Red Hill (25 page)

“Jesus Christ, Scarlet, when will it stop? When will it be enough?”

“Keep your voice down.”

“I'm trying. God knows I'm trying, but you have to tell me when this little project is going to be over.”

“Little project?”

I frowned. “Do you have any idea what I go through every morning when you leave? What I go through all day until you come back?”

“Yeah. I have an idea,” she said, crawling out of bed.

“God, Scarlet . . . ,” I said, feeling terrible. “I'm sorry.”

She left without saying a word, and I lay back against my pillow, looking up at the ceiling while I let myself drown in the guilt that washed over me.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Miranda

AFTER THE EIGHTH DAY IN
a row of clearing, Scarlet and the boys took a day off. We had all been looking forward to it. While they were gone, Nathan and I took turns keeping an eye out on the roof. It was so damn hot that—even guzzling water—we would be nearly sun sick by the time we climbed down. And then we had to keep an eye on the girls. It was exhausting. I couldn't imagine how the boys felt every day.

Ashley had been taking food into her bedroom, but today she decided to venture to the dining room. It was obvious we were trying to keep the conversation light. Ashley didn't eat or speak much, but it was a big step for her to come to the table with us, and we all knew it.

It was my turn to wash the dishes. Joey brought in a bucket of water from outside, and then stuck around to dry as I cleaned.

“I hope it rains soon,” he said. “Not much water left in the basin.”

We hadn't had any time alone together since the day we were on the roof, and even though I played it off, and even though he'd come in with bad news, I was almost giddy when he offered to help.

“You're getting to be quite domestic,” I teased. Joey elbowed me, and I giggled.

Bryce walked into the kitchen and grabbed a towel. “I'll do that,” he said to Joey.

“We're almost done,” I said, hoping I didn't sound like I just wanted to keep Joey in the kitchen with me—because that's exactly what I wanted.

Bryce looked at us both expectantly, and then Joey and I traded glances.

“I was going to get some target practice in, anyway.” Joey and I used that to steal a few moments alone together a few weeks back, and I smiled, knowing it was an invitation.

“Better warn Skeeter,” Bryce called. “Wouldn't want him to accidentally gun you down,” he grumbled under his breath.

The second the storm door slammed, I tried to think of a reason to go outside with Joey. Bryce and I finished the dishes, and he was putting them away. Scarlet, Nathan, and Zoe were playing some kind of homemade board game in the middle of the living-room floor.

“Miranda, Ashley went outside earlier. I'm going to check on her when I'm finished,” Bryce said, shutting a cabinet door.

“I'll do it,” I said, trying not to sound as eager as I felt. My hands were shaking, thankful I had a reason, and excited that it was Bryce who had come up with one. That would mean fewer questions later. I tried to be nonchalant as I walked casually out the front door.

He wasn't at the back of the house, where we'd met the last time. It didn't take long before I realized I didn't see Joey . . . or Ashley.

“Hey, Skeeter,” I called, looking up to the roof. He poked his head over the edge. “You see Joey or Ashley?”

Skeeter pointed south, but didn't say a word.

I walked out to the barn, but Butch and I were the only two around.

Several emotions bubbled to the surface: confusion, worry, and even suspicion. Noises from behind the barn piqued my curiosity, so I peeked around the corner. Joey and Ashley were standing in the field together. She was holding the rifle, and he was trying to help her hold it correctly. He said something, making her drop the barrel toward the ground a bit. His hand was on her hip for a fraction of a second. They began to laugh, the ugly kind that produces tears. Joey even doubled over and steadied himself with his hands on his knees.

My face instantly flushed and my eyes filled with tears. At first I was angry with Ashley. She'd been walking around the house nearly comatose, not responding to anyone or anything. All she'd done for almost ten days was cry and sleep. Every time I tried to talk to her, she'd just get angry. But in the field with Joey, she was herself again. Laughing and joking like Cooper hadn't been shot in the face right in front of her less than two weeks before. Suddenly, alone with Joey, she was just fine.

