Chapter 4

CHAPTER FOUR

JAMIE

The whole trying to make friends with Lance approach isn’t working and as soon as I make any headway, Mick pops up talking shit, so I throw in the towel. The man’s never going to go drinking with me, so onto ‘Plan B’, which is crap.

Thanks to that brilliant idea, I find myself flat on my back in a mud puddle, somewhere in the middle of the wooded acreage that Bane inherited from his wife.

Swearing my head off as I try to extradite myself, I hear what sounds like a giggle. Well, hell. If that’s who I think it might be—the past two weeks of traipsing around here might pay off.

I just want to catch a glimpse of her—of Eden—just to appease my curiosity. Nothing more than that; at least, that’s what I keep telling myself.

Looking around, I can’t tell where the sound came from and once again start trying to stand up. There’s a loud, almost sucking noise when I lift my ass up and I hear a laugh again but ignore it this time. Finally upright, I take a step and my foot pulls loose of my boot.

“Goddamn son of a bitch!” I can’t help throwing my head back and howling. I know my face is nearly purple, but this kind of shit doesn’t happen to me and now there’s no ignoring the laughter coming from above me. “Yeah, it’s fucking hilarious.”

With that comment, I fish my boot out of the mud and walk over to a fallen tree—using the rough bark to scrape off as much filth as I can while I try to figure out what to say.

“Maybe next time, you’ll give me a head’s up?”

Silence.

I study the surrounding trees until I see the base of an old hunting blind that looks like it was half absorbed into a huge, old tree, before someone came along to shore it up again.

“I’m Jamie, in case you were wondering,” I say next. “Been curious about the land out this way. Now I know.”

“Now you can go.”

I strain to hear the softly spoken words.

“That’s not very hospitable of you.”

“Oh? Was it the all the ‘No Trespassing’ signs that you’ve been walking past recently that gave that away?”

With those words delivered in the sassiest voice I’ve ever heard, my heart beats a mile a minute and I know there’s no way in hell I’m leaving until I see her.

“So, no one taught you any manners, huh?” I ask, unable to keep the grin off my face.

There’s barely a pause before she calls out, “I’m not sure ‘respecting my elders’ applies to trespassers !”

Now it’s my turn to laugh. “What’s your name, sweetheart?”

I’m met with silence again, so I straddle the tree I’ve been standing near to wait her out, but she’s patient, so it’s more than five minutes before she speaks again.

“Um, can you get up and go? Please?” This time her voice sounds less amused and more strained, making me cock my head to the side, trying to figure out what’s changed.

I’m no sooner in a comfortable spot that I remember her age AND that I want her to trust me. Leaving now, even with it going against my nature, might suit me better in the long run.

“Here I am, lecturing you on manners,” I call out, jumping to the ground as I start backtracking my way out of here. “I’ll head out, but maybe come back by with my lunch tomorrow?”

With that, I head back to my truck, then into town as fast as I can.

On account of a cookhouse catching fire, I’m not able to make it back for a couple days, but at least I’ve found Eden’s hangout and don’t have to venture any closer to Lance’s house.

I’ve nearly stepped past one of the old, weather-beaten No Trespassing signs when my head whips around and I back up, grinning at it like a fool.

Someone drew the profile of a head on it; complete with mohawk and a blurry tattoo that starts behind the ear. Above the new artwork are the words This Means You .

I think I’m in love.

When I get to the hunting blind, I nearly slide into the mud again. This time because my eyes are glued to the long blond hair that’s hanging over the side of the platform.

“Are you going to tell me your name this time?” I call out and she sits up, startled, as she retreats away from the edge.

“You shouldn’t skip meals, you know,” the woman I assume to be Eden responds after a moment.

“I wouldn’t have stood you up if I could have helped it,” I reply. “Hey, mind if I climb up?”

“No! I mean yes! Don’t come up here!” Her words stumble over each other, but I get the hint and stay near the base of the tree.

“Tell me your name, and I’ll stay put.”

“Why are you here?”

“I honestly don’t know, but today … I’m pretty fucking tired, so what do you say I sit down here for a bit, and we visit?”

