Locked in Silence_Pelican Bay [Book 1] Page 3

  Problem was, there’d be nothing left to fix.

  You could call Trey.

  Bile curled in my belly as the thought permeated my brain. I was desperate, but not that desperate. The vindictive son of a bitch had ruined my career. No fucking way was I going crawling back to him, though I knew that was exactly what he wanted.

  I tried to think of even one friend I could lean on for help or even just to vent my frustrations to, but there was no one. I’d figured out too late that my friends had been Trey’s friends first.

  I sighed as I flipped on the car’s headlights. The job hunt would resume tomorrow. I’d find something and I’d get my parents back on their feet and then I’d get the hell out of Dodge.

  That was my last thought before the car suddenly shuddered and the steering wheel vibrated under my hands. I looked down at the dash just in time to see the gauges and lights go dark as the engine cut out, and I quickly pulled the wheel to the right so the car wouldn’t stop right there in the middle of the road. Once on the shoulder, I tried getting the car started several times, but it wouldn’t even turn over. I automatically reached for my phone, but sometime in the last thirty minutes the battery had finally given up and died completely.

  I was stuck.

  In the middle of nowhere.

  “Fuck,” I muttered.

  I sat in silence for a good ten minutes as I contemplated what to do. The temperature in the car began to drop pretty quickly as the heat faded. It wasn’t brutally cold yet outside, but as the sun fell from the sky, the temperatures had started to dip into the upper twenties. I got out of the car and looked around but couldn’t see any lights anywhere, which meant there likely weren’t any homes nearby. The road I was on connected Pelican Bay to its neighboring town of Greenville, but in between was just a whole bunch of nothing. I debated what to do and figured my safest bet was to stay with the car. I checked the back seat for any kind of blanket, but there was nothing. Popping the trunk from inside the car, I got out and went to check it too. There wasn’t enough light to see by, so I had to feel around with my hand. I wanted to laugh at the fact that there was absolutely nothing in the trunk. Not even a stray wrapper or plastic grocery bag.

  “Perfect,” I whispered as I slammed the trunk closed.

  I’d just started to head toward the front of the car when headlights lit up the road in front of me. In California, the sight would have had me nervous, but in Minnesota, there was only one thing those headlights could mean.

  Rescue.

  I put out my hand in a slight wave as I waited for the car to slow down, but to my surprise – and annoyance – it flew past, not slowing down in the least. All I could make out of the vehicle was that it was a large pickup truck.

  “Ass,” I breathed as I shook my head. So much for not having to sleep in the damn car tonight.

  I was reaching for the door handle when headlights illuminated me again, this time from behind. I thanked whatever deity had decided to give me a break tonight, when I realized it was the very same truck that had sped past me before. I watched as it pulled in front of my car. I waited nervously as a tall figure climbed out of the driver’s seat and walked slowly toward me.

  It was too dark to make out the man’s face as he came to a stop a few feet away. He didn’t say anything, which just had me more on edge.

  “It just stopped,” I blurted out to him. Please don’t kill me, I silently added. Especially not in Pelican Bay, or they’ll fucking bury me here for sure.

  The man jerked his arm toward the hood of the car, but still didn’t say anything. When he did it again, I quickly surmised he wanted me to pop the hood. I opened the door and pulled the lever. The man was blocked from view as he lifted the hood. I saw a flash of light and felt a moment of excitement. Light meant the car had electricity, which meant maybe it would start. But as I walked around the front of the car, I realized the man was using the flashlight from his phone to examine the engine.

  His gloved hands worked quickly as he fiddled with some wires and then he was motioning to me. He held the light over his hand so I could see him doing a twisting motion and I realized he wanted me to start it.

  As I hurried back to the car, I wondered if maybe he was a foreigner and didn’t speak English. I turned the key in the ignition, but nothing happened. The man didn’t say anything and I wasn’t sure what to do, so I stayed where I was. I saw his hand come over the hood so he could tap on it, and I took that to mean that I should try again.

