The Dark Light of Day (The Dark Light of Day 1)

She was getting closer, in both idea and distance.

Alissa reached over and punctuated her comment by lifting up the hem of my hoodie, exaggerating her movements to peer under it. I yanked it back down before she or anyone else could see anything. I grabbed her wrist and squeezed until she released my shirt, ignoring the fire building in my palm as I crushed her in my grasp.

She gasped and stared at me in wide-eyed shock.

“What was that Alissa?” I asked her.

She tried to wriggle out of my grip, but one thing I’d learned in my life was that hatred and adrenaline make people much stronger then they look. She may have been taller than me and outweighed me by at least twenty pounds, but at full boil, I could take her down with just a few blows.

Lucky for her, I was only on a simmer.

“Did you say something about the clothes I wear, bitch? Because honestly, I’d much rather be known as the girl who wears sweatshirts than the vagina most likely to be recognized in a line up.” People had gathered around to watch us. I didn’t care. “Did you ever stop to think that it might be whores like you who put every nasty bit of their ugly shit out on display for the world to see that disgust me so much I feel the need to cover myself up so I don’t wind up single, with seven kids, barhopping every night when I’m well into my sixties?” I gave her a sweet fake smile. “Oh wait, I forgot to ask you: how are your grandmama and mama doing these days?” Her glare became even more evil. I pulled on her wrist, and when she tugged back, I released her, sending her falling to the dirt floor, flat on her ass. The crowd laughed as she jumped to her feet, looking mortified.

“You’re such a fucking freak! Jake!” She held out her hand to him. “Let’s fucking go!”

Jake didn’t move. He didn’t even look at her. His gaze was fixed on me. “I told you I would come find you when I was done talking to Abby,” he said calmly.

Alissa stormed off in a huff, muttering under her breath, but I wasn’t paying attention. I was focused on Jake and his reaction to what just happened. He’d remained eerily calm and relaxed during my scuffle with Alissa, while I could practically feel that most people in the crowd had instantly tensed. When you don’t want to be touched, you learn to read body language. I was pretty good at judging if a look of pity was going to turn into an attempted hug or if an angry conversation was going to turn into flying fists.

“Impressive.” Jake pulled a joint from his pocket and lit up. “You want?” he asked, after taking a hit then offering it to me. I took a few slow, deep hits before passing it back. Alissa had set me back to sober, and I was out to correct that immediately.

Movement in the corner of my eye brought my attentions to where Owen stood by his truck. His friend Andy was talking to him excitedly, making wild gestures with his hands, obviously telling Owen a story of some sort, but Owen didn’t seem to be paying attention. Instead, he was looking right over Andy’s shoulders in my direction. It wasn’t me he was looking at this time. It was Jake. And he wasn’t just looking at him. He was glaring at him. Owen raised his shoulders as if to ask me if I was okay. I figured he hadn’t seen what had gone down with Alissa. I nodded to him, and he focused his attention back on Andy. “You with him?” Jake asked.

“He invited me. You know Owen?”

“Sort of.” He took another hit from the joint and slowly released the smoke in little rings.

“Impressive.”

He laughed. “So Abby, is not turning into a whore the real reason you wear sweatshirts in the summer?” It was none of his business, but he wasn’t asking in a way that was making fun of me. He seemed curious.

“Not really. I’m also deathly afraid of herpes and the clap. Stand too close to some of these girls, and that shit’ll just jump off them and on to you,” I joked.

Jake flashed a smile that reached all the way to his eyes. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“So you with that crazy bitch that just tried to undress me in public?” I asked. Why was I asking? Why did I care?

“Alissa,” he said. “Nah. I went to high school with her, is all.”

“You guys are friends, then?”

“Something like that.” Jake smiled.

Bingo.

And gross.

Alissa had probably been the girl on her knees for him in the junkyard. I tried not to think about it: the choking, the spitting. It was too fucking repulsive. I shivered.

“You’re in my seat, Dunn.” Owen seethed as he approached us. His forehead was lined, his brows knitted together.