“Okay. I guess. Um, you said your name was Jamie. Does that mean you’re James?” she asks, and I like that she seems to be curious about me.

“Nope. My mom named me Jamison, but my dad hated it and always called me—well, never mind that. Mom took to calling me Jamie, and that’s what I prefer. Are you ready to tell me your name?”

“Nobody knows my name,” she answers back before laughing to herself. “At least I feel that way. I barely ever hear it spoken out loud.”

“Hmm. If you had to choose, would you pick a new one or keep the name you have?” I ask her, wanting to keep her talking.

“I like my name, and my mother chose it so I would never change it. I … Sometimes, if barely anyone ever says your name … it feels like you don’t exist.”

Her words make my stomach twist into a knot. It’s not so different from how I feel about constantly being called Butch. Like the man my momma wanted me to become—Jamie—will slowly disappear the less that name is used.

Butch is someone people fear. He has no problem destroying anyone, sometimes because he didn’t have caffeine yet. But he isn’t, entirely, me. While I don’t like people I don’t trust calling me Jamie, I feel like the more I hear the name Butch, the more he takes over who I am—or more importantly, wipes away who I could be.

I sit there, silently contemplating her statement, again wondering why someone I’ve never seen should have any impact on me, on my life, or how I look at myself. At the sound of her shifting above me, I ask her another question, wanting to know more about her.

We go on like that for a time, exchanging information with each other that we never would have otherwise.

“Jamie? I have to get back home now,” she finally says.

“Can I come again?”

“I think I’m supposed to say no, ” comes her answer after a moment. “Besides, I’m not eighteen yet. Not sure if you’re on a pedo list or if you know what happens to them in jail, but …”

“I know you’re not, Eden,” I respond, using her name since I’m tired of pretending I don’t know it. I want to lay some of my cards on the table. “And since I’m not a pedo, that’s why I won’t climb your tree or try to catch a glimpse of you until you’re ready.”

“My dad’s going to be so pissed when he finds out,” Eden’s response to my use of her name pulls a laugh from me.

“Why’s that? Maybe he’ll like me,” I say, grinning when she laughs again.

“That you even know about me will tick him off.”

“I’ll be here tomorrow afternoon; around the time he goes to check on the construction at the garage.” I tell her, meaning to be here even if the whole world catches on fire. “What is it about you, Eden? I’ve never chased anyone in my life, but the moment I had the idea of your existence …”

My voice trails off, since I have no idea how to explain myself.

“I’ll keep coming back until you tell me not to, Eden.” I finally say, hoping she enjoys hearing her name as much as I like to say it. “Do you want my cell number?”

“I don’t have a phone,” she answers quietly, and I know it’s for the best. With those words, I respect her wishes and head back to my truck. Only stopping to take another glance at the No Trespassing sign she dedicated to me.

Eden

I nearly had a heart attack the day Jamie fell in the mud near my tree and my laughter gave me away. He’d been trespassing on our land for over a week, which I really didn’t mind so much once I realized he didn’t seem to mean any harm.

Our first conversation was cut short by my need to pee. Between sitting up in the tree stand most of the morning and laughing my ass off at his fall, I suddenly became desperate to get him moving, which he did, more gracefully than his arrival.

I’d given up on seeing him again when he didn’t show up the next day and he surprised the hell out of me earlier, when he called out to me. Even more so when he said my name.

Jamie sure as hell did not learn it from my father. He must have looked into my records somehow, which tells me … well, I’m not sure what exactly he’s up to, but I can’t deny how excited I became when he mentioned chasing me. I never thought it was possible that he would feel the pull like I do.

Walking home doesn’t give me the time to sort through my feelings like I hoped it would since Dad has the yard lit up with all the floodlights and is yelling my name.

“Dad! I’m here. Will you chill?”

“Christ, Eden! There wasn’t a note and even though you traipse the land every day, you know I expect you here I get home.”

I’m not sure that this is the best time to point out that having my own phone would have saved him from freaking out, but …

“So, have you thought anymore about getting me a phone? I know you said when I’m eighteen, but we just blew past that,” I ask, and get a chuckle from him. Which simply means he won’t mention my absence again.

