Buried Secrets (New Adult Dark Suspense Romance) (9 page)

“Yeah,” he agreed, reaching for her root beer glass. “But not like you.”

“What do you mean?” She watched him, bemused, as he got up off the stool, walking around the counter. “What are you doing?”

“Root beer?” he asked from the soda machine, looking over his shoulder at her with a grin. She nodded and watched him refill her glass. Nellie’s other waitress, a girl who looked young enough to not quite be in high school yet, stared at Shane, incredulous, but didn’t say anything.

“You’re off to U of M in January right?” he inquired, coming back around the counter and putting the now full soda in front of her.

“Yeah.” She took a sip—sweet and cold—then offered him one. “I don’t have mono or anything.”

“But do you have cooties?” He grinned, picking up her glass and drinking from it instead of using the straw, taking a piece of ice too. “You know you can make root beer. My brother and I used to make it in our garage and sell it to the neighbor kids.”

“How entrepreneurial.” The thought of a young Shane—she had known him young, that bright smile, those sharp blue eyes—made her remember things. Things she didn’t want to remember. Dusty rubbed that bloody, sore spot on her tongue against her teeth, distracting herself from the painful memories, cutting them off.

“You could call it that.” Shane grinned, chewing noisily on his ice. “Listen, you want to get out of this little town, escape to the big, exciting city, right?”

“I guess.” She didn’t know about the city part—but the small town feel of Larkspur, how everyone knew everyone else’s business, that much she knew she wanted to get away from.

“You’ll go to college,” he went on. “Graduate. Get a job working for some corporation. You’ll become a cog in the wheel, another rat in the race.”

She snorted, sipping more root beer. “You’re depressing me again.”

“That’s what I mean.” He shook his head, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand, like talking about this made him tense. “There’s no difference—this tiny town or a great big city. We’re all little ants under someone’s magnifying glass.”

“Well how is what you want any different than anyone else?” she scoffed, offering him her root beer again. This time he used the straw. She noticed the way he looked at her as he drank, gaze focused on her lips, still wet from the ice and soda. It was like somehow the straw and her mouth were directly connected. It was silly, childish, but her lips had just been there, where his were now. And he looked at her like he knew it, like he was thinking about that too.

“You want out,” she reminded him softly. “You said so.”

“I want
out.”
He pointed toward the ceiling, shaking his head as he put the glass back on the counter.

“Like… out of life?”

“No. I like life too much to give up without a fight.” Shane laughed and when he did, he looked better—not so sad and hollow and wary. For some reason, that gave her butterflies in her stomach. “Out of the game. The only way to win it is to refuse to play.”

“How do you refuse to play?” she asked. Behind them, the kids were getting louder. The lunch crowd was thinning a little and their increasing volume was more noticeable.

“I take my bat and ball and go home.” He nodded toward her glass—it was empty again. “Do you want another refill?”

She shook her head. “Where’s home?”

“Out in the middle of the woods,” he replied, tipping her glass back to get another piece of ice. “Off the grid, away from everything.”

“Sounds lonely.” She remembered him in his camouflage and moccasins, pictured him out there playing wild man by himself. It made her sad and filled her with a longing she didn’t quite understand. It made her think about what Shane had said, about that vague feeling of loss, like something was missing but you didn’t quite know what it was.

She felt like she’d forgotten something she’d once remembered. It was maddening, like a phrase on the tip of your tongue you couldn’t quite articulate.

“I’m never lonely.” He caught her gaze, held it. She found her breath a moment later, but it came faster than it should have, heart pounding in her ears. “I’m used to being alone.”

“You can’t tell me that’s not depressing.” Her voice sounded normal to her, but her face felt hot, flushed.

“It’s not,” he assured her, leaning a leather-clad elbow on the counter again, his eyes so bright and alive, in spite of the shadows underneath. They were as blue and deep as Lake Superior when the water was still and calm, like glass. “I love being out in the woods alone. I saw wolf tracks on state land. Thrilled the hell out of me. Did you see the bald eagle in the cemetery that day?”

