No Saint (Wild Men 6)

The way he said it, voice raw, eyes haunted, tells me beyond the shadow of a doubt that I’m right about him, about this decision.

Because yes, I’ve made up my mind. Through thick and thin, in sickness and in health, I’ve made my own silent promise in the shallow, cold water of Little River, kneeling in front of him, that I won’t let go. I try not to think ahead, to the murkiness that is the future, to whether we will be together then, whether he feels something more for me or not.

He needs me now, and I’ll be there for him, like he’s been there for me these past weeks.

I don’t give up on people I care for. Not anymore, not when there’s a chance I could pull him back from that ledge he’s permanently hanging from. Maybe it’s me, that I am so scared he will let go.

And maybe... Just maybe, I want to hope he wants more from me than to hold him now. That I’m not a crutch. That this connection I feel between us is strong enough to last past the Summer.

I tug and pull at him until he’s on his feet and lead him back to the house. He seems so lost today, it’s putting new cracks in my heart. I don’t know why the breaking point came for him today, what dreams he had before waking up this morning, what memories surfaced because he talked to me of the past. It’s painful to think I caused this—but I have to hope that lancing the wounds helps them heal.

Those scars... dear God. Has anyone else ever seen them? School teachers, schoolmates, doctors, the cops? When my dad told me that Jasper used to hit Ross, it was news to me. He managed to hide it so well all this time, I doubt anyone ever suspected just how deep the damage went.

Too deep, a little voice in the back of my mind warns. He’s too damaged, Luna. He may be trying to change, he may be sorry for hurting you in the past, but you can’t come back from this kind of childhood, not whole.

No, I don’t accept that. He may have lost himself for a while, had to hide to protect his mind from the pain, but he’s still in there. I’ve seen it. He’s shedding his savage, nasty armor day by day, and it’s killing him, but it’s also bringing him closer to me. To who he really is. He’s struggling so hard to get there, he’s won me over so completely that my infatuation with him seems like a faint distant dream. What I’m feeling for him now... it’s so much more, so much bigger that I wonder how my heart can contain it.

***

The day is cloudy and hot. He’s been quiet all morning, distracted, his eyes lighting up whenever I touch him, but then darkening again. He keeps rubbing at his chest, and I don’t know if the scars bother him, if they pull with the changes in the weather, or if it’s something else he’s trying to soothe.

I talk to him about my dad, Josh, Aunt Emily, how it was living with her. How I have this idea about leaving again, this crazy belief that I can do and magically transform and then come back strong, like a vengeful spirit. I blab on and on, to fill the strange silence, not half sure what I’m saying.

“Don’t go,” he says at some point, interrupting me and hauling me against his side, hugging me close, but eventually time runs out.

Leaving him is hard. I put it off as long as possible, going as far as to call Dena and ask her to cover for me because I’ll be late for work. When it’s time for me to go, he doesn’t even warn me against hanging out with Jenner this time.

I’m so late I don’t even pass by the house and hope my clothes pass inspection. Dad calls me on the way, and I can tell he’s getting worried about my long absences. He wants to know who I’m spending time with, but how can I tell him? Josh will have kittens.

I want to tell them, though. I want them to meet Ross, the real Ross, the one I spend every day with, who’s kind and thoughtful and funny and gentle. I think Dad would see what I see. I think Josh would come to understand once he got to know him a little. Ross is starting to mean... a lot to me. Though I have no idea where we’re heading with this thing between us, I’d love my family to know that, not to hide anymore.

It’s a good thing I’ve left my uniform at the diner, so I put it on quickly and run to help Dena, my mind going a thousand miles an hour. Am I going crazy? Going too fast? Wanting it all at once? Not even knowing how Ross really feels... All I have is clues, so many clues, pointing in each and every direction, and I’m supposed to make sense of them, and take my chances.

Then again, what’s life if not risk, right? I can’t keep a safe distance forever.

Stop running, Luna. For God’s sake, stop, and take a gamble. You can feel it deep in your hea

rt that it’s worth it.

He’s worth it.

“Luna, good Lord, where’s your mind at, girl?” Dena whips by me, carrying empty trays and a faint scent of... perfume? “Grab some orders for me, will ya? Lots of people today.”

I stare after her. She’s wearing make-up. And high heels. And her hair is straightened, though in this humid heat I wonder how long her effort will last.

What’s going on here?

“Did you get a boyfriend while I wasn’t looking?” I call after her, grabbing my notepad and pen, and get an unintelligible reply from inside the kitchen.

“Whatever.”

There’s too much work to linger on that thought, and Mike, the owner, is there, which puts more pressure on us. Today of all days he had to be here, when I came in late, and my uniform is wrinkled, my thoughts certainly not on the job but on a certain handsome, scarred boy in a house by the stream, his mother’s pendant and photo in his pocket, a swan inked on his chest, and the weight of a lifetime on his shoulders.

Yeah, no time to wonder why Dena struts around like a moonstruck hen, or even why, when I grab the dishes from the kitchen in a hurry, I think I see Mike talking to someone who looks like Ed—and is that Fred with them?

Why would Mike be talking to the bullies? But it’s a small town, everyone knows everyone, and you never know what sort of connections there might be—family, neighbor, business, they could be talking just about anything under the sun.

It makes no sense, though, during this busy time when I can’t spare a moment to talk to Dena, or to question properly Mike’s connection to Ed and Fred, that I should have my head filled with Ross.