Read Lifers for Free Online Page B

We were too far from the road to even hear another car—just a whole lot of silence. It was unnerving.
    I dreamed about Mikey again. He was laughing at me this time, and pointing to something in the road, just seconds before we crashed. I saw it all happen in slow motion—the way his neck snapped, the way the glass fanned out in a shower of shards as his body flew through the windshield, the look of surprise fixed in his dead eyes.
    I jerked awake, shaking and sweating. Three AM again. I knew I wouldn’t be able to get back to sleep, so I headed to the garage to work out—again.
    Four hours later, I stumbled out of the house and made my way to the Rectory.
    I was just working up a good sweat from hacking the brambles and heaping them into a pile when I heard her voice.
    “Hey, cowboy!”
    I turned around and saw the preacher’s pretty daughter, Torrey, sitting on the porch, just like yesterday, holding up a mug of coffee for me.
    Her smile disappeared as I got nearer, and I guessed her momma’s talk had had an effect.
    “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” she asked, angrily.
    I froze in my tracks. What was she talking about? I looked behind me at the wilderness that I’d been hacking into and turned back to her. Her jaws were clamped together, turning her plump lips into a thin, white line. What sort of game was she playing? Was she going to make out like I’d attacked her or something? The thought caused bile to rise in my throat, and I had trouble swallowing it down.
    “Ma’am, I…”
    “What have you done to your arms?” she snapped, pointing at the numerous cuts and scratches that were decorating my skin where the tattoos ended.
    “Are you freakin’ crazy?” she went on, her voice getting louder by the second. “Why aren’t you wearing gloves?”
    “I don’t have any.”
    She stared at me like I wasn’t speaking English.
    “Come here, you idiot!”
    She grabbed my wrist and dragged me into the house.
    I’d never been in the Reverend’s kitchen before. It was pretty basic, not all fancy like I’d seen on TV. I guess she didn’t make much money in a one-horse Texas town. Or maybe she just didn’t care about cooking. I somehow thought a Boston lady would have something fancier. I knew the Rectory belonged to the church, but I guess I thought she’d have it fixed up a little more.
    Torrey pushed me in front of the kitchen sink and filled it with warm water. She was mumbling and cursing to herself the whole time. Even while I was wondering what she was doing, I couldn’t help thinking she was so damn cute.
    Then she started washing my arms, using her hands to cup water and pour it down over the cuts. It stung plenty, but that was nothing compared to the spark I felt every time she touched me. I realized with horror that I’d gotten an instant boner.
    “I can manage,” I said roughly, taking over cleaning my cuts.
    “Sure, big guy,” she said, snidely. “You managed just fine in the yard, didn’t you, cutting those brambles down to size with your bare hands. Oh yeah, you showed them who’s boss. What’s a little blood as long as you can look like a big strong man? God! Men can be such assholes!”
    Boy, this woman was a firecracker. Just the kind I would have gone for once. Not now, of course. She was still standing behind me, and I could feel her eyes burning twin holes into the back of my neck.
    “I’m going to get some bandages and Bactine. Don’t move!” she ordered.
    She was gone for a few minutes and I started panicking, wondering how it would look if the Rev came back to find me standing in her kitchen, looking all kinds of creepy.
    I ignored what Torrey had told me and had one foot out of the door when she came back.
    “I told you not to move!” she said, crossly. “Jeez, have you got attention deficit disorder?”
    I shook my head slowly like a dumb dog.
    “Sit!” she ordered, pointing at a wooden chair.
    I sat.
    She smoothed dollops of hospital-smelling cream