She knew what day he was talking about, of course. It was the last time they’d seen each other. Not that she’d expected to see him, but she’d been out at the cemetery every day since. It was a nice routine, getting up in the morning, going to visit Nick and talk to him for a while.

“Yeah, I did,” she said softly, remembering. “I was hoping you’d seen it too.”

They reached for her glass at the same time—Dusty’s hand wrapped around the cool, water-beaded surface and Shane’s hand encircled hers, engulfed it really. He had big hands, more like paws, with short, square fingernails and calloused palms. She looked at their hands together, neither of them moving away, and then met his gaze.

He wasn’t smiling—but his eyes were. They had that same dancing quality, like sun reflecting off the water.

“Prettiest thing I’d seen all day,” he confessed. “Aside from watching you sleeping on Nick’s grave.”

“I wasn’t sleeping. I was…” She flushed, letting go of the glass, and he let her.

“Mourning. I know,” he said softly.

“Nick loved it too.” Dusty looked away from him, at the kids being loud in the corner, gaze skipping to the window with the red checked gingham curtains, anywhere but Shane. “Being outdoors, with all the animals.”

“I know. It’s one of the few things we had in common.”

She looked at him in surprise. “You were best friends, Shane. You must have had a lot in common.”

He shook his head, finger tracing the wet ring the glass made on the counter. “He was rich, I’m poor. He was popular, I’m… not. He was going to college. I’m not going anywhere.”

Dusty had the urge to put her arms around him, like he had with her in the coat closet at the funeral home. There was something about him in that moment, so open and raw and vulnerable. It wasn’t a side of him she’d ever seen. The Shane she knew was full of arrogance and bravado, sarcasm and comebacks. When the two of them got going, verbally sparring, he could always give as good—if not better—than he got.

It was like, since Nick had died, that part of him had disappeared. Or had been broken.

Shane’s gaze lifted, his eyes locking on hers. “The only thing we had in common was our love for the woods and…”

“And?”

He shook his head, tracing that ring again on the counter. “You.”

She raised her eyebrows. “I think it was mostly your love for the woods.”

“Yeah, he loved the cabin.” Shane smiled, looking both sad and thoughtful.

“Nick never talked about you having a cabin.” She was surprised. Nick told her everything. They told each other everything. She knew about Shane’s brother and why he’d gone to jail. She knew, in far too much detail, the circumstances of Shane’s love life, his high school conquests, and the older woman he’d dated from Millsberg who was a hairdresser. Why hadn’t Nick told her about Shane’s cabin?

“Our little secret.” Shane had a faraway look on his face. “It’s a great hunting spot. Been in my family for generations.”

“But no running water? No electricity?” She shuddered. “No thanks!”

He laughed. “I’ll take you to the cabin some time. It’s not what you think. It’s completely sustainable. I think you’d like it.”

“Wait…” Her head came up, eyes wide. “Wolf tracks? Do you think… could it have been a wolf?”

He shook his head. “Pack hunter. Even hungry, a lone wolf wouldn’t be likely to attack a human. And if it did, I doubt it would attack more than one. They’re too gun shy.”

Nellie set Dusty’s fries on the counter in front of her.

“Thanks.” Dusty smiled as Nellie took her root beer glass and went to refill it. She slid the basket of fries toward Shane. “Want one?”

“Not without ketchup.”

“Of course not.” She reached for the red squeeze bottle and Shane grabbed her hand before she could tilt it upside down.

“You’re not one of those all-over ketchup squirters are you?”

She stared at him for a moment, trying to decipher what he was saying, and then laughed. “No! The ketchup goes right here, in the corner, so you can dip them.”

“Okay good.” Shane let go of her hand, grinning. “Because that would have been a deal-breaker.”

“And they have to be well-salted.” She squirted ketchup into the corner of the basket and reached for the salt shaker.

