Blood and Sympathy (9 page)

I don't think Dad will
ask where I'm going; he usually isn't interested in what I'm doing, unless he
thinks I shouldn't be doing it. I've learned over the years that it's just
better if he doesn't know everything. He might ask where I was when I get back
home, but it's better if I tell him after the fact. He can't tell me not to do something
after I've already done it.
J

Yeah, I've been
accused of being stubborn. A lot. I suppose I am, a little bit. I prefer to
think of it as sticking up for myself and speaking my mind. I try not to argue
just for the sake of arguing. I usually have a point to make. If people would
just realize, I'm right about stuff, they'd stop arguing with me.  

I'm marking the days
off on my calendar until graduation. Also, graduating means that summer is
almost here.

A bucket list is a
to-do list of things we've never done before but would like to do before we die.
You should make a list, and I'll make one, then we can compare the two. If
there are any of the same things, we can do them together. How's that sound?

Devil's Fork Lake has
a lot of interesting stories. It's a fun place to hang out most of the time.

I'm sure I'll like the
music box. I'm looking forward to seeing what you've created!

I'm going to make you
come with me when I get my tattoo. You'll probably have to hold my hand to keep
me from passing out.

See you soon,

Claire

Nervous didn't begin to describe the way I felt.
My mouth was dry, my hands were sweaty, and I was too antsy to sit still. I
paced back and forth while I waited for Uncle Jeb's familiar face. He was a
tall man, built like a tree trunk, and hard to miss among the cluster of
visitors.

As soon as I saw Claire, my stomach knotted up and
I forgot to breathe. In some ways, she still resembled the little girl I
remembered from church. The same sad eyes, the same dark hair and olive skin,
but with a grown-up body to wrap everything up in a neat little package. Her
legs were long and she wore her jeans well. Fuck me
.
She was beautiful.
My pulse sped up, and I sucked in a deep breath, trying to calm my nerves.

I wiped my palms down the front of my pants while
Jeb put his hands on Claire's shoulders and urged her forward. "Braden,
say hello to Claire Copeland."

"Hi, Claire," I said softly.

She smiled up at me through lowered lashes.
"Hey, Braden."

We sat at one of the round tables in a big room.
She probably thought I was some kind of pervert, with the way I couldn't seem
to take my eyes off of her. I wanted to memorize every inch of her face. Her
lower lip had been split open, and there was a faint purplish bruise on her jaw.

"Thank you for coming." I pushed the
music box I'd made for her across the table and said, "Here, this is for
you."

Her eyes widened and she ran her finger over the
cutout sun on the lid. "It's perfect." She turned it over in her
hands and wound it up. It began to play "You Are My Sunshine."

"I hope you like it."

"I love it. Thank you so much."

She smelled like I knew she would--sweet cherry
pie. She was quiet. I didn't know if it was because she was shy or because she
didn't have anything to say to me now that we'd met. She was a whole lot easier
to talk to in a letter than she was sitting in the same room.

Uncle Jeb cleared his throat and started talking
about the things we'd normally talk about when he came to visit, putting us a
little more at ease. "It won't be long now, and you'll be back in
Hensteeth. You'll need to get your driver's license. Maybe Claire can teach you
how to drive."

Both of us zoned in on Claire and she blushed.
"I don't have a car of my own, but maybe Olivia will let us use
hers."

Jeb winked at her and said, "Maybe if you ask
permission first, she'll be more likely to let you do that."

I didn't think it was possible, but Claire turned
an even brighter shade of red. "Maybe," she murmured.

I shifted in my seat, and it had nothing to do
with nervousness and everything to do with the arousal she caused me from sitting
so close that I could feel the heat radiating off her skin, threatening to
suffocate me. I tucked my fingers beneath my thighs in my chair and tried to
come up with something clever to talk about.

I'd never been at such a loss for words in my
life. Before I knew it, visiting time was over and I watched her walk out of
the room, figuring I'd never hear from her again. She'd probably come to the
conclusion I was the biggest loser she'd ever met. There was no way in hell
she'd want anything to do with me after that awkward situation.

