This Much is True Read online

  “Nothing was like us.” I hear it in my voice.

  “Come on.” Scout hands me the ball. “I’ll go long.”

  I look at the pigskin in my hands, and anger tightens in my stomach. We were kids with dreams then. We stupidly believed people were good. “No.”

  “Ah, come on. Nobody cares.” He jogs backwards. “Show me what you got, old man.”

  “Old man.” My jaw tightens, and I turn the oval ball in my hands.

  “Don’t leave me hanging,” he taunts.

  I glance up to where he’s jogging in place and pull back, sending the ball in a tight spiral straight into his Velcro grip.

  “Yeah!” He throws his arms up, holding the ball high as he jogs a tight circle before returning to where I’m standing. “The crowd goes wild.”

  “You’re pretty good.” Hope’s voice is closer now, and when I look back at her, the anger subsides.

  Something about her sweetness draws me. She keeps a distance between us, but she’s relaxing again.

  “The Dunne brothers…” Scout holds up his hand for a high five before placing the ball in mine again. “Getting it done.”

  He’s chanting, but I shake my head. “Not doing it again.”

  Hope watches him, a smile teasing at her soft lips. “Was that a thing?”

  Scout grins, jogging backwards again. “JR was team captain, starting quarterback… Mr. Palmetto State.”

  I feel her studying me, but I don’t look. “That was a long time ago.”

  “It wasn’t that long.” My little brother won’t stop. “I can catch anything he throws. Even the stinkers.”

  “I don’t throw stinkers.”

  “He threw some stinkers.” He’s baiting me, and like an idiot, it’s working. “I could read his mind. I knew where he was aiming… I dodged every defensive lineman.”

  Remembering him slipping past those guys actually makes me grin. “He was like a fucking bar of soap.” Jackass.

  “I bet you were fun to watch.” Hope is closer, like a magnetic field beside me. “I never had a sibling. I imagine it must be the best thing to have someone you can always depend on, no matter what.”

  “Don’t build it up too much,” Scout yells. “He’s still a pain in the ass most of the time.”

  I look up at the fading sunset. “As fun as this is, we’re on the clock. Let’s go.”

  “Come on! One last throw.” My brother waves his hands.

  I pull back and fire off an intentional stinker—outside and close to the ground. He pivots into action, springing off the lawn and diving, scooping it up before it touches grass. Just like always.

  “He caught it!” Hope squeals beside me, jumping up and down and clapping.

  She laughs, grasping my arm, and I shake my head, unable to hold back a smile.

  “I knew you were going to do that.” Scout’s breathless as he jogs back to where we’re standing. “Asshole.”

  “That was a great catch.” Hope claps his high five.

  “Let’s go.” I circle around to the driver’s side. “I’ll take over for a while, see how close I can get us to El Paso.”

  “I can drive.” Hope skips behind me. “I’ll use the cruise control. We won’t get stopped. I haven’t seen a cop the whole way.”

  “No.” My frown is firmly in place. “I’m not taking a chance on this trip. Scout, get in the back and sleep. I’ll want you taking over when I’m done.”

  “Roger that.” He hops in the backseat, and I slide behind the wheel, waiting as Hope climbs in the passenger’s side.

  Having her up front makes her harder to ignore, but I turn on the radio and roll down my window. We don’t have to talk.

  We’re not five miles down the road when my brother sits up. “Tell me, Hope Eternal, you got a fella back in San Francisco?”

  I’d tell him to shut up and sleep, but I want to know the answer to this question myself.

  “While we’re on the subject…” She teases, glancing at me briefly. She’s still doing it, and it’s like water dripping, wearing me down, making me want to meet her eyes, touch her.

  “I told you my story,” Scout counters, and she shrugs.

  “I was kind of dating this guy in February, but we lost touch after everything happened.”

  “Isn’t that a bitch? Same thing happened to me.”

  Her lips part, and she looks over her shoulder. “You said somebody’s waiting back home!”

  News to me. I glance at him in the rearview mirror, but he doesn’t meet my eyes. “I said I hoped. I don’t know if she’s waiting.”