“I really fucked things up, didn’t I?” Dad asks, coming to a stop right inside the doorway. Reaching out for the wall, it’s like he’s holding himself up. “Sweetie, I just wanted to do right by you. By your mom. Parkdale, and Vinton in its own way, just went downhill over the years and the thought of you getting mixed up in any of that … it just rips me apart at night, Eden.”

“Dad,” I whisper, walking back to him and wrapping my arms around him. “I understand why you’ve homeschooled me and everything. I just need you to know it’s close to the time you have to ease up.”

“I know. And God knows you can handle yourself, but I just can’t imagine losing you.” Dad’s voice cracks with his last words.

“Deep breaths, old man,” I tease him. “You’ve successfully raised an eighteen-year-old girl that has never had alcohol, drugs, or a VD. You’re killing it.”

“Yeah, but that mouth on ya,” Dad cracks back, trying to give me his stern look, but the glint in his eyes always gives him away. “I’m going to fix up a sandwich. Why don’t you grab your college notebook? We can work on your applications.”

Oh, boy. Let’s see how this goes.

“Dad,” I draw that word out as I follow him into the kitchen, determined to spit my plan out. “I already applied to take online classes from the University of North Carolina. I can stay here, but I want a phone and a car. I know you always talked about states and schools that you would like to see me go to, but there are problems everywhere and we can save some money this way.”

“How long have you been saving that speech up?” Dad asks, taking things out of the fridge without looking at me.

“Well, if you want me out of the house that badly, I suppose I can hit the road.”

“I didn’t say that, sweetie,” he replies, still not turning to face me.

“Hey, I don’t want to cramp your style. You’re a catch, Dad, and no matter how many times I’ve told you to start dating, you haven’t.”

“I’m not going to, whether you’re here or safely ensconced in a college town far away from here,” he says, tossing a slice of Swiss cheese at me—hey, it’s cheese, yes, I ate it. “I want you to go out into the world, follow your dreams, Eden. Selling my garage took care of your college fund; no need to worry about that. I mean, as long as you don’t go to Harvard. I don’t think I can swing that.”

“I know me staying here isn’t your dream for me, but for now, it’s what I need to do,” I answer after a moment. “I also thought I could get a part-time job somewhere.”

Dad doesn’t say a word as he eats and I know by the look on his face, he isn’t happy, but it isn’t because I’m not going to one of the colleges he dreamed of me attending. It’s because he knows I’m determined to find the man I’ve dreamed about for years—and for better or worse, that’ll keep me anchored to this town.

“A job?” he finally replies, sounding skeptical.

“Yeah, I guess they’re all the rage with adults these days.”

“A little tip—sarcasm is frowned upon in the workplace.”

“Now you tell me!”

“Brat.”

“I’m adorable. Any business would be lucky to have me,” I sass back.

“I’ve created a monster.”

“But a loveable monster.”

Dad laughs as he finishes his sandwich, and we head to the den to play video games for the next few hours.

“Can I go to the new garage with you tomorrow?” I ask before I head upstairs for bed.

“Eden, I don’t think?—”

“Please? I want to see Parkdale, and I will eventually, so it might as well be with you,” I insist, trying to reason with him.

“I’m leaving by nine. We’ll get breakfast in town,” his response comes as I’m entering my room.

The idea of riding into Parkdale had me up bright and early the next morning. After getting my chores done, I shower, then spend way too long trying to figure out what to wear. Dad’s voice calling out that he’s going to leave without me gets me changing back into the jeans I was originally wearing before I run out the door.

“Are you wearing lip gloss?” Dad asks, keeping his eyes planted on the road in front of him, even though I can see a smile tugging at his lips.

“No, just Chapstick,” I answer, huffing in annoyance. I mean, it is tinted, but he didn’t need to call me out.

“Don’t be nervous, sweetie,” he says, laughing next. “Some of the regulars at the diner will be surprised to see you.”

“I wasn’t nervous until you said that. Thanks.”