I stifled back a sob, letting the jealousy, and then the guilt, swallow me whole. Of course Ashley deserved to do something other than be miserable. How could I say that I loved her and then be angry with her for having a moment of peace? I slowly let myself slide to the ground and sat in the dirt. Sweat was forming along my hairline, and a drop finally fell just in front of my ear. It was like an oven, even in the shade, but Ashley and Joey didn't notice they were baking with the sun shining straight down on them.

She was alone now, and so was Joey. They would talk about their loss, and find comfort in one another, and I would have to watch them because I had nowhere else to go. I closed my eyes and let my head fall back against the wall of the barn. God, I was a horrid, selfish bitch.

Joey's and Ashley's voices got louder, and I realized they were walking my way. I stayed very still and didn't dare breathe, afraid they would catch me eavesdropping and crying over them like a crazy person. I was convinced they would both know why if they saw me. Thankfully, they were too busy impressing each other to see me, and continued to the house. I finally took a deep breath and let out a quiet cry. I said once that I wouldn't want Joey if he were the last man on earth. Now I was just horrible enough to wish we were the last ones on earth so I could have him to myself.

That night at dinner, Ashley and Joey sat next to each other. They carried on about their afternoon and how awful a shot she was. For absolutely no reason at all, I was annoyed with Ashley's voice and the entire conversation. No one else was talking, just listening to them go on and on and on about how funny that was, and how hilarious this was, and bragging about how much help Ashley needed.

“We've decided she needs some serious help, and this should be a daily thing until she gets better.”

“Sounds like a good idea,” Nathan said, nodding.

“You've shot a gun before, Ashley. I don't understand how you'd be so bad at it,” I said.

Ashley chuckled, and then when she realized I wasn't amused, she stopped altogether. “I haven't shot that much.”

“As much as I have. The way you guys are talking, you were confused on how to hold the damn thing.”

“Miranda,” Nathan said in his infuriatingly smooth voice.

“I'm just curious.” I tried a smile, hoping it would cover how crazy I felt, and how awful I was for being angry that my sister was happy.

Ashley looked down at the table, the light that had come back to her eyes snuffed out. “It was just never my thing.”

The corners of her mouth evened out, and she rolled her food around on her plate with her fork, returning to the same lifeless vessel that she'd been since Cooper died.

Bryce shot me a look. I didn't have to ask him what he was thinking. I knew he was angry that I'd been so hard on her, and he should have been. I was angry with myself.

“I'm sorry, Ashley. I didn't mean—”

“It's fine,” she said, her face devoid of emotion.

I sat back in my chair, feeling judgment from everyone at the table. I deserved it, so I sat there, letting them glare, stare, or shake their heads. I wasn't sure who was the angriest. I wasn't brave enough to look up from my plate.

• • •

AFTER THE LIGHTS WENT OUT
, Bryce tried to tug me out of the recliner. “You coming?”

I nodded. “I'll be there in a bit. I'm not really tired.”

He nodded back, resigned. After he disappeared in the hall and closed the door, I stood.

Joey was breathing hard but regular, facing the floor in the last half of a pushup. His face was red and moist, and as usual, he was without a shirt. The veins were bulging from his hands and arms.

Noticing my feet next to his face, Joey looked up at me.

“Can I talk to you outside for a minute?” I said, and then turned to go to the front porch. Joey came out, quietly shutting the door behind him.

Now that we were alone, and he was half naked, I fought to recall why I was angry in the first place.

“What's going on with you?” he asked.

“I saw you.”

“Huh?”

“With Ashley. Earlier. What the hell do you think you're doing?”

Joey crossed his arms across his chest and shifted his weight nervously. “Um . . . teaching her to shoot?”

I laughed once without humor. “Oh, bullshit. You've taught me to shoot before. I don't remember your hands being all over me like that.”

“My . . .
what
?”

“You heard me. I saw you!”

Joey's expression morphed from surprise to mild anger. “I didn't have my hands all over her, Miranda, you're being ridiculous. And you knew what you were doing pretty well before we went out because you've shot before.”

