Dead Silence (Stillwater Trilogy 1)

“You know what I want. The truth. And I want Kennedy to hear you say it.”

“Joe—” Kennedy began.

Grace lifted a hand to stop him. She refused to come between Kennedy and his old friend. She wanted to leave Stillwater knowing his life was as perfect as it had always been. “Don’t, he doesn’t bother me,” she said and stalked to her tent, doubly convinced that they had to move the reverend’s remains. They had to hide them deep in the woods and let Joe search the farm. It was a gutsy move, but if it worked, she stood to convince the whole town that her family had nothing to do with the reverend’s disappearance. Then they might be able to live normal lives.

The cool night air ruffled Kennedy’s hair as he crouched outside Grace’s tent. “Grace.”

He heard her stir, but she didn’t respond.

“Grace,” he whispered again and scratched the nylon fabric with his flashlight to gain her attention.

“What?” She sounded groggy, confused.

“Head down to the bathrooms.”

“But…why?”

“Shhh,” he admonished, and said nothing more. He didn’t want to wake Joe, who was sleeping off the whiskey in his own two-man tent.

Grace emerged wearing flip-flops, a pair of pajama bottoms and a sweatshirt turned wrong side out. She walked several feet before snapping on her flashlight. Then, as he’d directed, she started down the path to the Port-a-Potties. When she was halfway there, Kennedy fell in step beside her.

As he approached, the snap of a twig brought her light up so she could see him, but he quickly covered her hand to keep the beam on the ground with his. “What are you—” she started.

He squeezed to communicate the need for silence, and she let her words fall away.

When they reached the bathrooms, he turned off both flashlights and led her around the small building. He wasn’t sure how he’d expected her to react to his late-night summons, but the way her fingers curled through his the moment he took her hand surprised him. She felt fragile and cold, which only made him more certain of his decision.

“Where are you taking me?” she asked.

He pulled her into the woods. “Here,” he said when he was fairly confident they could speak without being overheard.

“Why?”

He squinted to see her more clearly. The towering trees obscured most of the moonlight. “We need to talk.”

Wariness entered her voice. “No, we don’t.”

“Tell me about the Bible, Grace,” he said. “What were you doing at Jed’s? Why did you have it?”

She shook her head. “Stay out of it, Kennedy.”

The questions were making him crazy, but he was better off not knowing. With a sigh, he stretched the taut muscles in his neck. “You’re right. Forget I asked.” What was the point? He had the Bible in his pocket. He’d brought her out here to give it back.

“So what are you going to do with it?” she asked. “Have you decided?”

He could tell she was wary of his answer. “What would your next move be if I turned it over to you?”

“Is that a real possibility?”

The suspicion in her voice made him a little angry. “You think I’d hold you, kiss you, tell you I want to make love to you, then throw you to the wolves?”

She didn’t answer, but his anger wilted as he realized that was exactly what his friends had done to her, again and again, in high school. She could probably no longer link sexual desire with loyalty or anything positive.

“Would you hide it somewhere?” he asked.

“I’d burn it,” she said simply. “And I’d ask you to forget you ever saw it, to go on with your life as if nothing ever happened.”

He hesitated. “And you?”

“What about me?”

“Am I supposed to forget you, too?”

“What other option do you have?”

He couldn’t really answer that, but he was too used to getting what he wanted to believe he couldn’t have it now. Only death seemed capable of cheating him. “You feel what I feel, Grace.”

She didn’t agree, but she didn’t deny it, either.

“It’s true, isn’t it?” he prompted.

When she stared mutinously up at him, he decided to prove it. Setting their flashlights on the ground, he slipped his hands under her sweatshirt and spanned her waist, rubbing her soft skin with his thumbs. She clasped his forearms, but he wasn’t sure if she meant to hold him where he was or push him away.

“Touching you, even as innocently as this, makes me drunk with desire,” he whispered. “I want to feel you beneath me, pulling me inside you.”

She closed her eyes and swayed toward him, and his heart began to pound as his mouth found the curve of her neck. Breathing in the scent of their campfire, which lingered in her hair, he kissed the indentation below her ear while sliding a hand up her shirt. She moaned as he cupped her breast, as if she’d surrender all resistance.

But then she shoved away and stepped out of reach, leaving them both shaken.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“We can’t do this.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m afraid of what you make me feel.”

“Feeling isn’t bad, Grace.”

She raked her fingers through her hair. “It is for me. I’m not capable of loving you, just a little and only for a while.”

Just a little and only for a while? Was that what he was asking?

Maybe so. He wanted a meaningful relationship, something to fill the vacuum Raelynn’s death had created. But even if he and Grace could overcome their own history, he could never offer her a long-term commitment. The thought of them together would be enough to put his father in the grave. And that was only one of the many ramifications.

Yet he couldn’t give her up.

“I’ve had a good relationship in the past. I know what it can be like,” he said.

“What does that mean to us?”

“It means maybe you should trust me. I’m not like Joe.”

“You’re demanding I be vulnerable.”

“I’m willing to be vulnerable, too,” he said, even though he knew he’d be vulnerable in a completely different way.

She shook her head. “We’d be heading straight for a brick wall.”

“Risk it,” he entreated. “Lower your guard this once. See where our friendship leads.”

She seemed to waver. “No,” she said at last.