Dawson's Fall (Welcome to Covendale #5) (12 page)

She couldn’t bring herself to look at him as she left the room.

Another burst of knocking set her teeth on edge. She strode to the door and looked through the peephole, confirming it was Jason before she pulled it open and spat, “What are you doing here? It’s late.”

“Hey, Bree.” His words were slurred, his eyes red—and he reeked of alcohol. “You busy?”

“I was sleeping,” she intoned. “What the hell, Jason?”

“Sleeping.” He sneered and shook his head. “Mind if I come in?”

“Yes, I do.”

He pushed past her anyway and stood in the middle of the living room, swaying slightly and staring down at the coffee table—still littered with blueprints and two half-finished plates of pie. “I was just out for a walk,” he said. “You know, clearing my head. So I thought I’d stop by and ask you why Mark Dawson’s car is parked outside your place.”

She fought to control the dread swelling inside her. “Jason, you’re drunk,” she said. “Let me drive you home.”

“Yes. I am drunk. But I know what that bastard’s car looks like.” He flashed a chilling grin. “Looks to me like you’ve got company,” he said. “So where is he, Bree?”

“Get out of here. Right now.”

“No…I don’t think so.” Still grinning, he turned in a slow circle and stopped facing the back hallway leading to the bedroom. “I know you’re he-ere,” he said with a mocking lilt. “Three’s a crowd, Dawson. I’m coming for you.”

“Jason!”

He sent her a bland look. “It’s for your own good, little sis. Trust me.”

Before she could move, he darted for the hall with surprising speed.

She ran after him, more furious than she’d ever been. “Jason, I swear to God,” she called. “If you don’t leave…”

“You’ll what?” He reached the bedroom door first. “Someday you’ll thank me for this.”

She grabbed his arm just as he turned the knob. “I mean it,” she said. “Get out.”

“Not until I tear that son of a bitch apart.” He shrugged her off like she was nothing, and flung the door back.

The bed was empty.

“What the hell?” Jason wandered into the room, half-squinting. “Goddamn it, where is he?”

“I told you to leave.” Some of her numb terror had finally started to bleed away. She wasn’t sure how he’d done it, but there was no sign of Mark in there. “How could you act like this?” she said to her brother. “You barge into my house, raid my bedroom—what is
wrong
with you?”

“No. He’s here. I know it.” Jason stumbled over and opened the closet. Nothing but clothes. With a snarl, he went down on hands and knees to peer under the bed. Every place he looked made her panic increase…until she noticed the edge of the curtain caught in the window and realized Mark must’ve gone down the fire escape. She should have been relieved—but her heart disagreed. She hated herself for not standing up for him.

Jason scrambled upright and glared at her. “Where the hell is he?”

“He was never here!” The lie felt awful, but it was the only way to shame her brother into calming down. “You’ve had way too much to drink, and it’s a weeknight,” she said. “You’re being completely irresponsible. Dad would kill you if he knew—”

“Dad doesn’t give a shit what I do!”

There was genuine pain in his tone, and for the first time she considered what it must have been like for him while she was gone. Under their father’s thumb, steeped in the poison of misdirected hatred and never able to let go—because the objects of that hatred had never left, either. She’d escaped it all, and from his perception, she’d come back completely twisted around and insistent on befriending the enemy.

Suddenly she saw how ugly everything was through her brother’s eyes, and her heart broke for him.

“Come on,” she said gently, putting an arm around his waist. “Let me take you home.”

He blinked at her, stiffened for a moment, and finally allowed himself to be led. “I’m sorry, Bree,” he said in thick tones. “Wouldn’t hurt you. Won’t let anyone…hurt you.”

“I know.” Her throat tightened around the words. “I’m okay. Promise.”

It took a good ten minutes to get him down the stairs and outside. By then, Mark’s car was gone, and a deep twinge of sorrow twisted her gut.

Mark had been right the first time. The two of them just couldn’t happen.

Chapter 11

Aubrey showed up on time for work the next morning, not sure what to expect. What happened was a lot of nothing—because Mark seemed to have reverted to ignoring her.

She supposed she couldn’t really blame him, but that didn’t stop it from hurting.