  Still nothing.

  The hood slammed closed and I got out of the car. The man didn’t move and he didn’t speak as I approached him.

  “Do you know what’s wrong with it?” I finally asked, since I wasn’t completely sure he didn’t speak English.

  There was enough light from the flashlight on the phone to see him nod his head. But he didn’t say anything.

  Okay, so he could understand English but not speak it? I guess that wasn’t unheard of.

  The man swept his arm toward the pickup truck. I hesitated as I glanced at it. Realistically, he didn’t need to get me into the truck if he wanted to rob me or off me – he could do that right here, right now. So why was I hesitating?

  “I should wait here,” I said. “I’m sure a police officer will be by soon,” I added, hoping he’d get the hint.

  The man shook his head and pointed to the truck again.

  “Thank you, but I’m okay,” I said. I knew I was being unreasonable, but every PSA I’d seen as a kid about not getting into a stranger’s car came back to haunt me.

  So much for my Minnesota roots – I’d clearly become a suspicious Californian without even realizing it.

  The man was getting agitated as he tried two more times to get me to go to the pickup truck. When I refused for the second time, he seemed to stiffen and then he threw up his hands dismissively. I expected that to be the end of it, but I was caught off guard when he suddenly turned on his heel and strode toward me. I backed up until my body hit the hood of the car. I told myself I needed to fight or at least run, but I was frozen in place.

  But he didn’t try to grab me.

  Not even close.

  No, he merely shrugged off his jacket and handed it to me. I stood there in disbelief, the man’s jacket in hand as he made a twisting motion with his finger.

  He was giving me his jacket?

  I was so surprised that I didn’t move quickly enough to suit him, and he grabbed the jacket and shook it out and then wrapped it around me before I could even react. He was stepping back before I even realized what had happened.

  Then he was walking back to his truck.

  The heat from his jacket washed over me as the heavy material weighed down my shoulders. I caught a whiff of some kind of aftershave or cologne along with a muskier scent that I couldn’t quite pinpoint. Whatever it was, the combination of smells wasn’t at all unpleasant.

  I expected the man to get in his truck and drive away, but instead, he paused at the driver’s side door, then looked at me. I couldn’t see his face, of course, but I felt that look in my bones, and a shiver of awareness ran up my spine. I felt trapped there in his stare, which was pure insanity because I still hadn’t seen his face or heard his voice.

  What the hell was wrong with me?

  I couldn’t say how long we hung there for, but when he began walking toward me again, I wasn’t afraid.

  Yeah, complete and utter insanity.

  He stopped a couple of feet from me and then dug out his phone. I watched in surprise as he began punching something into it, but instead of putting the phone to his ear like he was going to make a call, he handed it to me.

  I took it and read the screen.

  I had to read the note he’d typed out twice before I understood what I was seeing.

  It’s me, Dallas.

  I looked up in surprise and watched as he grabbed the phone, turned the flashlight on and then held the light up so I could see his face. “Dallas,” I said in disbelief.


  Jesus Christ, my savior was Dallas fucking Kent? Why the hell hadn’t he just said so and saved us both all the drama? I was about to ask him that very question when he suddenly raised his hand and reached for the fabric wrapped around his throat. I couldn’t stifle my gasp as the material fell away to reveal a jumbled mass of scars all over his throat. Realization and horror dawned at the same exact time.

  He hadn’t spoken to me because he couldn’t.

  Dallas Kent, Pelican Bay’s golden boy and my secret high school crush, was mute.

  Chapter Two

  Dallas

  I resisted the urge to check the bandana around my neck and put the truck in gear, not sparing my unwelcome guest a glance.

  Nolan Grainger.

  It just figured he’d be the one I’d run into tonight. I mean, I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about him since I’d seen him a mere week ago, so why wouldn’t Fate decide to throw him into the mix tonight of all nights?

  God, I fucking hated Fate. She was an ugly, cruel bitch that had been toying with me for years.