  “When’s the last time you talked to her?”

  His voice drops, so I almost can’t hear it. “When I left Fireside.”

  I’m trying to figure out who he means, and Hope turns to face him. “You haven’t even tried to stay in touch?”

  “I felt like I’d be leading her on. Then things got all fucked up, and I wasn’t sure she even wanted to hear from me.”

  Hope’s quiet a minute. She looks forward as if she’s thinking. “Are you friends with her on Facebook?”

  “No.”

  “Instagram?”

  “I kind of got off all social media three years ago.”

  “That can’t be great for your acting career. Everybody’s on social media now.”

  “It’s a long story.” Shame suffuses his tone. “I’m sort of easing back into it…”

  I know the story, and I wonder if he’s going to share his shining achievement with her. The “setback” he apparently spent three years trying to overcome.

  When he doesn’t say more, I decide to throw him a lifeline. “I can’t drive the whole way. You’ll have to take over in a few hours.”

  “Right.” He drops down on the backseat, pulling my cap over his face.

  Hope’s full lips press together, and she turns to face front again. We ride for a few songs without talking, then she peeks over at me.

  “So you were the star quarterback in high school?” She says it with a little smile.

  My hands tighten on the wheel. “That was a long time ago.”

  “Did you play in college?”

  “Some.”

  She’s quiet again. The Eagles are still playing in the background, “Life in the Fast Lane,” and I consider changing the channel, but their songs are like cold beer on a hot day. They just go down easy.

  “Does it make you angry to talk about it?”

  It’s a fair question. My mind trips back to those days, even before when we were kids. Dad pushing us to play the game; Mom teasing it kept us from breaking everything in the house.

  I played because I was bored, but Scout would sleep with a fucking football for a pillow. It always meant more to him than it did to me. Our dad was determined we would both be stars, but we only played together.

  “It doesn’t make me angry.” It makes me itchy, like a wool sweater on a humid day.

  “But you don’t like it… Why?” Her voice is gentle, and I think about my answer.

  “I guess it was all that came with it. My dad constantly pushing us. People who acted like they cared, but they just used us to get what they wanted. Or to get attention.”

  She puts her elbow on top of the seat, propping her head on her hand and smiling. It stirs the restlessness in my chest.

  “What?”

  “That’s the most you’ve said to me this whole trip.”

  “Wasted words.”

  “So you let a bunch of selfish assholes spoil something you love?”

  “I didn’t love it. I did it because I was good at it, and I didn’t have a choice. Dad wouldn’t let us stop. Scout loved it.”

  She glances in the backseat briefly then seems to think. “Was the cheerleader one of the selfish people?”

  “I don’t want to talk about her.” I wasted a lot of time being pissed at my ex-wife. Now I just want her to give me my son and go the fuck away. If that’s even possible.

  “I get that.” She nods, shif
ting in her seat again to face front. “I was in love with this guy once. He wasn’t who I thought he was.”

  “People usually aren’t.”

  Her head tilts to the side, and she gives me that little half-smile. “You don’t mean that, do you?”

  I look out my window again. “Yeah, I’m afraid I do.”

  “Are you who you seem to be?”

  “Depends.” This time I do look at her, straight on. “Who do I seem to be?”

  Her blue eyes narrow, and she studies me until I start to feel uneasy. “You seem like a straight shooter. You clearly love your brother… I don’t know about the prison part, but besides that, you seem honest. Like a good guy.”

  My eyes are on the road, and her words are like invisible fingers, tugging on the fist in my chest. It’s like she’s trying to get it to open, to release the rage. I glance at her again, and she’s still watching me, the wind from the cracked window pushing her light blonde hair around her cheeks. Hope Eternal…

  “I won’t ever lie to you.”

  That sweet smile relaxes her face, and my throat tightens. I push against the way she makes me feel. She makes me want to pull the car over and wrap her in my arms, bury my face in her hair, and just breathe.

  I am so fucking tired.

  My voice is rough as I flip on the turn signal. “Time to switch drivers.”

