Flirting with Disaster Part 11

"No," she said, her voice a harsh whisper. "I'm not used to it. I'll never get used to it. I never know what I'm going to find when I go home."

"Like what?"

She let out a shaky breath. "My parents screaming at each other. My mother bruised and b.l.o.o.d.y because my father can't keep his fists to himself and she doesn't have the guts to leave him. My mother sitting in the kitchen, emptying a fifth of bourbon and pa.s.sing out."

"That's terrible," Dave said.

It was. And it seemed even worse when she said it out loud. Her hands started to shake. G.o.d, why were her hands shaking?

"The trailer where we live is small," she went on. "There's no place to go to get away from it. Sometimes I feel as if the walls are closing in on me, like I'm sealed inside a coffin, screaming to get out, but n.o.body's listening." She paused, taking a deep, unsteady breath. "On the north sh.o.r.e of Still-man Creek, there's this little clearing surrounded by pine trees. Sometimes I go there and lie on my back in the gra.s.s. I stare up at the sky and take deep breaths of fresh air that I'm not sharing with anyone else. And I can watch the planes fly over. I just lie there and imagine taking off and soaring into the clouds and never coming back again."

"You don't ever want to come back here?"

"That's right. My parents can go to h.e.l.l for all I care."

Dave shook his head slowly. "That's too bad."

"It's just the way it is. I just wish I could have left sooner."

"What?"

"From the time I was about thirteen, I've thought about running away. About a thousand times. But I was just a kid. . . ." She shrugged helplessly, her eyes filling with tears. "I didn't have anywhere else to go."

She felt Dave staring at her, but she couldn't look at him. Not after she'd just given him a perfect picture of just how horrible her life really was.

"Lisa? Does your father ever hurt you?"

"Mostly I just stay out of his way."

"You can't possibly do that all the time."

"I can take care of myself."

"I know you can," he said gently. "You just shouldn't have to."

She turned to look at Dave, and the compa.s.sion in his eyes was like a beacon drawing her to him. All at once she realized how close he was standing and that he showed no inclination to back away.

"You can't help how you grew up," he told her. "It doesn't mean you're like them."

"Everybody a.s.sumes I am."

"You don't go out of your way to convince them otherwise."

He was right. She thought about the way she dressed most of the time, the way she acted, and she felt sick to her stomach. It had been her way of saying to h.e.l.l with everybody who a.s.sumed she was trash just because of where she came from. Then she'd looked at herself through Dave's eyes, and it had opened hers in a way she'd never expected.

"Why do you date guys like Derek?" Dave asked.

She shrugged weakly. "You said it yourself. A decent guy wouldn't have me."

He closed his eyes. "I'm sorry, Lisa. It's not true. I mean it. It's not."

When he opened his eyes again, he stared at her with such empathy that she couldn't look away. She blinked, and a tear slid down her cheek.

"Please forget I said that," he murmured.

"It was no big deal."

"Yes, it was." He eased closer to her. "I'm sorry about that. And I'm sorry about your parents, too. About how you've had to live. What you've had to deal with. I'm sorry about . . . everything."

The regret she heard in his voice made it even harder to fight the tears. She opened her mouth to say something, but suddenly she couldn't talk anymore. A silent sob choked her, and she put her hand over her mouth.

"G.o.d, Lisa. . . ."

She squeezed her eyes closed, and a moment later she bowed her head and began to cry. Before she knew what was happening, Dave had taken a step forward and pulled her into his arms.

For a moment she felt disoriented, unable to comprehend what he was doing. But when he slid his hand to the back of her neck she leaned into him and rested her head against his shoulder. He felt so strong and steady, sustaining her when she couldn't bear one more thought about the sordid life she lived, filling her with a sense of warmth and security unlike anything she'd felt before. As close as they'd become in recent weeks, she would never have imagined him touching her like this, acting as if he would hold on to her forever if that was what she needed. She wrapped her arms around him, tears streaming down her face, and the wall of invincibility she'd spent her whole life trying so hard to maintain crumbled into dust.

