I clear my throat and swallow again. “I get them sometimes. Mostly the one. It’s the car crash, but…not? If that makes any sense.” I glance at him to see him watching me carefully now. He gives the slightest nod, encouraging me to continue. “I mean, it’s my daddy, my momma, and me—just like it was. But the conversation is always different. Probably because I can’t remember the real conversation.” I shrug.
It’s true. I blocked it all out. Even the oncoming truck with the driver who fell asleep at the wheel and killed my parents. I don’t remember any of it, apart from piling in the car to drivehome from Texas and then waking up in the hospital the next day with my whole body aching and a searing pain cutting across my abdomen.
“Sometimes I think maybe the dreams are my way of trying to remember. Maybe find the last few moments we were together?” I tilt my head at him.
Dallas nods again, brows drawn together. “So, they’ve been happening a lot recently?” he asks gently.
I shake my head. “It’s been months, actually.” The realization brings a hint of a smile to my lips because I’ve come a long way over time. There were years when the nightmares were relentless, robbing me of my sleep and sense of peace. The only saving grace sometimes was the knowledge that I could have lost my brother too, had he been in the car.
“You think the one last night has anything to do with all this Shane business?” His question is quiet, but the underlying tension is palpable.
Half of me wants to laugh and brush him off. The other half already considered this possible connection while cleaning the science experiments out of his fridge thirty minutes ago. I choose to go with the first half. “Why would Shane being an idiot make me dream about my parents?” I scoff before lifting my mug and downing the rest of my coffee.
It’s time to get moving, or Curly is likely to grow a third horn or develop a gallstone.
Dallas straightens but doesn’t move to intercept me when I slide off my stool and take my mug to the sink. “I don’t know, doc, you tell me,” is all he says.
The pounding of Ryder’s feet down the stairs saves me.
“Can we stop for donuts on the way to practice?” he asks as he bounds into the kitchen.
“You already had cereal, bud. Maybe another day,” Dallas replies over his mug. “Besides, I’ve got somewhere to be.”
I give Dallas the side-eye because a) who says no to donuts? And b) he said last night that he was spending all day on a new commission in his workshop—the one twenty yards from the house.
Ryder huffs his disappointment, so I ignore Dallas and go for a distraction. “How fast can you swim one lap?” It accomplishes my goal as the kid launches into an explanation of why my question is too simple for a straight answer.
I listen while Dallas drains his mug and gathers his keys and wallet.
“Okay, Ryd. Daylight’s burnin’. Let’s go!” Dallas prompts before whistling for Nelly. The dog races to the front door, spinning in circles in his excitement to be included.
Relieved, I bid them goodbye and turn to the hall while the two Gambles chatter on their way out the door.
“Whatcha gonna do while I’m at practice, Dad?”
“Oh, there’s somebody I need to pay a visit to. I’m pretty sure he’s expecting me, if he’s got any brains in his skull, so I’ll be able to wrap things up well before practice is over.”
I stop in my tracks at Dallas’s words, but there’s no use wasting my energy trying to stop him at this point. Maybe if he says what he needs to say to Shane, we can all just move on.
“Do you think this guy’s got any donuts, by any chance?” I hear Ryder ask just before the door closes.
I gotta say, I like where this kid’s head is at. His dad’s, on the other hand? The jury is still out on that one.
Chapter
Five
HE FELL FROM THE UGLY TREE AND HIT EVERY STICK ON THE WAY DOWN
Dallas
“I’m just gonna tell him to back off,” I say to Nelly.
He opens one eye and closes it again, content to nap the whole way to the Hornville Oil Refinery, which is closer to the city I try to stay away from. I tried Shane’s place already, and he wasn’t there. He also wasn’t at Shelby’s, so that’s something at least.
“Seriously. No fists. No shouting. Just an adult conversation about leaving Shelby alone.” My hands grip the steering wheel harder, just picturing that asshole’s face, but I force them to let go.
The forecourt is buzzing with workers. Half are getting off night shift while day shift is just arriving. I scan the group heading in until I see an ugly brunette who looks like he had one too many drinks last night. I hop out of the truck and holler Shane’s name. It takes two more shouts before he turns in my direction. His eyes go wide for just a second before he tucks tail and almost runs toward the plant entrance.