When they left, I went to the gym and worked out
my frustrations by lifting weights. I stayed there until I thought my muscles
were going to snap like rubber bands. My only contact with the opposite sex had
come from the counselors and teachers, and trying to figure out how to act
around Claire had left me coiled like a spring.

It was all I could do to keep from spending a
little extra time soaping up my dick in the shower after my workout. I could
never make a girl like Claire happy, but damn, she would be the star of many
fantasies--those long legs wrapped around my waist, my fist wrapped in those
silky strands of hair. Fuck.

After dinner, I collapsed onto the bed and rolled over
on my stomach, my dick throbbed painfully against the mattress. I decided to
answer her latest letter and thank her for coming to see me.

Claire
Copeland

He probably thinks I'm some kind of mental case.
Practically the whole time I sat across from him, my face varied from one shade
of red to another. If I ever heard from him again, it would be a fucking
miracle.
God
. I felt like some kind of a lovesick teenager, and I never
acted like that.

On the ride home, I silently digested our meeting
as I turned the music box over in my hands. From the corner of my eye, I saw
Jeb sneaking curious glances in my direction.

I gave him a tight smile and sighed before winding
the tiny golden crank to listen to the song. "Braden's really quite
talented," I said quietly, mesmerized by the melody as though hearing it
for the first time.

"He's a good boy," Jeb admitted.
"He's impressionable, eager to make people happy, and wants to do the
right thing. He'll be okay on the outside. His brother…" He stopped and
shook his head. "I don't have much hope for that one."

"What do you think, Jeb? Do you think people
are born evil, or do you think society makes them that way?" If someone
had asked me that question before I met Braden and got to know him through his
letters, I would have had to think about it long and hard. I still didn't know
the
right
answer.

"I don't know, truthfully. Just like asking
if, because the boys are twins, can one be good and the other be the complete
polar opposite?" He took his eyes off the road and gave me a quick glance.
"Take you and you sister, for instance. You're nothing alike."

I frowned. "Olivia and I aren't twins."

"Well no, but you were born close together
and raised with the same rules. I'm not saying you're evil, Claire, I'm just
pointing out the differences in your personalities." His fingers tapped
restlessly on the steering wheel to some imaginary beat.

"Right. Olivia's the good daughter and I'm… well,
I'm
not
." I rolled my eyes at him. It wasn't anything I hadn't
heard before. The corners of his mouth twitched into a smile.

Rain was coming down in sheets by the time we got
back to Hensteeth. Jeb pulled up the driveway, dropping me off at the door. I
thanked him and ran to the house.

The house was quiet, and even though I knew they
were both home, I was relieved to see no one sitting in the kitchen when I came
in. It was early, but I was tired. Sitting in a constant state of anxiety might
have been great for my butt cheeks--since they had been clenched the whole time
I was at WTJDC--but my energy was zapped.

I wanted to sit down and pour out my feelings out
in a letter to Braden, but I didn't want him to think I was desperate or
grasping for something that was barely there, something as of yet indefinable.
How could I fucking identify what I was thinking and feeling about him when I
didn't even know? Nothing made sense.

What he stirred inside of me was completely
illogical. I'd only known him for a short time. Most of that was through the written
word. But the way my stomach clenched, the way my heart squeezed inside my
chest ...  he got to me, and he probably didn't even realize it.

"Ugh!" I groaned and headed down the
hall to take a long shower. When I came out of the steam-filled bathroom,
Olivia was leaning against the wall, staring pointedly at me, her arms crossed.
"What?"

"What's going on with you?"

I rubbed my hair with a towel and narrowed my eyes
at her. "Nothing."

She followed me to my room, and as much as I
wanted to slam the door in her prying face, I resisted. "I saw you get in
Jeb Sayer's truck after church today."

