“Uh huh.” She rolled her eyes and twisted her lips to one side. “You live in an airless black balloon,Sandy. You act like you don’t know most people here, and you’ve met them more than a time or two.”
“I don’t act like anything, Violet. I just can’t…pay attention like I used to. I forget. A lot.” And it was the truth. I found that after Elliott’s accident, I blocked things out, especially people I didn’t have time or energy for. After a while, they melted into the grim fog, and seldom were they brought to the forefront of my thoughts again.
Her eyes softened. “I know.”
A tender moment passed between us before I cleared my throat. Earlier thoughts came rushing back to me, thoughts I had time and energy for. “Do you know where Brando lives?”
“No, but I can ask Mick. But before we go any further. Am I privy to this information? Or is this end of story?”
I ignored her sarcastic tone, my agenda pushing me on. “I need a ride.”
Suspicion pushed out any tenderness in her eyes. “I can do that.”
“All right. Let’s find Mick. Time is of the essence and I need to stop home first.”
“That won’t be a problem. Finding Mick, I mean. He’s right there—staring at you. Again.”
My head whipped around to find him staring, just like Violet had said, at me. I couldn’t understand the look on his face. His eyes were looking at me, but they were wide. Every so often his gaze would shift to the route Ace had taken on his way out. Something told me Mick Lewis was attempting to connect the pieces of a puzzle.
Intuition toward Brando Fausti reigned supreme, but I found that sometimes this peculiar sense extended to others. Not as it did to him though; it was as different as sweet grapes to tangy beets. No rule book had come with this peculiar sense that I had inherited, so there was no way for me to tell what was right or wrong—or if any of this was real, apart from the humming in my blood that sang to me when Brando was near, or screamed when he was in trouble.
Still, retrospect had shown that decisions I made on feelings alone had proved to be correct nine out of ten times. There were times I hadn’t realized until after the situation had unfolded how this odd sensation had played a part—hindsight came to me later on.
It had all started that night out in the snow. Like he had pulled it out of me, caused it to take a breath and latch on. He was in my blood, dammit! He could leave me, yet my heart pulled me to him, the blood in my veins congealing the deal.
No use in thinking about that now. What’s done is done.
While Violet tried to capture Mick’s attention, I stuck the paper Ace had given me in my book. Mick glanced at her for a fraction of a second before his attention settled back on me. Whatever he had witnessed had bothered him. That much was clear. And whatever Brando had wanted him to watch for, he had, and his expression communicated his displeasure with the situation.
A curious voice in the back of my mind taunted, egging me on, whispering,find out,find out,find out. I silenced the voice with a grim reminder—whymade no difference; I didn’t need another big brother.
Chapter Six
Scarlett
I felt a sudden rush of panic at the thought of giving back Brando’s leather jacket. It felt like giving back a puppy after I had fallen hopelessly in love with it. I sat in Violet’s purple ’91 Ford Mustang, my eyes refusing to leave a sleeve that covered my hand completely.
I liked that about it. How it was much too big but somehow still fit. I grew with it, and in return, it always stayed the same—constant, reliable, worn in and comfortable. Sad as it was to admit, the leather jacket felt more like home to me than a place with four walls and a bed. His scent still clung to it. His fibers had become a part of the leather’s fibers. All of that in combination with the smell of leather made my head swim in the clouds.
There was no doubt that the jacket had a history too, and I wouldn’t be the one to discover its legacy. The thought made me flinch.
The night Brando had given it to me, I had raised the collar up to my nose, inhaling the smell as though air had never touched my lungs before. I did it again, and again, and again, until Violet gave me a strange look.
“Stop doing that. It’s weird.” She waved a hand. “It’s like you’re sniffing drugs or something.” The Mustang’s top was up, protecting us from the rain, but every so often a drop would drip down from the roof, right on to Violet’s head. She wiped it off in a huff, complaining about her parent’s not getting it fixed.
I brought my shoulders up to my neck, just so my face could be closer to the leather without her accusing me of being weird. Not only did I love the way it smelled, I loved the feel of it against my skin. With each second that passed, bitterness started to blossom and take root inside of me.
What if he gives it to someone else? Another girl?
Bile rose in my throat and, without thinking, my hand came up to try and stop it.
“Do you have any gum?” I asked Violet.
She nodded, reaching over me into the console. She handed me a pack. That was somewhat better, but not the remedy. Another disturbing thought came at me:What if he sticks it in the closet and it doesn’t get to see the light of day anymore?
I wore the jacket all through the cold season. I took care of it as if it were a precious diamond. I hugged myself, debating whether I was brave enough to give him back something he had given to me.
It was all I had left of him, of that night out in the snow.
