The Hard Truth About Sunshine Read online

  Were we just totally caught up in the moment when it came to that kiss? Or what about her holding my hand with such affection? I imagine it was because she was grateful to me for stepping in to rescue Connor? Because I was willing to go to the mat for that kid, and she loves him like a kid brother.

  That's all it was, right?

  Our motel is one of those cheap strip buildings with a long row of units to the left and right of the main office. There's a pool off to the side that's empty and moldy looking. The rooms are so old that they have actual antique-looking keys to open the room doors, and they smell musty.

  Our rooms are next to each other, our stuff already brought in before we'd left for dinner and the cemetery. When I park the Suburban in front of my room, Barb's tone is surprisingly gentle when she says, "Connor... wake up."

  I look in the rearview mirror to see her nudging his shoulder. His head pops up, and he blinks his eyes at her before wiping a tiny bit of drool off his chin. Barb actually gives what I think might be a smile as I saw the very corners of her mouth curl upward maybe an eighth of an inch.

  We all exit the Suburban. Connor starts toward our room, and Barb walks to hers as she pulls a room key out. Just as she's unlocking the door, Jillian meets me at the front of the Suburban and says, "Christopher... can I talk to you a moment out here?"

  Barb looks over her shoulder, her eyebrows raised in surprise for a moment before she heads inside and closes the door. A tiny thrill runs through me. I'm not sure if it's fear or excitement over what Jillian wants from me, but I just nod my head at her and toss the room key to Connor. He makes a move to grab it and misses. The key clatters to the concrete walkway in front of the door. He gives me a sheepish grin, bends over to pick it up, and goes into our room.

  I turn to Jillian and try to appear cool, shoving my hands into the pockets of my shorts. "What's up?"

  "I want to talk about that kiss," she says outright, but even her bluntness has a melodic ring to it.

  I shrug. "No biggie. I'm sure it was just--"

  "I'd like to do that again," she says softly, but the impact of her words slam into me hard.

  "You what?" My voice is harsh and disbelieving. "Why?"

  Jillian smiles, and it's the one she's given me a few times before so I recognize it. It's the smile of understanding... as if she knows what drives the words that come out of my mouth, even if I don't.

  She takes two steps and comes toe to toe with me. I punch my hands further into my pockets as I look down at her. She does her classic chin lift so she can see me better under those droopy eyelids. Without shame, hesitation, or second thoughts, she puts a hand right in the center of my chest where I know she can feel the mad gallop of my heartbeat.

  "I'd like you to kiss me again," she says sweetly. "The last one wasn't long enough."

  "I don't understand," I mutter, because I'm convinced--absofuckinglutely convinced--that this is wrong and I'm being played somehow.

  Jillian tilts her head as her eyebrows draw inward. "What's not to understand? I like you. I really liked our first kiss. I want to do it again, so I'm asking. Unless you found it lacking, of course."

  I ignore the "lacking" comment and focus on the source of my apprehension. "You like me?"

  She rolls her eyes at me. It's a slow effort because of her condition, but I get the message. My question was apparently stupid.

  "Yes, I like you," she says in exasperation.

  My eyes narrow at her. "Why?"

  Jillian tilts her head back and laughs, and when she looks back at me under the slight weight of her eyelids, the blue of her eyes is sparkling with amusement. "Well, because you're hot, of course. My vision might be bad, but I can still see that."

  Okay, that's just bullshit.

  And it's like she read my mind, because she steps in just a bit closer to me and murmurs, "And don't think for a moment your injuries take away from your hotness."

  "Bullsh--"

  "I mean... you're an asshole. A hot asshole and it's weird I'm attracted to that. But let's be honest, you're not that good of an asshole."

  Now I'm confused. "Huh?"

  "You're a bit inconsistent to be honest," she says with a cute shrug and a slow bat of her eyelashes. "You say mean things to deflect, but it's really kind of obvious. You internalize, and I'm sure you've got a million reasons to do so. You never talk about what happened to you or how you feel about it, and you clearly don't want to. So you do asshole-like things to push people away. Like I said... totally obvious."