“Of course!” he agreed, watching her turn that upside down and shake it. “Is there any other way?”

She laughed. “No, there’s just the right way.”

They both reached for fries, dipping and eating them, grinning like fools. Dusty couldn’t help but think about the phrase “deal-breaker.” That would imply they had some sort of “deal” to begin with, wouldn’t it?

“How come people keep asking me to hang out with the gang now?” She wondered out loud. “First Ryan, now Nate. No one ever invited me before…”

She didn’t want to talk about before, didn’t want to say ‘before Nick died,’ not out loud.

“You’re welcome to join us at the path or the Starlite.” Shane dipped a fry into the ketchup and rolled it around so it was completely coated before putting the whole thing in his mouth and chewing. “Anytime.”

She smiled, taking a napkin and wiping ketchup off the corner of his mouth. “And now you.”

He blinked at her, surprised. “You’ve got some too.”

“Where?” She used the napkin to wipe her greasy, salty lips. Nellie’s fries were the only ones in town, but they were the best in the county, maybe in the whole state. People came from all over to get them—in flavors like ranch and barbeque and salt n vinegar—but Dusty liked them plain. Dusty had once asked Nellie her secret and she said it was because she cut them thick and fried them in lard.

“Nope, over here, messy girl.” Shane touched her cheek, showing her the red dab of ketchup on his finger before putting it into his mouth.

“Don’t you start associating yourself with that crowd.” Nellie put a full root beer on the counter in front of them and Dusty realized she’d been watching—and listening. “It was bad enough your brother hung around with them. Bunch of bad seeds.”

Shane smiled, eyebrows going up. “I’m sitting right here, Nellie.”

“I know where you are, Shane Curtis,” Nellie snapped, not looking at him, but at Dusty. “The Starlite’s no place for a girl like you.”

“A girl like me?” Dusty choked on her fry, grabbing a napkin to cover her mouth.

“A
good
girl,” Shane reminded her with a slow wink.

“Is that what I am?” Her eyes watered and she took a long sip of her root beer.

“Are you?” He raised a speculative eyebrow at her, an annoying gesture, not only because it made him look cocky and irresistible but because it was a challenge.

“Bad things happen to good girls at the Starlite.” Nellie’s hands were on her hips again, a sure sign a lecture was on its way.

“That’s ominous.” Dusty hid her smile behind her napkin.

“Are you talking about Honey Moore?” Shane asked.

“That’s right.” Nellie nodded, knowingly.

“What happened to Honey?” Dusty looked between the two of them. She knew Honey Moore—she’d been a senior when they were freshmen. It was hard not to hear about a girl named Honey Moore. With a name like that, she was unofficially voted girl most likely to become a pole dancer.

“Got herself a little bit preggers,” Shane leaned in toward Dusty to stage-whisper this, grinning at Nellie the whole time.

Dusty smirked. “Just a little?”

“She didn’t do it to herself,” Nellie protested, wagging her finger at him.

“Don’t look at me!” Shane held up his hands, protesting his innocence. “I didn’t do it.”

“Who’s waitressing at the Starlite now?” Dusty asked

“He’s hiring. Big sign in the window,” Shane told her.

“Really?” She pursed her lips, thoughtful. “I’m supposed to get a job. My dad has this rule—once you’ve graduated, if you want to ‘stay under his roof,’ you either have to be in school or working.”

Her father’s “rule” was really Julia’s, but he had adopted it and informed both Nick and Dusty soon after he’d married her. That was the summer before they turned sixteen. They both knew it would never apply to them. Their mother had always stressed how much she wanted them to go to college and that had always been the plan. Dusty hadn’t expected to have to delay her plans a semester. And Nick…

She raked that sore spot on her tongue across her teeth, using the pain to cut off the thought.

Shane helped by interrupting her, saying wryly, “I’m sure your dad was thinking of something at an office in Millsberg—or maybe the library?”