By the Pale Moonlight (Book One of the Moonlight Series) (21 page)

It was the soft clearing of a throat that at
last broke us apart.

Ty's mother stood in the doorway of the shed,
her eyes carefully masked as she took in the sight before her. Ty
whipped around, clearly caught off guard. His hair was standing on
end, the result of my fingers running through it during the heat of
our kiss. Ty's hand had been inching up my right thigh, and he
quickly moved it away. Thankfully, he didn't step away from the
table. His body acted as a human shield of shame, and I dropped my
head so I didn't have to look at his mother's face.

When no one spoke, I chanced a small peek
over his shoulder. His mother seemed to be fighting a war with her
emotions—part of her clearly found the situation hilarious, the
other part of her probably wanted to put a stop to something that
was about to get out of hand. In the end, she simply said, "Dinner
will be ready in thirty minutes," and closed the door softly behind
her.

"Oh God," I said, burying my face in Ty's
chest.

A soft rumble of laughter went through him,
and soon we were both laughing.

"So much for your super senses," I said,
choking on the words as a laugh escaped me.

"I was a bit distracted," Ty said. That only
sent us into another fit of laughter. When we had regained a
semblance of control, Ty stepped back, allowing me to adjust my
clothing. Thankfully everything had still been in place when his
mother had made her appearance. A heat warmed me at the thought of
what might have happened had she not interrupted. The same thoughts
seemed to be coursing through Ty's mind, and he made a point of not
looking at me until I had stepped down from the table. My arms were
covered with grime and grease—evidence of all the places Ty had
touched.

"Time for a shower," I said, trying to rub a
particularly dark spot off the inside of my arm.

"Ditto," Ty said, his cheeks flushing. "Make
it a cold one."

I bit my lip and quickly busied myself with
trying to make myself as presentable as possible. There were some
rags further down the table, and I grabbed one. This sent several
metal bits in all directions. I froze, following the path of one as
it made its way toward the edge—the hollow scrape of it as it
rolled across the wood, the dull thud as it landed on the soft dirt
floor. Ty went still behind me. I bent slowly to retrieve the small
item from the ground, cupping it in my palm as reality came
crashing back down.

It was a bullet. Silver. One of dozens hidden
beneath the cloth.

I turned to him, at last finding my voice.
"What is this?"

Tension had returned to Ty's shoulders. He
raised his eyes slowly. "Contingency plan."

A small graphite mold lay cracked open on the
table, several of its progeny now scattered nearby. I picked up
another and rolled both bullets in my palm. They grated against
each other, metal on metal. "Were you planning on telling me?"

He paused and cast his eyes to the ground
again. His silence was answer enough.

"I see," I said.

"I didn't want to upset you. We thought—"

My head jerked up. "We? Melanie knows about
this?"

His lips pinched together in obvious
annoyance with himself. "Yes. I asked her to get the materials for
me."

"Lovely." I slammed the silver bullets down
on the table. "Afraid poor, fragile Makenna couldn't handle it,
huh?"

"It had to be done, Mac." He pulled on a pair
of gloves and started gathering the scattered bullets. "Now, more
than ever." A flash of guilt darkened his features.

"You would never hurt me," I said.

Ty quirked a brow, glancing at my hands—the
bruise that was still fading on my cheek. "Clearly."

His tone put a stop to any protest I might
have made. But still, I couldn't accept defeat this easily. There
was no way in hell I could point a loaded gun at him and fire.
"There are other ways. There have to be."

"There aren't, and we both know it." He began
gathering up the bullets and placing them in a wooden container.
Small, easy to hide. A wave of helplessness washed through me.
Maybe he was right...

"I refuse to accept that," I said, barely
able to push the words through my lips. My throat felt tight,
constricted.

He kept his back to me, the distance between
us growing once again.

"I can't shoot you, Ty. I won't."

I turned and fled the building.

It took some time, but at last I pushed away
from my father's computer, satisfied I had found a solution. The
only problem was that I didn't know how to pull it all off.