"I hate them," she said, clinging to him, sobs filling her voice. "I hate them both. But I'm not going to be like them. I swear to G.o.d I'm going to be better than that. I'm going to take control of my life. I'm going to fly. You'll see."

"I know," he said, stroking her hair. "I know."

He held her for a long time, whispering calming words to her, letting all her tears come out. When her sobs finally faded, he eased away from her, still cradling her in his arms. She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, then slowly turned her gaze up to meet his. He brushed a strand of hair away from her temple, his eyes never leaving hers. A second pa.s.sed, then two. Lisa saw his intent, but it wasn't until he lowered his head and dropped his lips against hers that she allowed herself to believe that it was happening.

Dave was kissing her.

He splayed his fingers against the back of her neck, urging her closer, and suddenly blood was pumping wildly through her veins even as her muscles went weak. When he slipped his tongue into her mouth and stroked it against hers, it felt so warm and sweet and intimate that she almost collapsed in ecstasy. She loved the clean, masculine smell of him, the smooth skin of his neck beneath her hands, the soft groan that rose in his throat as she s.h.i.+fted slightly and deepened their kiss even more. She clung to him desperately, kissing him back with all her heart, feeling as if thunderclouds had parted and sun was s.h.i.+ning through. He was the light in all her darkness, the one person who could make her forget the terrible place she'd come from and believe that tomorrow could be better than today.

She hadn't dared even to think it before, but now she wanted to shout it. She loved him. Loved him with an intensity that bordered on insanity, and for the first time, she allowed herself to hope that maybe he felt it, too. Other guys might kiss a girl and have it mean nothing, but not Dave. Not him. Not when he was engaged to somebody else.

"You're not going to marry Carla," she whispered against his lips. "Tell me you're not going to marry her."

He slowly eased away, looking a little dazed, as if he was waking from a dream and hadn't fully regained consciousness.

"Oh, G.o.d," he said on a harsh breath. "What am I doing?"

"No," she said, holding him tightly. "Don't stop. Please Please don't stop." don't stop."

He pulled away again, disengaging her hands. "No. I shouldn't be doing this. I shouldn't be-"

"Don't say that! You want it. Just as much as I do. We've both wanted it for a long time."

"But Carla-"

"Forget Carla! She's nothing but a pampered little rich girl who's going to make your life miserable. You can't possibly love somebody like her. You can't!"

"Of course I love her! I'm marrying marrying her, for G.o.d's sake!" her, for G.o.d's sake!"

His words struck Lisa like a hammer blow. This had meant nothing to him. Nothing. All he could think about right now was his precious Carla and how she'd perish at the very thought of him kissing another girl.

Especially another girl like her.

"I mean it, Lisa," he warned. "I don't want Carla knowing about this. She can't know. She can't can't."

Lisa felt as if she was being swallowed in darkness when only seconds ago nothing but light had filled her mind. For those few moments when he was kissing her, she'd held out hope that maybe . . .

Maybe what? That maybe he'd actually want her? When she'd just stood there and told him just how s.h.i.+tty her life really was? The kind of family she came from? How was he supposed to look at her now as if she was a decent girl, one a decent guy might actually want?

A decent guy like him.

Stop it. Who the h.e.l.l are you kidding? Like there was ever a chance of that? Ever? chance of that? Ever?

"Don't worry," Lisa said, swiping the tears off her face. "Your secret is safe with me. I wouldn't think of breaking up such a perfect couple."

"I'm sorry, Lisa. I'm so sorry if I made you think-"

"You didn't make me think a d.a.m.ned thing." She stuffed a notebook into her backpack.

"Lisa. Don't go."

"We're done."

"No, we're not. If we don't finish this engine-"

"What? We'll get a lousy grade? What makes you think I give a d.a.m.n about that?"

"This was my fault," he said. "I'm the one to blame."

"Oh, for G.o.d's sake. It was just a stupid kiss!"

"But you were upset. I never should have-"

"Will you just forget about it? Carla will never know. Isn't that all you really care about?" She slung her backpack over her shoulder.

"Lisa. Wait."

She stopped and turned back, glaring at him.

He turned his palms up. "We're friends at least, aren't we?"

