Alistair McIntyre - Shallow Creek

“Why have I never heard this story before?”

“Because we all agreed not to talk about it. Ever.”

“Why not? Those jackasses should’ve gone to prison for what they did.”

“We didn’t want to implicate your brother. He probably killed those men, but he saved us and we owed him more than we could repay. That was when Michelle got clean. She got in a program and fell in love with Grant. It was a perfect little ending to that screwed up story. And I’ll never forgive Michelle for taking me to that godforsaken place.”

Kim wiped at her eyes again. “I’m sorry, I’m not usually like this.”

“You’ve got nothing to apologize for. You were a victim, Kim. Didn’t you ever talk to anyone about this? A therapist, a counselor, your mom?”

She laughed mirthlessly at the last suggestion.

“No, you’re the first person I’ve ever told.” She leaned in close on his shoulder again. “I was serious when I said I want to get comfortable with you. That’s how much I mean it.”

Chapter 28

“Did you ever get shot?” Kim asked on the long drive back to town. “Hey, what’s so funny?”

“Nothing,” Brendan replied, suppressing his laughter. “It’s just that there are always two groups of people,” he said, watching the sun dip down as night came on quick. “Scratch that. There’s really three groups. The first group don’t want to ask me anything about my time in the Marines. That’s people like my mom. They all have their reasons, and most are noble, like not wanting to induce PTSD and crap like that.

“The second group always want to know how many people I’ve killed, and a special segment of that group wants to know how I did it and what it was like. Those are the folks you want to steer clear of.”

“And the third group ask you if you got shot?” Kim asked.

“That’s right. Good job,” Brendan said, genuinely impressed. “I like to think that small group of people care about my wellbeing, and that’s where the question comes from.”

“I’m glad you’re still around.” She took his hand in hers over the center console. Her soft hands felt nice, but not so delicate that he worried about squeezing too hard or anything. “So answer the damn question,” she insisted.

“I didn’t get shot, but I did take a rock chip in my left shoulder. It would be kind of hard to show you the scar right now, since I’m driving and all.”

“You can show me later.”

Brendan had never pretended to be a smooth operator, or to understand the gentler sex, but even he was receiving the signals loud and clear. Kim was pretty, nice, and not stupid, and those were all positives in his book. Unfortunately, the misguided debauchery with her older sister hovered like a dark cloud over the space between them. Was it unfair not to tell Kim about it? Opening that can of worms was dangerous for a number of reasons, chiefly that she’d probably go telling people and Grant would find out. The next time Brendan saw his brother would be from the wrong end of a revolver, and that didn’t really seem worth it.

“You want to stop at Trish’s on the way home?” he asked.

“I really hate that place.”

“Got any better suggestions?” Like her apartment?

“We could go to the Tavern.”

“I haven’t even heard of that place. Is it in Shallow Creek?”

“Yeah, it’s a newer bar not that far from my mom’s house,” she explained. “They try to be all Irish, but I doubt any pubs in Ireland keep three light beers on tap.”

“Those aren’t even beer in this country, if you ask me.”

“What do you like to drink?”

“Shiner, mostly, but I’ll drink most beers in a pinch,” he replied. “What about you? Fancy cocktails?”

“Yeah, sure. Try to find me a fancy cocktail anywhere in our little town,” she said. “I settle for a vodka tonic most of the time.”

“I’m not going to lie, I really hate vodka.”

“Then don’t sip my drinks.” She smiled, and the twilight shadows gave her a dazzling, yet mischievous look.

They arrived in town in the evening, with the sun already long gone. Kim provided concise directions to the Tavern, holding Brendan’s hand the whole way. Driving an automatic transmission definitely had its perks. Shifting manually all the damn time would’ve interrupted their physical bond as soon as they got off the state highway.

Just like Kim had described earlier, the bar owner had gone in for the Irish crap in a big way. The front fascia of the place had “The Tavern” illuminated in gaudy green neon stretching across the length of the building. Brendan had been here before, but it wasn’t a bar back then. He couldn’t remember the name of the old place, but he mentioned it to Kim.

“Yeah, it used to be a family restaurant,” she said. “You know, one that pretended we still live in a dry county.”

“Is that why it didn’t last?”

“No. The food sucked.”

“Fair enough.”

Brendan held the door open and waved Kim through in as regal a manner as he could muster. They hadn’t even made it up to the bar before a random guy stepped in front of them with a bad attitude written all over his face, just above a series of leathery burn scars.

“What are you doing here with this guy?” the stranger demanded of Kim.

Brendan stepped up beside her.

“Watch how you talk to the lady.”

Kim put a hand on Brendan’s arm and shot him an exasperated look. “Don’t worry, it’s just Brice.”

The ex.

“Okay, Brice, how about you move on?” Brendan urged. “I’m sure you’ve got friends here that miss you already.”

“Funny you should say that, Brendan,” Brice said with a smugness ripe for a punch in the face. Brendan immediately tensed up as he realized this punk knew him somehow. “You’ve moved on pretty fast yourself.”

“What is he talking about?” Kim asked, confused.

Brendan had a good idea from the shitty look in the guy’s eyes. Kim had mentioned this tool lived in Michelle’s neighborhood.

“We should go,” Brendan said, taking Kim’s hand.

“No, you should go,” Brice said, obviously loving every minute.

Would Kim forgive him if he pounded her ex unconscious?

“Brice, what’s going on here?” Kim asked again.

“Your new friend here left your sister’s place yesterday morning,” Brice said. “Real early in the morning.”

“So what? They’re old friends.” God bless her for defending him, but Brendan had a nasty premonition about where this was going to end up.

“It’s not weird that an old friend would stay over when her husband’s out of town?” Brice asked.

“That doesn’t mean anything. It’s not like they slept together.”

Kim looked him right in the eye in that moment, and Brendan just couldn’t keep his face as deceptively neutral as it needed to be. How had years of interrogation training not prepared him for such a simple lie?

It was game over.

“Oh my—”

The last word was muffled by Kim snatching her hand from Brendan’s and covering her mouth. Was it too late to smash Brice’s teeth in?

“Are you fucking kidding me, Brendan? After all this shit with you pretending to like me?”

“That was yesterday.” Brendan knew it was lame, but he didn’t have any other legs to stand on.

“Oh, so that makes it okay? No, don’t answer that. We’re done here.”

And there she stood, arms folded tight, chin up, but wavering slightly. He’d really done a bad thing here. She’d liked him and he’d let her down right as she’d dropped her guard.

“I can drive you home—”

“You are nuts if you think I’m getting back in that truck with you. You need to go.”