"Well, of course you did. You don't miss a
thing, do you?" I said bitterly, draping the dampened towel over the back
of my desk chair. "Not that it's any of your business, but I rode with Jeb
to see Braden."

She splayed her fingers across her chest and
stared at me, eyes widened. "Does Daddy know?"

"Not yet, but I imagine it won't be long
before he finds out." I glanced at my watch. "How long will it take
you to rush downstairs into his study and snitch on me? Again?"

She frowned and sat on the corner of my bed.
"I'm not telling him. Truthfully? I think it's badass."

My jaw dropped. "Easy there. It wasn't all
that amazing. We both spent a lot of time gawking at each other, with me
blushing like a freaking horny girl seeing her very first penis."

Olivia burst out laughing and collapsed against
the mattress. After a few minutes, she composed herself and sat up. "So,
is he cute?"

My face heated.
What the fuck was wrong with me
?
"You have no idea." I slowly shook my head and bit my wounded lip,
wincing from the pain. I wiped away the blood with an index finger.

"Now that we're in a sharing mood…" she
started.

I held up my hand. "No. Our five minutes of
bonding is over for today. I'm beat."

Her forehead wrinkled and she stood to leave.
"Alistair?"

I inhaled and blew out a noisy breath.
"Yes."

"He needs his ass kicked," she said
before leaving the room.

Braden
Sayer

Uncle Jeb would make a final visit in May, and I
would be out the first of June. I had no idea what Claire's impression of me
had been, but I decided to write and thank her for visiting. I probably wasn't
everything she expected. If I had the balls, I'd tell her she was what I
thought she'd be and so much more, but I didn't want to sound pathetic.

In all my years at WTJDC, I wanted nothing more
than my freedom--a chance to live life like a normal man. Now that my release
date was approaching I was a nervous fucking mess.

My problem was that I didn't know how to live an
ordinary, mostly unregulated life. There would be no one telling me when to get
up, or barking orders of lights out, and I'd eat when I wanted. My
rule-breaking thoughts were no more daring than telling myself I'd make my bed
when, and if, I felt like it and not because it was demanded of me.

The thing I feared most was also something I'd
desired all these years: How to behave like a free man. Sadly, there were no
rulebooks or manuals written--that I knew of--showing me how to do that.

Claire had asked if I was crossing the days off
the calendar. I hadn't been. Until after I met her, then I thought it didn't seem
like such a bad idea.

Before I started to write, I closed my eyes and
pictured her sweet face and imagined I could smell the scent of cherries.

Dear Claire,

I wanted to be sure
and let you know that it was really nice to meet you. I have to apologize for
not being talkative. I didn't think I was a shy person, but meeting you, having
you across the table, well, it stole the words right out of my mouth.

I'd be honored if you'd
ride along with Jeb when he comes to bring me back to Hensteeth. If you don't
want to, I'll understand. Getting so close to graduation and all, I bet you
have a lot more important things on your schedule than spending time with me.

I hope you didn't get
into trouble when you got home. The last thing I want is for you to get into
hot water because of me.

It's okay to stick to
your guns if you believe you're right, but it's also best to admit you're wrong
when you are.

You could never bore
me. I probably shouldn't admit this, but just sharing the same space with you
is nice.  

I've started to mark
the days off until I get out, like you suggested. I'm anxious, but in so many
ways, I'm as scared as a rabbit.

Mentally, I've started
that bucket list. I'm too embarrassed to write it down just yet, in case one of
these assholes around here were to get a hold of it and laugh at all the things
I've never been able to do before.

We will have to share
our stories about Devil's Fork Lake. Maybe you know a few that I don't, and I
bet I have one or two that you've never heard. You're not afraid of the dark,
are you? I didn't used to be, but the nights here are the worst. Hearing the
newest inmates cry at night twists my gut. I was once in their shoes and I know
how it feels. It's got to be the worst feeling in the world. I don't remember
exactly where it is, but my brother and I used to hide out in a cave around
there somewhere.