“Free country, Fletcher,” Jake said, taking another hit of his joint. “Find your own fucking seat.”

“You know him, Abby?” Owen asked me.

“Not really,” I said. “We’re just sort of chatting.”

“You don’t want to chat with the likes of him,” Owen said. “He may be from around here, but he ain’t like us.”

“That makes two of us,” I said quietly, as I downed the last of my beer.

“What was that?” Owen asked.

“Nothing.” I stood up. “Nothing at all.” I swayed. It took me a second or two to find my footing. Again, I hiccupped.

Oh, great.

Jake stood and turned to me like he was going to help me steady myself. I made sure to put distance between us. Owen held out another red cup.

“I think she had enough, man,” Jake said. Their gazes locked. I swore I could see a heat wave of anger rising between them.

Owen put the cup in my hand despite Jake’s warning.

The two men stared down each one another like cage fighters preparing for a match. They were both about the same height, but Jake was blonde with light features and dressed like a member of Hell’s Angels, while Owen’s dark hair and green eyes stood in contrast to his All-American jeans-and-white t-shirt style.

Just as I thought they would pummel each other, another wayward hiccup escaped my mouth. I suddenly felt as if I would be sick. I leaned over the log and almost fell, but I steadied myself before anyone tried to help me. “I see those drinks are working,” Owen said.

“Nope. Not working.”

“How are they not working?” Owen asked. Jake wasn’t touching me, but I could almost feel his presence beside me.

“I still remember how much my life sucks.” It was an honest answer, but one I wouldn’t have given nine beers or so earlier.

“Then, let’s get you some more,” Owen offered, gesturing to his truck. The lightness was back in his voice. The tension from a second ago was gone.

“Don’t you think you’ve had enough, Abby?” Jake chimed in. Alissa appeared from behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist. She peeked out past his shoulder. She looked scared, as she should have been. I had half a mind to throw her into the fire. Jake unwrapped her arms, separating himself from her. She looked offended, but he didn’t seem to care. He took a step toward me.

Owen started to say something, but I interrupted him. I didn’t need him to answer my questions for me. “Nope. Not nearly enough,” I answered. I tried not to slur, but I was pretty sure I had.

The look on Jake’s face looked a lot like concern. For me? I chalked that one up to the alcohol. There was no way the same man—the stranger—who’d pulled a gun on me less than 24 hours ago was in any way concerned for my well-being. “You and Alissa have fun, okay?” I may have placed too much emphasis on her name, as if it tasted bitter in my mouth. He paused to look into my eyes for what felt like hours before looking from me to Owen. Finally, he shrugged and started walking away. Alissa trailed behind him like a lost puppy. “And Jake?” I called out. He stopped in his tracks and looked over his shoulder. “Give the girl a warning next time, okay?” I didn’t stay for his reaction but laughed myself silly all the way back to Owen’s truck.

“What was that all about?” Owen asked. I pretended not to hear him. I decided I’d actually had enough to drink after all, so instead I took my last joint from my back pocket and asked Owen to borrow his lighter. As soon as the smoke filled my lungs, I started to feel better. I held it there good and long before offering Owen a hit. We sat in the cab of the truck for a while with the windows rolled up, letting the high take over, and becoming mesmerized by the lyrics of the Tyler Farr song on the radio. When the joint was spent and the crowd had thinned to only a few people, Owen turned on the engine, and we headed down the trail that led out of the woods.

I was drunk, I was high, and I was pretty sure I couldn’t remember my own name.

Mission accomplished.

CHAPTER SIX

I MUST HAVE FALLEN ASLEEP in the truck because the next thing I knew, we were pulling into the driveway at Owen’s house. At first, I was stunned. I’d made it a rule that I’d never fall asleep unless I was alone. It was a little after three in the morning. I was becoming quite the night owl.

“Thanks for tonight, Owen. It was…interesting.”

“How do you know Jake?” Owen asked, cutting the engine, his mouth set in a hard line, his eyes accusing and cold. He rolled down the window and lit a cigarette.

“I don’t.” It was the truth. I had no idea who Jake really was.