Raw Deal(17)

"Classic rock, some outlaw country. You?"

"I like a little bit of everything. Some pop, some country, some rock.  Zane's band is a little heavy for my tastes though. Good, don't get me  wrong. Just heavy."

"I feel the exact same way, really." He reached for the volume knob and  turned up Nazareth's "Hair of the Dog." She had to laugh as the raucous  chorus warning about messing with a son of a bitch filled the cab,  especially since he grooved along with it. "I actually considered using  this as my walk-out song," he said.

"Now that would be funny."

And somewhere, on that Texas highway to Galveston with old rock blaring  on SiriusXM's Ozzy's Boneyard channel and maniacal traffic and lights  whizzing by at breakneck speed, Savannah finally felt herself begin to  relax, unwind, and enjoy herself. She even found herself seat dancing  and not caring when he looked over and saw her. Because she heard that  laugh she'd wondered about, and it was indeed great. The hour-long drive  flew by, and the landscape changed, city lights and buildings fading  into palm trees and resorts.

When at last he pulled to a stop outside a stilted beach house nestled  among a line of similar structures, a great vast blackness stretched  beyond it where she couldn't tell where the Gulf of Mexico ended and the  starlit sky began. Stepping out into that wind undid every bit of  effort she'd put into her hair, but oh well. She was beyond caring.

"This is amazing," she told him as they met in front of his truck and he led her up the steps to the front door.

"Thanks," he said. "I haven't had it very long." From a wad of keys he  produced from his pocket, he picked one and unlocked the door. "Hang on  and let me hit some lights. I haven't really redecorated or anything, so  don't hold it against me."                       
       
           



       

She chuckled, but when soft light filled the living room space and she  stepped in, there was nothing to hold against him. The walls were a  soothing aqua, the living room suite white and immaculate with deeper  teal accents. "What do you mean? It's perfect. I'll live here if, you  know, you don't like it."

He laughed and moved to the kitchen beyond, depositing his keys in a  blue glass bowl on the way. "Drink? I might have Coke. Or beer. Might  even be a bottle of wine somewhere, if you want."

"I would actually be fine with some water."

Mike grabbed a couple of bottles from the fridge while she explored a  bit, taking in the beachy wall pictures, the shells and starfish,  glancing in each of the two bedrooms. It wasn't a big place, but it was  exactly what she would have chosen for a little getaway from life. "You  don't rent it out?" she asked after joining him in the kitchen.

"No. I thought about it but decided not to. I have an apartment in the  city but lately I've spent almost as much time here as I have at home. I  think it's therapeutic, seeing the gulf as often as I can."

"I can see that."

"Want to walk out there?" he asked.

"I'd love to."





Chapter Nine


Savannah wasn't sure how long they walked the beach or how far they  went. Conversation with him flowed so easily. Even their silences, while  not completely comfortable yet, weren't the torture they usually were  when she was getting to know someone. Once his little house had faded in  the distance, they turned and strolled back with the waves just  reaching their feet. She found herself wishing they had farther to go,  longer to stay, but all too soon they'd reached his house again.

He didn't seem any more eager to end their time out here than she was.  Together they stood on the sand, staring out at the flat limitless black  beyond, the stars sparkling above.

"It's beautiful," she said softly, closing her eyes and letting the wind  lift her hair off her shoulders. Peace settled over her such that she  hadn't known in weeks. She felt so tiny, so infinitesimally small out  here, but there was comfort in that, in knowing she was only a blip in  this vast universe. That there were powers in control beyond her narrow  scope.

"I spent a lot of time here," Michael said, his voice bringing her back. It was a nice place to come back to. "After."

"I don't think I would ever leave."

His laugh was warm, touching her in some deep part of her soul that had  felt dead and withered for so long, bringing it to life again. "Believe  me, it was tough to. I only left to find you."

"Oh, it wasn't me you were looking for."