"Oh, my G.o.d G.o.d. The oldest line in the book? Save it, Dave. I've heard that one about a hundred times."

"It's not a line. Not when I really mean it."

"Friends. Right. Once you and Carla are married, I'll come on over to your house for dinner some night. How would that be?"

He bowed his head, letting out a harsh breath.

"Maybe we're friends in here," she said. "But out there, you act as if you barely know me. Isn't that true?"

He looked up at her again, and she saw regret in his eyes. "Yeah. I guess that's the way it's been. And that's my fault, too."

He put his hand against her arm, then slid it down until he circled her wrist with his fingers. "I know we'll be going our separate ways. But if there's ever anything you need, if I can help you somehow, I want you to call me. Okay?"

She glared at him. "And if your wife answers the phone, am I supposed to hang up?"

"Just call me if you need me. I mean that, Lisa."

His dark eyes focused on hers, sealing his offer with an expression of total sincerity. She knew he meant what he said, and it only made her want him that much more.

"I won't be needing you," she told him. "You, or anyone else."

She jerked her arm from his grasp and left the shop. He called after her, but she walked faster, then started to run. She circled the school building until she reached a secluded alcove where a pair of Dumpsters sat.

She slid down the wall, letting her backpack fall on the ground beside her. She rested on her heels, hugging herself, nausea overtaking her, tears flowing down her face. She bowed her head, still sensing the warmth of his arms around her and heartbroken at the thought that she'd never feel it again. Not once in her short, pitiful life had she ever gotten a d.a.m.n thing she wanted. Ever. So she'd stopped wanting.

Until Dave.

To have something she'd wished for so desperately dangled in front of her, then jerked away, was simply more than she could bear.

Lesson learned.

She feigned sickness so she didn't have to go to school those last three days of her senior year. She couldn't have endured seeing Dave again. She couldn't have tolerated sitting next to him in cla.s.s or watching him walk down the hall with Carla. And above all, she couldn't have tolerated the pity she was sure to see in his eyes. Or maybe he would have acted as if he didn't even know her, and that would have been the worst blow of all.

Two weeks later, Dave married Carla in a ceremony at the First Methodist Church of Tolosa in front of two hundred friends and family members. The last thing Lisa did before leaving town was stand near a cl.u.s.ter of azalea bushes across the street from the church, waiting until the bells rang and the doors opened. Dave and Carla came out, all smiles, Dave looking so handsome it made Lisa's heart ache. Carla wore a dazzling gown with yards and yards of lace and a train so long that it took two bridesmaids just to haul it around for her. For all the terrible things Lisa had said about Carla, she would have sold her soul to be just like her at that moment. The kind of woman Dave would want to marry.

But then she realized that he'd done her a favor. She didn't really love him. After all, Carla was his ideal woman, a silly, dependent little fool who barely had a brain in her head or the ambition to do anything but play house. Lisa knew that any man who would want a woman like Carla would only make her miserable.

She was going to do more with her life. Much more. Flying meant freedom. Adventure. A life full of excitement. Full of the respect that low-life people in east Texas trailer parks couldn't possibly hope to have.

Eleven years later, she'd accomplished all that, and more. But still she'd never forgotten Dave.

As the Mustang sped along the deserted Mexican highway, Lisa turned her head a little and blinked her weary eyes open just enough that she could see him sitting beside her. He'd slipped on a pair of sungla.s.ses against the bright sunlight and kicked back in the driver's seat, his forearm resting along the driver's door and his wrist looped over the top of the steering wheel, looking every bit as gorgeous as he had as a teenager. As much as she'd been drawn to the high school version of Dave, it didn't begin to approach the way he looked now- tall, strong, handsome, and in control.

Thank G.o.d he'd come. If he hadn't, where would she be?

She knew where she'd be. She'd still be sitting out in those woods, getting progressively weaker, more delirious, losing strength, slowly going out of her mind. . . .

She didn't even want to think about it.

Still, this was nothing more than a detour in her life. A momentary setback. Yes, she needed Dave now, but once they got to San Antonio and all this was nothing but a bad memory, she'd be on her own again.

And that was just the way she wanted it.

chapter eight.