My stomach rumbled with hunger, and I once
again tried to ignore it. When I had returned home, my mother had
been minutes away from putting dinner on the table. I had skated
right by her, saying I wasn't hungry. Truth was, despite every
effort to block it out, the image of myself pulling the trigger of
a gun pointed at Ty kept surfacing. I was afraid any food I ate
would only come right back up again. But now, apparently my body
had had enough.

I quietly made my way into the kitchen,
opening the fridge a crack to check out the options. My mother had
wrapped a plate in plastic wrap for me, and I popped it in the
microwave. I could hear the hum of the TV coming from the living
room. Afraid to disturb my parents or provoke questions I wasn't
prepared to answer, I sneaked up the stairs to my room, balancing
the plate of food in one hand, a Coke in the other.

I had printed several pages off the website I
stumbled across earlier, and I smoothed them across the bed as I
ate my dinner. The capture gun looked similar to a regular gun—only
instead of bullets, it held small darts with enough tranquilizer to
knock a large mammal out for hours. Ty definitely qualified.

Of course, there was no easy way of getting
my hands on one. The gun could probably be finagled, but the actual
tranquilizing agent would be difficult. Not exactly something you
could buy off of Ebay.

Letting this obstacle stop me wasn't an
option, though. If I didn't obtain one—and soon—Ty would see to it
that I went through with his plan.

The thought of approaching Melanie with the
idea kept coming back to me, but in the end I decided against it.
Admittedly, I wasn't exactly pleased with her at the moment. The
idea that she would go behind my back to help Ty make bullets
pissed me off, and there was no guarantee I wouldn't go off on the
small girl if I confronted her now. No, I would go this one
alone.

A soft knock came at my door, and I hurriedly
gathered the pages together and shoved them in my nightstand
drawer. "Come in," I said, once the pages were out of sight.

My mother poked her head inside the door.
"Everything okay?"

I nodded. Not wanting to look at her while I
told her a complete lie, I shoveled a heaping forkful of mash
potatoes into my mouth and pressed a napkin to my lips.

She pushed the door open further and stepped
partway across the threshold. "You've been awfully quiet
tonight."

I shrugged, swallowing. "Just busy."

That was the understatement of the century if
ever there was one. Time was slipping away fast—it was just two
short weeks until Ty's next cycle began. My eyes inadvertently
swept to the calendar above my desk. I had been marking the days
off with large red Xs. No matter what I did, time seemed to be
speeding up as the full moon approached.

My mother's eyes followed my line of sight, a
small smile playing across her lips. "I spoke with Shannon
earlier."

I nearly spit up the bite of roast beef I had
just taken. "Oh God."

My mother laughed, and came to sit on the
edge of my bed. I leaned back against the wall and pushed a pillow
into my face to hide.

I knew it would only be a matter of time
before Mrs. O'Neill and my mother compared notes. I just hadn't
realized it would be this soon.

"You didn't tell me," she said, a clear note
of glee in her tone.

"Yeah, well...I wonder why."

My face, I knew, was red, and there was no
way I was coming out of hiding with her grinning at me that way.
Talk about bad timing. Had she asked me the status of Ty's and my
relationship, I honestly couldn't have said. In the space of one
day we had gone from not speaking to one another, to practically
having sex in a shed of all places, and back again.

"I think it's wonderful," my mother said,
pulling the pillow away. "Granted, it's a heck of a way to find
out."

At that, she took on a firm Mom face—the one
that said I was still in trouble despite her general approval of
the situation.

"What happened with David?" she said.

My face hadn't returned to normal yet, but
the mention of David's name had a sobering effect on me. I
shrugged, knowing there was no possible way I could tell her the
truth. I only hoped she didn't know already. It seemed everyone
else did. I died a bit inside at the thought of her having a full
understanding of what had gone on between David and me. The
cheating, the pressure he put on me to have sex—all of which, I had
allowed in one way or another.

"He was never the one," I said finally,
meaning it. It was the best I could do given the situation.