For most of the morning, everyone was busy overseeing deliveries. Aubrey stayed in the trailer and half-watched the activities, wondering if she should really try to go through this for weeks, or months. She never should’ve accepted this job in the first place. At the least, when she realized who was running this show, she should’ve turned around and walked away. Saved herself the trouble.

But she never suspected it would go this far.

She looked out the window and saw Mark approaching the trailer, glancing around as he walked. Maybe she should just leave. Tell him that he was right, things weren’t going to work out—personally or professionally. She’d gotten as far as standing when he came in.

He barely looked at her as he closed the door. She thought about clearing her throat, starting with an apology, asking him why he’d decided she didn’t exist. If he was mad at her, she’d rather hear it than guess.

Before she could do any of those things, he backed her against the wall and kissed her senseless.

He drew back a fraction. “Hey,” he drawled, flashing a crooked smile.

“Um. Hi.” She couldn’t help returning the expression. “So I guess you’re not mad?”

“Not at you.”

The vice around her heart eased a little. “I’m really sorry about Jason,” she said.

He shrugged. “Don’t worry about it.”

“I can’t help it,” she said. “Sneaking around with you, it’s not fair. I don’t like doing it. But if I don’t—”

“Then we’re both in trouble. I get it…I really do.” That heart-stopping smile returned. “Besides, that was kind of fun. It’s been a long time since I ducked out of a bedroom window.”

“Really.” She arched a teasing eyebrow. “How many other bedroom windows have you ducked out of?”

“A few.”

“Anyone I know?”

Instead of answering, he grinned and kissed her again. “Doesn’t matter now,” he said. “I prefer yours.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah,” he said. “You’ve got a fire escape.”

Just then the door latch clicked, and Mark stepped back from her fast. Frustration flooded her as she tried to compose herself. Was this really all they could ever have—stolen moments and bedroom windows?

“Hey, boss.” Gage walked in without looking around much, obviously expecting Mark at the desk. “What do you want me to do with…oh. Er. Hi, Aubrey,” he said. “Didn’t even know you were here today.”

“You were saying?” Mark said drily.

Gage stared at him a moment. “Invoices,” he said, holding up a handful of paper slips. “Where do you want them?”

“Desk. Thanks.”

“Okay, then.” He dropped the pile on the desk. “Am I interrupting something here?”

“Goodbye, Gage.”

Instead of leaving, Gage glanced from one to the other, and a slow smile spread on his face. “Holy sh—uh, crap,” he said. “I did interrupt something.”

“Gage.” There was no mistaking the warning in Mark’s tone. “Get back to work. Now.”

“All right.” He held his hands up in mock surrender and backed toward the door. “It’s just nice that you’ve finally managed to get that stick out. Can I keep it? I want it framed.”

Mark took a step toward him. Grinning, Gage fled the trailer.

When he was gone, Mark let out a sigh. “Just ignore him,” he said. “Gage’s mission in life is to make me do ridiculous things, so he doesn’t look like such an idiot. He claims I don’t have enough fun.”

The remark reminded her of the overheard conversation with Jonah, who clearly felt the same as their youngest brother. “Well, do you?” she said.

“Do I what?”

“Have enough fun.”

He scowled. “Of course I do.”

“When’s the last time you did something fun?”

A wicked grin crossed his lips. “Last night.”

“Before that,” she said quickly as the memory heated her face. “And your couch doesn’t count, either.”

“Fine. It was…” He trailed off, and his brow furrowed. “Um.”

“You’ve got nothing.”

“I do have fun.” He frowned slightly. “A couple of weeks ago, I redesigned all my spreadsheets. With color shading.”

“And that’s your idea of fun?”

Anger flashed briefly in his eyes, but he controlled it. “What should I be doing, then?”

“First, let me ask you something,” she said. “What changed your mind?”

“About…”

“Us. You being okay with me, at least when nobody else is around.”

For a minute she thought he wouldn’t answer. At last he said, “I’m not sure. I guess I just can’t keep hating you. I can’t change anything, and I can’t stay away.” He offered a sad smile. “So I’ll take what I can get…for as long as you’ll let me.”

She nodded slowly. Maybe it was better than nothing, keeping whatever they had a secret—at least for now. And if they were going to sneak around, they might as well have some fun with it. “All right,” she said. “I have an idea.”

