Split(48)

Lucas is unstable.

There’s no denying it.

As much as he should terrify me, he doesn’t, and that’s what worries me most.





SIXTEEN



SHYANN


It’s Friday afternoon. I’m sitting at my desk sorting new bids and am antsy as hell. It’s been exactly one week since Lucas—more accurately Gage—kissed me outside Pistol Pete’s and four days since I’ve seen him at all. I’ve thought about going down to the river house and checking on him, use food as an excuse, bring dog food for his porch-dwelling pet, claim I have some important message from my dad, but I hold back.

He gave me the impression he needed space, and I don’t blame him. I can’t imagine what it would be like to wake up and realize you’ve missed entire days, and what’s worse, your body is walking and talking and kissing on your behalf. A kiss he doesn’t remember and I can’t seem to forget.

My cell phone chimes with an incoming text from a number I don’t recognize.

It’s Loreen. I’ve got a girl out tomorrow. You interested in picking up a shift?





I chew my lip and contemplate her offer. I made a hundred and fifty dollars last Friday. Even after Dustin got dragged out of the bar and banned for the rest of the night for fighting—funny when he didn’t even throw a punch—I doubled what I’d made the first half of the night. Everyone wanted the play-by-play. I may have conveniently forgotten most of the details, knowing whatever blanks I left open the town gossip would fill with their own version on the truth. Good news is, I ended up pulling in some serious dough.

Sam pouted the rest of the night and when she wasn’t pouting she was glaring at me. Guess having Lucas blow her off and drag me out of the bar was enough to dissolve whatever bridges we’d built and land me back on her shit list.

My phone rings in my hand, and thinking it’s probably Loreen, I move to answer it. Trevor’s name in big letters on my caller ID catches the corner of my eye and I send him straight to voice mail. As much as I need Trevor to keep my finger on the silent pulse of my postmortem career, I don’t need to jump every time he calls.

“Shy!” my dad hollers from his office. “Pack your bags. We’re going up to the lake to fish this weekend. Bass are bitin’ and we wanna grab some while we still can without freezin’ our balls off.”

I cringe and spin my chair to face him. “Oooh, yeah . . . I don’t have balls, so I’m gonna pass.”

“Family time, it’ll be fun.” The skin around his eyes crinkles with a semi-smile.

“As enticing as a weekend in a crappy little cabin while you and Cody fart and drink beer sounds, I’ll have to pass. I picked up a shift at the bar.” Or I just decided I would.

“That’s not how it is and you know it.” He sorts and stacks some papers. “Only sissies get a cabin. We camp.”

I roll my eyes and he laughs in his usual grumbly way as I punch out a quick text to Loreen confirming that I’ll take the shift. “Fish guts, chewing tobacco spit, and no bathing for forty-eight hours. Sorry to miss it.”

“Suit yourself.” He kicks back and studies me. “If you’re staying home, I’ll have Lucas check in on you while we’re gone.”

My eyes go wide, but I spin and give him my back before he notices.

“. . . such thing as being too safe.”

“I’m fine, Dad. You don’t have to do that. Lucas is busy on his piece for the McKinstry place. I don’t need a babysitter.”

“He’s right down the road. I’ll just ask him to pop in and make sure you’re okay.”

“Make sure I’m okay? Dad, that’s insane. You do realize I’ve lived alone before and managed to survive, right?”

“It’ll make me feel better to know someone’s checkin’ in on you.”

“I’m not a little girl. I can take care of myself.” Anger wars with panic. My dad pushing Lucas at me again might spook him. After all, the last time this happened ended with Gage.

“It’s not a big deal. Do it for me, okay? Give your old man some peace of mind.”

“But Lucas—”

“He doesn’t mind, Shy.” I hear the loud thump of his work boots as he moves across the small portable office to my desk.

“How do you know? Just because you give him a place to stay doesn’t mean you can take advantage of him.”

His eyes narrow and he tilts his head. “Not taking advantage. I’d ask Cody to do the same thing.”

“But he’s my brother. Lucas is my . . .” I throw my hands in the air. “Nothing.” The word tastes sour in my mouth.

He leans close. “You sure ’bout that?”

“Dad!”

“Lock up when you leave.” He stomps past me and out the door, calling over his shoulder as he goes, “I’ll see you Sunday night.”

Ugh! Does the man ever friggin’ listen?





LUCAS


“. . . so I’d appreciate it if you’d stop by and check on Shy while we’re gone.” Nash stands with one heavy boot on the bottom step of the porch, leg straight, as if he’s holding the house back to keep it from attacking.