"I didn't know it at the time, yeah. But I'm glad you were who I found."

She stole a glance up at his solemn profile, cast in silhouette by a  distant light. "Me too," she said. Then she found his hand with hers,  curling her fingers tentatively around its solid warmth. When he took  hold, she lost her breath. Hard, callused fingers rasped against her  delicate skin. She'd only thought she felt tiny before, she'd only  thought touching him outside his truck had affected her. The strength  thrumming under his skin turned her knees to jelly. The surf washing  away the sand under her feet made her unsteady, as if one false step  could wash her away too-or maybe it was just him. His tidal influence  over the ebb and flow of her body, the one she'd only discovered now,  with his hand around hers.

"Oh, God," she said weakly, lowering her head. She couldn't feel this  way. She couldn't. She didn't know him, and no one would understand. But  instead of letting go, she only squeezed his hand harder. The only  anchor she had in this maelstrom of emotion was the hand that might very  well have ended Tommy's life.

"Savannah?"

A tear fell from her eye, traveling all the way to the wet sand at her  bare feet. She couldn't let him see her cry. He would feel responsible.  "I'm okay." A shudder racked her, belying her words.

"Come here." She should have protested, but she couldn't. All there was  to do was go into his arms, bury her face in his chest, let him hold her  while her silent tears leaked onto his shirt. It felt like such a safe  place, like nothing could ever hurt her here. But how many people had  learned differently? How many people had suffered because of the power  in this body next to hers?

His hand stroked down her head, taming her hair from the teasing effects  of the gulf wind. Hard to believe a hand that touched her so gently  could ever hurt anyone.

Beneath her cheek, his heart beat strong and steady, nothing like the  erratic acrobatics hers was performing. If she could just hide here with  him and never have to face the world again, maybe everything would be  okay.                       
       
           



       

"What are you thinking about?" he asked, and she heard the words rumble through his chest.

She swallowed against the lump in her throat. God, how could she tell him when she didn't know herself? "I'm trying not to."

"I know all about that."

"Tell me something about you." Something good, she pleaded silently. The  surprise he felt at her request, and then the resulting discomfort, was  practically palpable.

"What do you want to know?"

"Anything. Anything you would like to tell me."

His stillness was telling in itself, but she waited for him, hoping he  would say something perfect. "I haven't had it easy, Savannah. An  Internet search can tell you pretty much all you need to know."

"No. It can't help me know you."

"Here's something. I would do anything for my brothers. And I have. I've done everything for them."

Loyalty. He was loyal to a fault, too loyal for his own good, maybe. "Your mother? You've never really mentioned her."

"My mother's dead."

She lifted her head to look at him, finding a distance in his expression  that had her reaching for him without even thinking about it, trying to  bring him back to her. The moment her hand touched his  stubble-roughened cheek, he found her again. "I'm sorry," she said. "If  you don't want to-"

"If you need to know, I'll tell you. It's not anything I've ever tried  to hide. Yes, I did everything I could for her too. But I couldn't save  her from herself. She overdosed on heroin when I was eighteen."

"My God. How old were your brothers?"

"Zane was sixteen, Damien fourteen. Zane is the one who found her." He  sighed, his chest rising and falling beneath her cheek. She tightened  her arms around him. "It was bad, but I can't say it was unexpected. At  least it wasn't to me."

"What do you do after something like that? I can't even imagine."

"First off, you try to keep your younger brothers out of foster care.  Mom had alienated any family we had a long time ago. Living with their  fathers wasn't an option because they had records. So it fell to me. I  was an adult in the eyes of the law but still a kid. I dropped out of  school my senior year so I could go to work to support them, and went to  prizefights whenever I could. I already had a coach getting me some  amateur stuff. Some mornings after getting my ass kicked, I hurt so bad I  could hardly move, face all busted up, but I still dragged myself to  whatever job I managed to find. Two jobs, sometimes three. They'll never  know everything I did for them. I don't want them to."