“So has she!”

“Well, then she's not as good as you are.”

“She is sad, Joey. Whatever you're thinking? Don't.”

“Don't what? Maybe I'm stupid, so you'll have to tell me exactly what you're saying.” He was getting defensive, which only made me angrier.

“I'm saying Ashley is my sister. I love her. She just lost the love of her life, and she's vulnerable. I don't know how much more clear I can be, so let me just say it: I don't want her to be taken advantage of.”

“You don't
really
think I would do that,” Joey said, ­seething. When I didn't answer, his expression changed again. “Do you really think so little of me that I would try to fly under the radar to get into her pants? While she's grieving?”

“No, that's not what I'm saying, I'm—”

“Good, because if you really think I'm that big of a piece of shit, what have we been doing?”

“We haven't done anything!”

“You know what I mean!”

“Wait, did you mean that when she's not grieving anymore you'll try to get in her pants?”

“What?”
he said, clearly trying to remember when he'd said anything remotely close to that. He shook his head, completely flustered. “You have to know me better than that. You have to know how I feel about you. She's your sister. I would never . . .”

“Yes. I do know you, and I know you've lost someone, too, so I thought maybe you felt like you two had something in common.”

“So it's not that you think I'd pull a dick move like that, but you wanted to warn me not to make a dick move like that.”

“No! I don't think you're an asshole, I just think you're both . . . maybe not thinking about what it means if you get together just because you're alone.”

“So you came down here to make sure I wasn't trying to get close with your sister because you didn't think I would try to get close with your sister?”

“Yes!”

“You're not making any sense!” He turned his back on me and walked a few steps in the other direction, and then turned to face me. “Or maybe you are.”

I watched him for a long time. I wasn't sure if I was embarrassed or angry or both, but that smug smile that I hated and loved was spread wide across his face. I flipped my wrist and showed him my middle finger. “Maybe you
are
an asshole.” I turned on my heels for the stairs, but Joey flipped me around and then his mouth was on mine. After the initial surprise, I gripped his skin and pulled him against me just as his tongue slid into my mouth. He smelled like two days of sweat and dirt, and I'm sure I did, too, but I couldn't get close enough to him. I wanted more of his mouth on mine, more of his arms around me, more of his hands on more of my skin, but he pulled away.

By the look on his face and the glimmer of sadness in his eyes, kissing me had brought back a memory. Maybe I deserved it, loving someone who loved someone else.

“Wow, I'm sorry,” he whispered, stumbling backward. “I can't believe I just did that.”

“It's okay,” I said, reaching out for him, desperate to make him feel better.

“I can't do this to Dana.”

My eyes filled with tears. “You're not doing anything wrong. I know you loved her, but Dana's not here.”

“But Bryce is.”

His words sliced through me like an axe. He wasn't doing anything wrong, but I was.

“We're going all the way to Shallot again,” he said. “I've got an early morning and a long day, and when we get back, Skeeter wants to dig ditches around the perimeter. I need to rest.”

I nodded, stepping backward a few times before finally opening the door. It would have been just my luck to run into someone, maybe even Bryce, as I retreated into the living room with wet cheeks. When I walked in, I was alone. Nathan and Zoe had more than likely heard us go outside, and probably heard us yelling. Everyone probably heard us yelling.

I wiped my eyes quickly, and took a few steps toward the laundry room. I could hear Scarlet's whisper in my mind.
I wouldn't.
If she were still married to Andrew and stuck in this house with him and Nathan, maybe she would.

I lost my nerve, and then crept back into my bedroom, took one look at Bryce sleeping on my side of the bed, and sat in the chair in the corner. He usually fell asleep fairly quickly after his head hit the pillow, so he did that when he was waiting for me to come to bed, knowing he would wake up when I pulled the covers back to crawl in to my side. I wasn't sure if I'd stayed with him so long because I loved him, or if I just didn't have a good enough reason to ask for an ending. Either way, I was crawling in bed with the man who loved me, wishing he was the man I loved.