  Hope

  Scout has one arm on the window and one hand on the steering wheel. The wind pushes his blond hair around his face, and we’re flying down I-10, crossing southern Texas. The muscle in his square jaw moves like his brother’s when he’s thinking, but he seems so much younger.

  “An out of work actor, a failed restaurateur, and an ex-con walk into a bar—”

  My nose scrunches. “I don’t like being a failed restauranteur. I prefer suspended… or temporarily detained…”

  “Doesn’t flow.”

  “Frustrated restaurateur…” I suggest.

  “Maybe.”

  “You’re out of work. Why do I have to be a failure?”

  “All actors are out of work.”

  JR growls from the backseat. “Would you two shut up so I can sleep? We’re not going to a bar.”

  We fall silent as Mr. Dark Cloud turns over on the seat, and I can’t resist. “Snarls the grumpy ex-con…”

  Scout fake-coughs, “Asshole,” and I glance back, catching the ghost of a grin on JR’s lips.

  It makes me smile. He tries to act so angry all the time, but he likes us. He’s talking to me now, and I want more. I want every word he has to say.

  I won’t ever lie to you…

  The simple statement sent a thrill through my stomach. I believe him.

  “Who was the first guy you ever had sex with?” Scout glances at me, and my eyebrows shoot up.

  “You are so nosy!”

  “It’s a boring drive. We might as well make it interesting. Tell me your story, and I’ll tell you mine.”

  Mischief is in his eyes, and I chew my lip. Scout is so fun, and I think I like him more knowing we’re just friends.

  I steal a glance at the backseat, and it seems JR is sleeping…

  “Okay.” I hold the sides of my dress and rest my feet on the dash. It’s how I always rode with Dad, and Scout doesn’t seem to care. “Wade Peterson.”

  “Wade…” Scout says the word like he’s testing it out. “That’s a name you don’t hear much.”

  “He was one of the commune kids. We lost touch after my mom left, but we met up again when we were seniors. We were at a Young Life meeting, and every time they’d sing ‘Wade in the Water,’ my best friend Yars would whisper ‘Where?’”

  The memory makes me grin—my bestie is so crazy.

  “So he was cute?”

  “He had that California beach thing going, blue eyes, bleached hair, perpetual tan.”

  “Wait… Isn’t Young Life a church thing?” Scout’s cheek-dimple appears. “Let me guess… He wanted it, and you didn’t.”

  “Pfft… Hardly.”

  That makes him laugh. “Teenage Hope was a bad girl.”

  “That’s what he said.” I look out the window feeling embarrassed all over again. “I thought… I think sex is a natural thing. It’s fun.”

  “I couldn’t agree more.”

  “Wade said sex for fun was indulging the flesh.” I can still see his eyes, stern and judgmental. God, it’s been six years, and I still feel the cringe of shame climbing my shoulders.

  “What the fuck?” Scout’s brow lowers, and he looks like his brother—pissed and ready to punch somebody. I kind of like this protective vibe he’s giving me. It makes me feel safe telling him the truth.

  “He said I had a problem. I shouldn’t want it so much. He said sex was for procreation.”

  “So he was gay.” Scout relaxes like he’s solved a riddle.

  “He was… not.” Tilting my head to the side, I give it some more thought. “I never thought he was. He was smart and he liked discussing the Bible—”

  “Gay.” Scout nods like he’s an expert. He holds up a hand. “Nothing wrong with that, but he shouldn’t have led you on.”

  A few quiet moments pass, and I think about what he’s saying. I think about the things I’d wanted and how dirty Wade made me feel. I tucked those desires away, believing I had a problem. Now I wonder…

  Lowering my voice, I lean closer. “I wanted him to say dirty things to me and be rough. Hold me down and take me. You know?”

  Scout shifts in his seat. “Unexpected, but okay.”

  My cheeks flush, and I want to die. “Is that bad? Do you think I need therapy?”

  “Shit no.” He laughs, running his hand over his mouth and giving me another quick glance. “It’s just… Look at you. Then you go and say something like that.”

  “Wade said it was perverted. He said I must have some deep-seated problem.”

