to stay put. “Come, my wife. Your husband works so hard for you. Time to make him happy.”
I grit my teeth as I watch them disappear around the corner. The front door slams a few seconds later. I can’t pack up my shit fast enough. Slapping my fist against the garage door button, I’m gone in under two minutes. I have a good idea of what’s happening upstairs right now.