  The cab was completely dark except for the lights coming from the dashboard, so it wasn’t enough for Nolan to see me, but I still saw him glancing my way every few seconds. I gave into the urge and reached up to make sure the bandana was still in place just in case there was enough light from the dashboard, and then promptly cursed myself for the move.

  What was I trying to hide? He’d already seen my fucking neck.

  Since I couldn’t tell him to knock it the fuck off, I shot him a dark look and hoped he’d get the message.

  He did.

  But for less than two minutes, and then he was doing it again.

  “Um, thank you,” he stuttered. “For helping me, I mean.”

  Silence, and then, “I really wasn’t looking forward to spending the night out here.”

  I could practically hear the agitation rolling off him in waves. He was doing what most people did around me…though blessedly, there weren’t that many people I had to deal with anymore.

  “I don’t know what happened. The car was fine earlier.”

  I kept my eyes on the road as he rattled on about how he’d filled the car with gas and that it hadn’t been acting weird and on and on like that. I tried shooting him another look in the hopes he’d get the message that just because I couldn’t speak, didn’t mean he had to talk twice as much, but he was looking straight ahead.

  I returned my eyes to the road. Luckily it was only a thirty-minute drive to Pelican Bay, and I was sure he’d run out of things to say in the next few minutes when he realized I wasn’t going to answer him.

  It was something else people did. Since it took their minds a while to catch up to the fact that I really couldn’t speak, they habitually said things to me that required some kind of response. Then they’d catch themselves and fall silent or apologize, wait a minute or two, and then the pattern would repeat itself.

  Unless they were from Pelican Bay.

  Then it was a whole different game.

  People from Pelican Bay didn’t speak to me.

  At all.

  They spoke about me because they seemed to think I’d lost my hearing in addition to my voice, but they never spoke directly to me unless it was absolutely necessary.

  Which it rarely was, since I almost never went to Pelican Bay anymore and the people almost never came to me.

  The exception was when one of them was brave enough to venture out to the center with an injured bird or orphaned nest of baby rabbits that needed help. That didn’t happen often since most people went to Doc Cleary and he brought me my new charges.

  Fortunately, Doc Cleary wasn’t a talker, even when he was interacting with someone who could respond to him. So when he showed up at the center, he rattled off what kind of animal he’d brought me, what he’d treated it with if it was an ailment he could handle, and then he left.

  It was an ideal relationship.

  On cue, Nolan said, “I didn’t take you away from any plans tonight, did I?”

  He realized his mistake pretty quickly, and even though I couldn’t see him, I had a feeling his pale skin had pinkened with color. I cursed myself for the fact that I couldn’t see that.

  “Sorry,” he mumbled. “I just…I hope this didn’t mess up your night,” he murmured awkwardly.

  It had most certainly messed up my night, but even if I’d been able to tell him so, I wouldn’t have. It’s not like I wanted to tell the man I’d been on my way for an anonymous hookup with a guy three towns over who I’d met on Grindr.

  Well, “met” wasn’t the right term. I’d seen his post about his open-door policy tonight and had decided to take advantage, since I normally had to drive to a larger city to find a random guy to fuck.

  One who didn’t give a shit if I didn’t talk dirty to him or engage in any kind of foreplay.

  And while the idea of being one guy among many to fuck some random stranger who got off on being used like he was nothing more than a human receptacle for the basest of bodily needs left me feeling cold inside, it wasn’t like I had a ton of options.

  Beggars couldn’t be choosers, after all.

  As repulsive as it was, guys like that were only interested in my dick and didn’t care about my voice – or lack thereof – or my scarred body.

  So, even if it was something I’d never dreamed of doing when I’d been younger, it was a disgustingly perfect fit.

  But I couldn’t tell Nolan Grainger that.

  I couldn’t tell him anything.

  Silence filled the cabin for several minutes and I was sure Nolan had finally figured out that talking to me wasn’t necessary, or welcome, when he said, “How’s the baby raccoon?”

  I shook my head in irritation.