Her eyes searched mine for a long time, as
though trying to glean more information than I had given. In the
end, though, she simply nodded and accepted my statement as enough.
Perhaps she would question me down the road, but for now, she was
satisfied.

"So, missy," she said, rubbing her hands
together. "We have some planning to do."

"Planning, for what?"

My mother tilted her chin down and gave me a
stern look. When I still didn't get what she was talking about, she
cocked her head toward the calendar above my desk. It took a moment
for things to register.

Months ago, I had decorated the day of
Homecoming with glitter and confetti. It was that day that had
snared my mother's attention. Clearly she believed Ty and I were
going.

"Oh no...that's...umm...yeah, I wasn't really
planning on going."

Another stern look. "Don't tell me he hasn't
asked you yet."

I didn't know how to tell her that the
subject had never even come up. And with everything going on, there
was no way I could ask Ty to take me. In reality, I hadn't given
the dance a single thought in weeks, despite all of the
preparations going on around me at school.

"I don't really... I don't really want to
go."

At that, a deep furrow appeared between my
mother's eyebrows.

"It's just," I said. "It's all so new—Ty and
me, I mean. It's a little early to...you know, to go public."

I almost snorted at the ridiculousness of it
all. Ty and I had known each other our entire lives. Even if we
wanted to keep our "relationship" on the down low, there was
absolutely no one in our school who would question the idea of us
going to a dance together. As friends. We'd done it back in 9th
grade when we were both unwilling to go stag to the spring
dance.

"I just don't want to go."

My mother squinted her eyes at me. "He hasn't
asked you."

It wasn't a question.

She stood. "Well, I'll fix that." I had no
doubt she was on her way to yet another phone conversation with
Mrs. O'Neill. Mortified, I scrambled off the bed and blocked the
door before she could escape.

"God, Mom. It's no big deal. I don't want to
go."

Surprisingly, I meant it.

Hands on hips, she stared me down. "Makenna
Rose Wilhelm. You're going. I'm not going to let you ruin this for
me."

My mouth gaped open in shock. "Ruin...for
you...what?" I couldn't help the laugh that bubbled out of me.

It took a moment for her to follow suit, but
even she laughed at her declaration. "I mean it, Makenna. I don't
want you to miss out on this."

That sent us off into another fit of giggles.
It had been a day chock full of highs and lows. Leave it to Mom to
bring it back up again.

"Okay, okay," I said, "I'll talk to Ty."

She smiled and brushed a lock of hair behind
my ear. "This is going to be a very special day for me."

When she left the room, both of us were still
laughing.

I closed the door with a soft click and
pressed my back to it. Only then did the reality of everything I
needed to make happen over the next few days set in.

"Crap."

It was well past midnight by time Ty crawled
through my bedroom window. It had been this way all week. Him
arriving late in the night, probably hoping I was already asleep.
That way we could avoid talking to one another.

Most nights I feigned being asleep. Whether
or not he believed I actually was, he let me pretend, choosing to
silently crawl into bed beside me. One night I stirred to watch him
undress down to his boxers and T-shirt. Our eyes met in the
darkness, but we had both turned away without speaking.

I was determined tonight would be different.
When he entered, I sat up and clicked on the small bedside lamp. He
didn't flinch at the sudden burst of light, only kept his eyes down
as he quickly shed his clothing.

"Your mom spilled the news already," I said.
Earlier, I had decided it was pointless to skirt around the
subject. A direct approach was necessary right now. I didn't have
time to leave the question of the dance up in the air. Not with
everything else battling for my attention. Even with that firm
resolution in mind, it was difficult to broach the subject so
blatantly. My cheeks already felt warm and I hadn't even gotten to
the crux of the situation.

He focused on me, but didn't speak.

"Thing is—they expect us to go to
Homecoming." I said the words quickly, figuring it was best to
purge them all at once lest I chicken out. "I know the timing is
horrible, trust me, I know. But my mom wouldn't take no for an
answer. And you know yours won't either. We have to go."