  "What does that have to do with liking me?" I ask in a low voice, but before she can answer me, her phone starts ringing. She pushes a hand into her back pocket and deftly hits the button that sends the call to voice mail.

  Jillian is a popular person, apparently, because her phone rings a lot even though she never answers it. Connor asked her about it once, but she just said, "I like texting better than talking."

  Made sense to me because I'm the same way.

  Jillian smoothly continues, the ringing of the phone already dismissed and forgotten. "My theory is that because you're not that great at the whole asshole thing, you probably weren't always that way. And I'd like to find out more about the real Christopher Barlow. But until you choose to do that, I'll just stick with the 'you're hot' reason why I want to kiss you and go with that."

  A bubbling sensation forms inside my throat, way down low. It roils, surges upward, and feels completely foreign as it bursts free from my mouth.

  It's a laugh.

  A completely take-me-by-surprise laugh that I had no intention of giving, and frankly, I didn't think I had it in me to give. But goddamn, she's funny and sweet, and she makes me think there could possibly be hope for me.

  Jillian grins back at me.

  "Christ," I mutter as my left hand slides out of my pocket and wraps around the back of her neck where I grip her gently. "You're like a blaze of bright sunshine that the fucking darkest sunglasses can't repel."

  She gives me a pouty look. "That's a compliment, right?"

  I answer her with that kiss she asked for because in this moment, Jillian forgives me for being an asshole and she thinks I'm hot. I've been a risk-averse kind of guy for the last few years, but right now, I'm thinking she's a sure bet.

  For the kiss, I mean.

  When our lips first touch, my entire body relaxes for a moment as if this is the most natural thing in the world. Then Jillian boldly opens her mouth to touch her tongue to mine, and my entire body tightens. My fingers dig slightly into her neck, and I have to suppress the groan that wants to tear free. Jillian sighs into my mouth, her tongue rolling against mine. A breathy, dreamy, satisfied sound that makes me feel every bit a man.

  It's the best fucking kiss I can remember, which means it's time to pull away. I end the kiss with a soft brush of my lips against hers. I end it because that was about as perfect as it can get, and I don't want anything else to mar that right now.

  I stare down at her as she slowly opens her eyes, a wistful curve to her lips. When she focuses on me, she says, "That was good."

  "It was." My admission is reluctant because it would be so much easier if the kiss had been bad.

  Jillian rubs her thumb along my breastbone before stepping away from me. "I hope we do that again. Good night, Christopher."

  I stand there silently and watch her as she goes to her room. She gives a knock on the door without looking back at me, and Barb opens it within a few seconds. Jillian disappears inside, and I am more confused than ever.

  When I walk to the room I'm sharing with Connor, I see he's left the deadbolt engaged so the door remains slightly cracked open. When I enter, I see him on the bed closest to the bathroom, surfing on his phone.

  He looks over at me and gives me a sly grin.

  "What?" I ask defensively, wondering if he was watching out the window or something.

  Connor shakes his head. "Nothing."

  "Damn right, nothing," I mutter as I pull my toiletry kit ou
t of my bag.

  I walk past his bed toward the bathroom, but his words stop me dead. "She really likes you."

  My head whips to look at him. "What makes you say that?"

  "Because she told me."

  "She did?" I ask dubiously.

  "Yeah," he returns with a confident nod of his head. "Totally."

  I still don't really understand why. I know she said the whole "hot" thing, and she alluded to me not really being an asshole, but now I find out she's told Connor she likes me.

  Maybe there's some truth to it.

  Maybe I'm just a way to pass her time.

  In an unprecedented burst of candor, I tell Connor an absolute lie that should be hard truth. "I don't think I'm interested."

  "Why?" His eyebrows are up high, the expression on his face incredulous. "She's amazing."

  Apparently, now that I've staked my position to Connor, I feel the need to defend it. "I've been burned before. Not interested in going there again."

  "Burned? How?"

  I give a sigh and brush my fingers through my hair. "Long story short, I had a girlfriend who dumped me when I came back with parts of me left in the desert."

  Connor winces, but I give him the rest.

  "My parents never came to see me during my recovery; it was too much on them. I'm not keen on facing the whole potential for abandonment again."

