Justine Davis - Errant Angel

Dalton fought off the twinge her words caused. “I didn’t turn my back on him. I’m just not used to having a kid around all the time.”

“So tell him you’re busy, to come back tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow’s not going to be any better.”

“Nice philosophy. And now you’ve got Jimmy believing it, too.”

“I can’t help what he believes.”

Her eyes widened. “You don’t honestly believe that, do you? He idolizes you! You could make him believe whatever you want.”

“Idols,” he said flatly, “usually have feet of clay. He might as well learn that early.”

She studied him for a long moment. “Did yours?” she asked softly.

Caught off guard by the unexpected question, the answer slipped out before he could stop it, a harsh whisper that was barely audible.

“No.”

He backed up a step, unable to bear the gentle understanding in her eyes. That was three times now she’d gotten to him, gotten through to a part of him buried so deep it should have been impossible. It was as if she could read his mind somehow, as if she knew his deepest thoughts, things he rarely dragged out into the light himself.

“Who was he, Dalton?”

His entire body tensed. He wasn’t sure if it was because she was treading ground upon which he never let anyone walk, or if it was something much more primitive, much more elemental: the sound of his name in that low, soft voice. The only thing he was certain of was that this had to stop. Now.

“None of your business,” he said harshly.

“I see,” she said in that same gentle tone, and he had the oddest feeling that it was literally true, that she saw everything, clear down to the twisted, shriveled darkness of his soul. Pressure built up inside him as the threat closed in. This woman, and the boy she was so valiantly fighting for, could make him lose sight of why he’d come here. He couldn’t let that happen.

“Look,” he growled, “I don’t have time for this. And I don’t have time for that damn kid hanging around and asking questions all the time, let alone having him drag in everybody else in town.”

It was a moment before understanding dawned in her eyes.

“You mean me, don’t you?” Astonishment echoed in her voice. “You’re angry at Jimmy because he brought me here? And you’re making him pay for my intrusion? Of all the misguided— How dare you?”

He’d known she was angry when she’d first come in, but there was little doubt that now she was furious. He’d never known brown eyes could be icy, but these were.

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