He gave her a suspicious look.

“Trust me.” She’d seen some loose leaf paper in the desk somewhere. She opened drawers until she found it, took out a sheet and grabbed a pen, then started writing.

“What are you doing?” Mark said, trying to look over her shoulder.

She shifted to block his view. “Something fun.”

“You sure about that?”

“Positive.” She finished the note, folded it, and wrote
For Your Eyes Only
on the outside. She debated adding a little heart, but that might be too cheesy. Grinning, she turned and took his hand, and pressed the note into it. “Don’t read it yet,” she said in a stage whisper. “Wait until you’re alone.”

“Passing notes?” he said. “We do have cell phones, you know. We could just text.”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

“Right. Fun.”

“That’s what it’s all about.” She made a show of looking around furtively, and then kissed him. “Now go, before we get caught.”

“Oh, man. I thought I was done with high school.” He smiled a bit as he slid the note into a pocket. “All right. I’m going.”

“See you later.”

He left the trailer, and Aubrey stood there a moment with her eyes closed, trying to convince herself this would work. It had to, because they didn’t have another choice. It would take a miracle for her family to even speak to a Dawson like a normal person, much less accept her being with Mark.

But she already knew that she couldn’t be without him.

* * * *

The day went by faster than Mark expected. By the end of work, they’d made up the lost ground and the shell was nearing completion. The budget had been knocked up by a few thousand, but it wasn’t a critical loss—yet. If it happened again, they’d be screwed.

He’d barely seen Aubrey, which was probably a good thing. He couldn’t seem to keep his hands off her. Especially after last night. Being with her like that, without the anger and judgment and all the baggage both of their families came with, was the closest he’d ever gotten to happiness. For the first time since he was a kid, he’d actually felt…good. He hadn’t wanted to fight something. Not even Jason Monroe.

It was just too risky to share with anyone else. He wasn’t even sure how Jonah felt about her—his brother had been sending a lot of mixed signals lately. But he couldn’t keep kidding himself about Aubrey.

He needed her.

She’d left a bit earlier than everyone else, but he managed to catch her alone to say goodbye. In a way that left him aching for more. He promised to read her note tonight, and grudgingly agreed to write back. The whole note thing felt ridiculous. But he had to admit that it was kind of sweet, too. He’d never been the note-passing type in high school. Most of his experiences were meetings around the back—making out or fighting, it didn’t matter which. Aubrey ran with a completely different crowd.

His crowd had mostly consisted of himself.

When he got home, Gage was already gone to Kyla’s place and Jonah was in the shower. Luka practically lived with Reese these days. Mark headed for the kitchen, grabbed a beer from the fridge, and sat down to read the stupid note. It was just four lines:

Will you meet me on the playground?

Tomorrow night, midnight.

Don’t tell anyone!

From your secret admirer

“The playground,” he murmured aloud, cracking the beer open. “Seriously?” He knew where she meant. All three of Covendale’s schools—elementary, middle, and high school—were situated around a huge field with a central playground that also served as the town park in the summer. He had no idea why she’d want to go there, but it didn’t sound like much fun to him.

Just as he was refolding the note, Jonah came in and made a beeline for the fridge. But instead of a beer, he took out a bottle of water. That meant he was working tonight. His second job was taking up a hell of a lot of time lately, and Mark worried that Verona might be pushing for something big. Now wasn’t the time to mention it, though—Jonah refused to discuss the loan shark when he was headed to meet him.

“Staying home again?” Jonah said, turning to lean on the fridge.

Mark shrugged. “No plans here.”

“Maybe you should make some.”

“Nah. I’m good.”

Jonah walked over and took a seat at the table across from him. “Gage seems to think you’re taking a little personal time on the clock,” he said.

“Of course he does,” Mark practically groaned. “And of course he’d tell you that.”

“Might not be a bad idea.”

“Come again?”

“I see how you look at her,” Jonah said. “The Monroe girl, I mean. You’ve got it bad.”

Mark snorted. “Even if I did, she’s—”

“Not so bad, really.” Jonah took a swig of water. “I saw her the other day, helping Reese out with the mess her family made. Ran into the sheriff, too. He was real put out that he had to investigate properly, and actually question the Monroes, because she said so.”