  Propping up on his elbow, Connor levels me with a solemn look. "Christopher, I don't think them abandoning you had anything to do with your injuries. I think it had everything to do with the fact that they're the assholes. They're the ones who are deficient and weak--the ones who are broken."

  "Maybe so," I say in agreement. "But it's sort of left me with trust issues."

  It's a sympathetic look that Connor gives me. "And anger issues. No wonder you're an asshole. I totally understand it now though."

  I can't help the snicker that pops out. For some reason, Connor's got me relaxed, so I admit, "Besides... someone like Jillian is too good for the likes of me."

  "She's not like that," Connor insists. "She doesn't look at you as broken or less than anything."

  "I don't mean that," I say with a shake of my head. The minute Jillian grabbed my deformed hand, I knew she saw past the scars. "I mean, my baggage is too heavy. My issues are too dark. I'd drag her down so fast that her light would be extinguished."

  "Or," Connor suggests, "her light is so bright it will drive away your darkness."

  I make a non-committal noise. It's a nice thought, but I'd be a fool to hope it's true.

  Chapter 14

  I had our cross-country route all planned. My preference had been to drive straight across from Raleigh to Los Angeles, which could be done in roughly thirty-five hours. Connor, however, had wanted to see a specific part of the Pacific Ocean, a placed called Cannon Beach in Oregon. This added ten hours onto my original plan as we had to cut up northwest. Then I made a deviation so Barb could piss on her abusive uncle's grave.

  That's fine. Back on track and headed to Denver.

  Granted, we could do this trip a lot faster with continuous driving, but I don't trust anyone else to drive my vehicle. Jillian can't see, Connor is just too inexperienced, and Barb would likely drive us off a cliff. I have to settle with driving nine to ten hours a day or more and stretching the trip by a few days.

  To help compensate for this extra time on the road, my plan today is to drive hard to make it to Denver by dinnertime, which is why I insisted we leave at six this morning.

  Things are never that easy though. Jillian throws a monkey wrench at me, which is something I actually think she derives pleasure in doing. As I'm rearranging some stuff in the rear of my SUV, waiting on the others to come out of the rooms, Jillian suddenly appears at the tailgate.

  "Good morning," she says hesitantly.

  I turn to look at her. With a sigh, I ask in a long, drawled-out tone, "What do you want?"

  I'd come to recognize that look on her face when she was going to ask for something that she was pretty sure she wouldn't get. It was the same look on her face when she proposed this trip, and when she told me she had forgotten her wallet and needed to borrow money.

  "Can we make a change to the route again?" she asks quickly, and I try not to focus on her lips as she talks. Reminds me too much of our kisses. "It's really not that much out of the way. Maybe an additional five hours of driving time, but we can make that up."

  With a cocked eyebrow, I stand straight and fold my arms across my chest. "Where to?"

  "Yellowstone," she practically gushes. "Connor would love to see Yellowstone, and I Googled it... the difference we lose by not going to Boise after Denver is really only about five hours."

  "For fuck's sake, Jillian," I say sarcastically. "It won't add just five hours onto the trip. It will add an entire day once we get there because you don't just look at the sign at the front of the park and leave. You have to drive around and see shit."

  "I know," she pleads with me. "But come on, Christopher. He's dying. Why can't you give another day of your time to make this happen?"

  Just two days ago, my answer would have been, "Because I don't give a fuck he's dying."

  But today, I'm apparently a slightly different man as I find myself nodding in acquiescence without any real hesitation. "Okay, fine."

  After Denver, we're headed to Yellowstone.

  Because not only has the little twerp grown on me, but shamefully, so has Jillian. I think about those two kisses and what more could potentially come from that, knowing deep down, I'm not put out one bit by spending extra time on the road. I've finally given in to the notion that this trip might not be so bad after all.

  "How many more times are you going to use that "he's dying" thing when you want something?" I ask her with a mock glare. "Because that will get old at some point."

  Jillian laughs, and it's warm and husky. It makes my entire body flush with tingles. "Maybe I'll have to figure out some other inducement to offer you then."