  “It didn’t make it?” Nolan said softly, his voice thick with some unnamed emotion.

  I looked at him and ground my jaw. He’d clearly taken my response to how he’d asked the question as affirmation that the baby hadn’t made it. I tapped my fingers on the steering wheel for a minute and then reached down to turn the dial on the interior lights until the cabin lit up.

  I tried to figure out how to clear up the confusion without having to pull over and type it out on my phone when I glanced at Nolan. My breath caught as I saw him discreetly wipe at his eyes. His eyes shifted briefly to me and he laughed, but there was no humor in it.

  “Sorry,” he said. “I know it’s stupid,” he added. “I just…I needed a win, I guess.”

  He turned his face away from me to stare out the window. I turned my attention back to the road.

  I didn’t care.

  What difference did it make if I cleared it up for him? It was more trouble than it was worth.

  I was about to turn off the interior lights when I shot him one more look.

  His elbow was resting against the door and he appeared to be toying with his mouth in some kind of self-soothing move. Guilt went through me and I left the lights on. I reached across the seat and brushed his hand with mine.

  And regretted it almost instantly.

  Electricity, raw and powerful, surged up my arm and shot straight to my dick.

  Fuck.

  And it wasn’t even the first time it had happened.

  Nope, first time had been when I’d taken the baby raccoon from him a week ago. I’d passed the sensation off as a fluke, but sure as shit, it was very, very real.

  Nolan let out a little breathy sound, but quickly masked it as he turned to look at me.

  I struggled to ignore the tightness in my pants and focused on how to tell him what I wanted to say. I finally settled for holding my arm against my chest like I was cradling a human baby.

  “The baby raccoon?” Nolan asked.

  I nodded and then held my fingers together in the universal “OK” symbol.

  “It’s okay?” he asked, his mouth tugging into a soft smile.

  I nodded.

  “It’s really okay?” he repeated, though it d
idn’t seem like he was expecting an answer. I gave it to him anyway and nodded, just because I liked seeing his distress fade away and his expression light up with pure joy.

  He sat there for a moment and stared out the windshield before he turned to me and said, “Thank you.”

  I wasn’t sure what he was thanking me for exactly, but I nodded anyway and tried to ignore the pleasurable sensation that flooded my belly.

  A sensation that wasn’t about the current hard-on I was sporting.

  For Nolan Grainger.

  Cute, spindly little Nolan Grainger who’d always had his nose buried in a book at school. Quiet, weird, too-pretty Nolan Grainger who’d been the butt of cruel taunts, practical jokes, and ugly locker room talk that I’d never participated in, but that I’d never put a stop to, either.

  Because I’d been too much of a coward to risk anyone realizing I had one pretty big thing in common with “Nerdy Nolan” and “Grungy Grainger.”

  Shame washed over me and I quickly shut off the interior lights, pitching the cab once again into darkness.

  Fortunately for me, Nolan seemed to figure out what a waste a one-sided conversation was, so he fell silent. I couldn’t help but keep glancing at him every few minutes as I tried to catalogue all the differences between present-day Nolan and the shy, awkward Nolan of ten years ago.

  Unlike Nolan, I hadn’t been born in Pelican Bay, so my memories of him started at the awkward age of sixteen when I’d entered Pelican Bay High School as a junior. The majority of the small class of students had all known each other their whole lives, so I’d been the dreaded new kid on the block. But I’d been accepted pretty quickly into the fold for reasons I couldn’t say I was exactly proud of.

  First off, I’d come in as a star athlete, something that, for whatever reason, had been seen as a high-value characteristic. Second, I’d known how to charm everyone…and I mean everyone. Students, teachers, hell, even the principal had liked me. Which meant I’d won all sorts of accolades that had made the jaunt through high school that much easier – student council president, prom king, homecoming king, captain of the football team, debate team, baseball team…the list went on and on. On top of the charm and the natural athletic talent, I’d also been graced with good looks, something I’d had little to no control over but had been valued for just the same.