The past was best left there as far as he was concerned.
AUDREY STAYED QUIET on the ride to the Napiers’. No matter what she believed about Jenson Napier, or believed him to be might be a better way to put it, his mother truly had had no idea what the sheriff might want to say to her.
Parents rarely saw their teens as they were. Then again, young people at that age were trying to figure themselves out, so it would be impossible for their parents to know them. Puberty changed most everything about them for a few years at least, or so she’d been told time and time again by surprised parents. Surprised because she was at their door with their once-sweet-and-innocent child who’d been caught breaking into a vehicle or with an illegal substance. The first time it happened was always a shock, even when the parents admitted their child had become withdrawn and they’d been worried about them. There was a fine line in the teen years between giving them space when they became sullen and too introspective, and realizing they’d gone to a dark side and needed to be pulled back.
For this and many other reasons, Audrey had no plans to become a mother. Becoming a parent was a terrible thing to do to a child, in her opinion. If anyone had doubts, they could take her family as living proof.
Duke parked in front of the small ranch-style house in a tree-lined neighborhood near the hospital. Chain-link fences encased front yards, and a cracked sidewalk reflected the damage from too-hot summers and too much sun.
He checked his phone. “The sheriff left five minutes ago.”
Any excuse to turn around and bolt was gone, too. So Audrey took in a deep breath and exited the truck as Duke came around the front to open her door.
She used to like when he opened doors for her. Not now. It reminded her too much of how they used to be with each other in a more innocent time. She remembered too easily how sweet he’d been with her and how hard she’d fallen for him in a matter of days after arriving at the Remington ranch.
Audrey remembered how timid she’d been like it was yesterday. She’d hid her bruises under makeup and refused to come out of her room the first few days after arriving at the ranch. Crystal, Jules and Abi tried knocking on her door at different times to check on her, which she appreciated. But it was Duke who sat next to her door and told her to take her time.
He’d reassured her there was nothing to be afraid of, that no one could get to her while he was sitting outside the door. He slept sitting up those first few nights, sensing she’d come from a dangerous situation. One night, she sat on the opposite side of the door with her back against it, hugging her knees into her chest, talking. She didn’t say much at first. He opened up, though. He acquainted her with everyone on the ranch, giving her the ins and outs of everyone’s personality. He shared his favorite color, light blue like the sky on a spring morning. He shared his favorite food, slow-cooked brisket. And he shared his fear that he would grow up and be just like his own father.
The last admission resonated. The raw honesty struck a nerve inside her that gave her the courage to open up a little bit to him. The next night, she kept the door cracked when they talked, with only the moonlight pouring in her window. It took a week to work up to being in the same room.
Eventually, Duke sat on her floor, his back against the dresser and hers against the bed frame as they got to know each other. Audrey wished she could tell him everything, all the horror she’d been through and how much she blamed herself for the abuse she’d suffered at the hands of her parents after her sister’s death. By the end of the summer, she’d been close to being able to open up that part of herself.
The Remingtons asked no questions. They welcomed a stranger into their home. In three months, they showed Audrey what unconditional love meant.
And then, Audrey had to leave. She had to walk away from the temporary sanctuary and back to a life she never wanted.
“Hey.” Duke’s voice broke through the dark heavy cloud of thoughts.
Audrey realized she’d stopped in front of the gate at the Napier home. “Sorry.”
“Where’d you go just now?” Duke asked, his forehead creased with concern.
“Nowhere,” she quickly said. Too quickly? She probably just gave herself away, but she couldn’t talk about those memories with him, and she sure as hell didn’t want to lie. That would betray everything they’d shared. She shook her head. “The past. Sometimes it rears its ugly head, and I...” She flashed her eyes at him.
“It’s okay,” he reassured her, but there was distance in his tone.
It was fine. Necessary. For the good of both of them. Getting too close would be touching a hot stove twice. Because this time, he would be the one to leave, and it would break her. Audrey couldn’t, wouldn’t go there again. Losing him once was enough for one lifetime.
Audrey mentally shook off the fog, reached for the handle and pushed the gate open. “After you.”
Duke’s smile didn’t reach his eyes when he said, “Not a chance. You go first.” He put his hand on the gate to keep it from automatically closing and then held out his free hand to usher her inside the yard.
Several of the yards in the neighborhood had toys littered around. There was a dump truck in one, and a bright orange-and-blue plastic slide that stood about four feet high in another. In the Napiers’ yard, there were no such signs of small children. They’d had two teenagers...had being the operative word. And they had just received the life-altering news no parent should ever have to endure.
It was impossible to be mad at Jenson for what he’d done even though Audrey still felt violated by the young man.
Standing in front of the Napiers’ front door, she had a moment of hesitation about knocking. She’d been so certain this visit would make a difference in the way she slept at night. Would it? Would it make a hill of beans’ difference? Or would it just rub salt in a wound?
Based on Stephanie Napier’s reaction at the hospital, the woman still fell into the camp of blissfully unaware parents.
Before Audrey could change her mind, the door swung open, and Stephanie stood on the other side. Her red-rimmed eyes and tearstained cheeks confirmed the sheriff had already paid a visit just like his text had said.
“Come inside,” Stephanie said before turning around and walking away, leaving the door open.
Chapter Nine
Duke placed his hand on the small of Audrey’s back as gentle reassurance before they walked inside the Napier house. She glanced up at him with a look of appreciation that stirred a place deep inside. She’d always done that to him, from the first time they met face-to-face in her hallway under the moonlight to now, years later, despite all the baggage between them.
Morris Napier stood five feet eleven inches if Duke had to guess. He was thick with muscular arms and tree trunks for legs. Funny how this man had seemed so big to Duke when he was just a young buck back in middle school and Morris was twenty years old. Morris was known for making a living by cutting firewood. He’d buy slabs from sawmills, then bring ’em home to cut in his shed. When Duke, his sisters and cousins came into town for trick-or-treating, Morris built out a full-fledged haunted house inside his shed, complete with gooey slime for brains and jump scares. That was a long time ago.
“Mr. Napier,” Duke said, extending a hand to the bearded man. His defeated demeanor wasn’t at all like the normally good-natured person Duke recalled. To be expected, though, after hearing devastating news.
The broken father took Duke’s hand and still gave it a vigorous shake. “I’m guessing you’re here about my boy.” Morris’s voice hitched on the last word.
“Yes, sir,” Duke said, hating to do anything that might add to the Napiers’ pain.
“Can I fix either of you a cup of coffee?” Stephanie asked after perfunctory greetings.
“No, thank you,” Audrey said.
“I’m good,” Duke added. “If you need one, go ahead. We’ll wait.”
Stephanie shot him a look that was a mix of gratitude and sorrow. It was one of the most pitiful expressions Duke had ever witnessed. It was the look of a mother who’d just lost her young son and was still trying to process the news.
“We can sit here at the table,” Stephanie urged, twisting her hands together.
The Napier home looked like almost any other in the area with a circular recliner-style couch directly across from an oversize flat-screen TV. There was an oval-shaped coffee table in between, with stacks of magazines and books on top along with a few porcelain figurines. A basketball sat to one side of the room. Duke wanted to ask if it belonged to Jenson but figured it wasn’t important under the circumstances. He was curious about the teen’s life and his habits that might have led him to think peeping on women was a good idea.