  Yeah, I could get on board with that.

  We're cruising north to Denver where we'll be going further north into Wyoming rather than west to Boise, but whatever. An extra day or five isn't going to matter in the grand scheme of things. I'm committed to this trip now.

  Since I'm not smoking, the windows are up and the air conditioning is blasting. We're into our sixth round of 21 Questions.

  "Is it a person?" I ask.

  Jillian says, "No. That's one."

  "A place?" Connor says from the back.

  "No. That's two," Jillian responds as her fingers drum against her thigh to music playing on low volume. Good song too... Somebody Told Me by The Killers. As the driver, I get sole choice of the music. I have my iPhone plugged into the auxiliary audio so I can play what I want.

  Back to my turn as Barb isn't playing. She has her earbuds in, bopping to some unknown song as she looks out the window. "An object?"

  "Yes," Jillian admits slowly. "Three questions down."

  "Bigger than a house?" Connor guesses.

  "Yes," she says, now sounding nervous. "That's four."

  "In the United States?" I try to narrow it down.

  "Yes," she mutters. "Five."

  "The Empire State Building," Connor says from the back.

  "Damn it," Jillian grumbles as she slouches down in her seat and crosses her arms over her chest. "How can you make such lucky guesses?"

  I chuckle because the kid is really good at this game. It's probably just luck, which is weird because I'd call him anything but lucky given his circumstances.

  "Want to play again?" Connor asks.

  "No," Jillian and I say in unison. Turning, we grin at each other. The game kind of sucks, but it's to keep Connor busy so he doesn't gab about inane things.

  One thing I've realized about Connor during this road trip, especially now that he seems to be feeling better than that first day, is that he needs something to do. He can't just sit quietly and look at the scenery. He pract
ically buzzes with energy, and maybe that's his body's way of compensating for all the things he has to accomplish before he dies.

  "Hey, Barb," Connor says, and I glance into the rearview mirror as he leans toward her to nudge her arm.

  Barb pulls out the earbud that's closest to Connor, not even glaring at him which is strange but I'll count as progress on her end. She just lifts her eyebrows and asks, "What's up?"

  "What are you listening to?" he asks.

  My eyes flick back to Barb through the mirror as she growls, "None of your business," before she stuffs the bud back in.

  Undaunted and perhaps feeling more secure that Barb won't slit his throat since she actually tried to save him from Keith last night, I watch as Connor grins mischievously and pulls the earbud out. He quickly leans closer before Barb can even object and puts it up to his ear.

  My eyes go back and forth between the road and the mirror to see what happens.

  "You little fucker," Barb snarls as she pulls the bud back from him. "Give me that."

  Connor's face goes slack with awe as he stares at Barb with big eyes. "Whoa. You listen to Taylor Swift?"

  This gets Jillian's attention, and she actually undoes her seatbelt to turn all the way around in her seat to look at them.

  "She listens to Taylor Swift?" Jillian asks with astonishment.

  "Yeah," Connor says as if he's seen the Second Coming of Christ.

  "What song was it?"

  "Shake It Off."

  Jillian's head nods up and down. "Excellent choice."

  I have no clue what the fuck they're talking about. I mean, I know who Taylor Swift is but I can't say I've ever listened to one of her songs. I prefer rock and grunge.

  Another flick of my eyes to the mirror and I see Barb glaring at Jillian, which is why she can't react when Connor grabs her iPhone, deftly pulling the plug to the earbuds out. He hands the phone to Jillian and says, "Plug it in. Let's all sing it."

  "Goddamn it," Barb snarls as she makes a lunge for the phone, but Jillian's quick. She flips around in her seat, pulls the cord out of my phone without asking for permission, and plugs Barb's in. When she gives the screen a tap, the beginning notes of a song starts.

  Jillian reaches forward, turning the volume knob way up, and my car fills with nasty-ass pop music. But I let it go because of three things. Connor's bouncing in his seat and singing, Jillian's turned halfway in hers, grinning back at Connor as she shakes her shoulders back and forth to the beat, but most importantly because Barb is now slouched down in her seat, arms crossed over her chest, with the sourest look on her face.