  “I think your boy Wade had the problem.” He gives my shoulder a pat. “I think your shit is hot. I think it’s going to make some guy really happy.”

  Crossing my arms, I flop back on the seat. “Well, I dumped him. He shaved his beard, and I realized he was just a little boy pretending to be a man.”

  “Good call. Never let some small-minded prick kill your mojo.”

  “Where are we?” JR’s grumpy voice from the backseat makes me jump and put my feet down.

  “We’re outside El Paso… Socorro.”

  JR rubs a hand over his face. “I need a shower.”

  “Me too,” Scout says. “I’m getting ripe.”

  My nose scrunches, but the truth is, I could use one too. I’ve been riding post-hangover for almost 24 hours.

  Scout cuts the speed and leans forward to read the signs. He tosses his phone at me. “See what you can find.”

  Scooping it up, I tap on the icon for accommodations. “This Deluxe Inn says forty-five dollars a night. Exit… Oh, it’s the next exit!”

  He immediately puts on the blinker and drives us off the interstate. We take a right and go less than a quarter mile to where a wide, asphalt entrance leads up to a line of ancient cinder-block units painted white.

  A big blue sign reading “Truck Parking” greets us at the entrance, and it looks like something out of a low-budget slasher film.

  JR seems to anticipate all our reactions. “I’ll get one room. If we stay together, we’ll be fine. We won’t be here long.”

  I glance out the window and decide beggars can’t be choosers, and at least JR is somewhat intimidating. He definitely looks like he can kick some ass if he has to.

  Twenty minutes later, I’m in a narrow shower stall with my eyes closed as warm water flows over my face and down my body like rainbows from heaven. I do my best to suppress a groan, but holy crap. After 24 hours of sticky brine from a beach walk followed by sick followed by sweaty heat, this might be the best shower of my life.

  Scout went first, because he’d been driving the longest, and he insisted he smelled like ass… Ma
ssive eye roll. JR said he didn’t mind going last, and for his sake, I force myself to cut it short.

  Stepping out, I grab a threadbare towel and wrap it around me. Collecting my hand-washed panties, I head into the single-room to dress behind a makeshift curtain he hung around the bed.

  “I tried to save you some hot water.”

  “Thanks.” His response is cordial, but he doesn’t linger.

  The door closes fast, and the sound of water running meets my ears. Scout is sprawled out on the couch in jeans and a t-shirt. One arm is over his eyes, and he’s snoring like a lumberjack.

  Shaking my head, I look down at my damp underwear. I can’t wear them wet. Hanging them on the side of the nightstand, I hope they’ll dry somewhat before it’s time to go.

  I do my best to dry off with the towel, but it’s like the material just pushes the water around on my skin. I’m still damp when I go to where I tossed my yellow dress on the bed.

  Standing by the desk with my back to a sleeping Scout, I wave my arms trying to air dry a bit more before I put on my dress. JR’s shirt hangs from the back of the chair, and I hesitate, glancing toward the bathroom. The sound of water is still going strong, and Scout lets out another snore from behind me.

  I trace my fingers along the thick, light-blue fabric. Placing the useless towel on the desk, I lift his shirt and slip my arms in the sleeves, pulling it over my naked body and studying myself in the mirror.

  It’s too big for me. It stops at my upper thighs, and my small breasts are just covered by the rough fabric. My nipples tighten at the abrasion, and I lower my chin to inhale deeply.

  I’m surrounded by his scent, masculine with hints of soap and citrusy deodorant. Closing my eyes, I imagine his large hands sliding up my thighs, squeezing my ass, spanning my waist. I imagine his lips at my ear, that rough voice telling me what he wants to do to me. My eyes squeeze and I picture two thick fingers slipping between my legs, touching my clit.

  I imagine his beard scuffing my sensitive neck, moving around to my back, following the line of my shoulders. I imagine threading my fingers in his hair and kissing him hard…

  My stomach is fizzy, my core hot and slippery, and I don’t realize the water has stopped until the bathroom door jerks open. “Are there any more towels?”