“You going to tell me what has you tied up in knots or are you going to keep up this snippy routine?” he asks me.

“Just seeing the town I’ve heard so much about, I guess.” I tell a half-truth to my dad.

Approaching the town square, it looks like many of the neighboring towns—ones that I have been to over the years—only with fewer chain stores and restaurants. Every store facing the square seems to be open for business. It’s just the ones on the side streets that all seem to be boarded up.

“I’m starving, so let’s grab some breakfast, then we’ll walk over to the garage.” Dad says, pulling into a spot before letting out a sigh.

“Is it any good?” I ask, wondering what’s bothering him.

“It’s fantastic. Their shakes were even featured on one of those Food Network shows,” he tells me. “It’s just that I’m going to have to keep my guns loaded once the men around here get a glimpse of you.”

“Oh, please!” I insist, but his comment makes me nervous about walking into the diner, so I turn to dig behind the driver’s seat and luckily happen upon one of his baseball caps. “How’s this?”

I pull my ponytail through the hole in the back and the curved brim down low.

Chuckling, he slides from the truck and joins me on the sidewalk, holding the door to the diner open so I have to enter first.

“Grab a seat anywhere,” a waitress with purple hair calls out.

“Hiya Lance,” she greets Dad when she makes it to the booth we picked. “Got company today, I see. What are ya drinking?”

I glance up and am startled by the array of piercings on her face, never having seen anything like it.

“Just a water,” I answer, not sure of their offerings before I take the menu from her.

“You’re going to want to order one of their milkshakes,” Dad whispers when she walks away. “And you can’t go wrong with any of their House Specialties.”

My eyes immediately fall on the breakfast quesadilla, but I keep the menu up, using it as cover while I scan the other people in the restaurant. There’s only one guy who looks like he’s under thirty and it’s definitely not Jamie. Looking past his shoulder, I catch his reflection in the mirror and once he winks at me, I realize he’s been studying my face.

“Who’s that with you today, Lance?” he asks my dad, spinning his seat around to face us.

“No concern of yours,” Dad barks out and my eyes widen at his tone.

“Sooner or later, you’re gonna figure out you’re doing business with the same people I am and act like it, old man,” the guy says. The smile on his face does nothing to cover the dark look in his eyes. “Sweetheart, wanna come party with me tonight?”

Keeping my eyes trained on the table in front of me, I quickly shake my head.

“You change your mind, drive down past the old quarry and ask for Togs when you get there,” he says before walking out.

Jamie

I spend the morning checking our cookhouses and shifting people around. Work that I normally assign to Tim or Togs, but I like to handle it myself from time to time; just so I know what’s happening.

In between locations, I see Togs’ truck coming down the other side of the road and I stop, hitting my flashers.

“What’s new?” I ask when he pulls up alongside me.

“Heading out to make some collections,” he answers with a shrug, before a gleam lights up his eyes. “And I’m hoping to mine a new diamond for the quarry parties.”

I let out a grunt, not really giving a damn about anyone but Eden.

“Yeah, turns out, your mechanic has a daughter. Fucking grade A …”

Without any memory of moving, I suddenly find myself halfway out of my window with my hand wrapped around Togs’s throat. His hands slapping against my arm brings me back into the moment.

Rage and I are well acquainted. You don’t grow up like I did without it constantly rearing its head. In this second, I’m angrier than I’ve ever been—knowing that Togs saw my woman before I have.

“You don’t—" I pause, warring between wanting to gauge his eyes out and remembering that he’s my oldest friend. “The only thing you ever say about her to anyone is that I will cut the tongue out of any man who disrespects her. She’s not to be touched, talked about, nothing. I don’t want Mick hearing about her. If anyone sees she needs help, they are to provide it. Understand?”

I finally release his throat, but keep my eyes locked on his.

“What the fuck, man?” he gasps out. “Not cool.”

“Are we clear?”

“Yeah. Yeah. Crystal. Fuck, Butch,” he immediately replies, and my skin crawls at the sound of my nickname.

Without another word, I continue down the road, eager to get to the diner in the hopes of coming face to face with my future.