Read Online Deeper Than Need by Shiloh Walker - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Shiloh Walker
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have to bury her face in the pillow to keep from choking back the screams so she wouldn’t wake up Micah.
“Thank you,” she said, ignoring the erratic cadence of her voice as she forced herself to get the words out. “I know you had to hang around for a while, since you were down there, too. But you didn’t have to stay all day.”
The chains on the swing creaked and she heard him rising. Twisting the doorknob, she opened the door and watched as light spilled out onto the porch. She turned and faced him then as he moved closer. “I couldn’t just leave,” he said, a look on his face that told her he meant every single word.
“Some guys could have done just that.” She stepped over the threshold. Leaning against him had felt entirely too right. It was that odd little click thing, all over again.
He opened his mouth to say something and she lifted a hand. “Don’t,” she said, shaking her head. “I know plenty of guys who would have done just that, stayed just long enough to take care of whatever had to be done with the cops and then they’d disappear. It’s probably just human nature. You didn’t have to hang, but you did. So thank you.”
“If you think that’s human nature, then you know some really lousy humans.” He gave her a tired, sad smile and shook his head. “We can be selfish creatures, I know. But that selfish?”
Trinity suspected selfish didn’t even touch on some of the traits she’d come to expect in people. Shifting her gaze to stare off into the night, she licked her lips. “Look, I just … well. I wanted to say thank you. I did. Now I’m going to get some sleep.”
She ducked inside before she could say anything else. Before she could do anything else. All she really wanted to do was go back outside and lean back against him; maybe even wrap her arms around him and then push up on her toes and see what he’d say if she pressed her lips to his.
What he’d do.
Because she was desperate enough to push for whatever he’d let her take, find comfort in whatever he’d give her.
And so close to breaking, she didn’t know what it would do to her if he eased her back with just a few kind words and another one of those gentle, understanding smiles.
* * *
Small towns talked.
Sometimes it was like the town itself took on its own life and the words just buzzed through the air, danced on the wind and whispered into the ears of every soul in town.
When they had a day like they’d had yesterday?
People talked even more.
That house had been the center of attention before.
More than once, really.
Back in the fifties, a woman had been murdered there. Beaten to death by her drunk of a husband after he came home and found her in bed with another man.
The drunkard’s name had been Terrell Frampton, his wife a sweet, distracted little thing by the name of Nancy.
Nan’s older brother had been a well-to-do lawyer, one Maxwell Shepherd, and that night was the closest he’d ever come to violence, when he got word that his bastard brother-in-law had beaten Nan to death.
Terrell had found Nan in bed with Boyd Scroggins. Boyd had taken off running, leaving Nan behind. If Boyd hadn’t fallen down the embankment into the river, he likely would have ended up a victim of Terrell’s rage as well.
As it was, the river got Boyd and spat him out a few days later and Terrell beat Nan so thoroughly, she died before anybody even bothered to send for help. If Maxwell Shepherd had been home, Max would have killed the son of a bitch.
A few days later, there was a second victim. Terrell killed himself in his jail cell and never did go before a judge. Sometimes Judge Max thought that was the biggest injustice known to man.
Max Shepherd never got to see any justice for his sister’s death.
Yes, she’d cheated on her husband. But he’d been a mean, abusive bastard and back in those days it wasn’t quite as easy to get a divorce for such a thing. Even these days it wasn’t as easy
“Thank you,” she said, ignoring the erratic cadence of her voice as she forced herself to get the words out. “I know you had to hang around for a while, since you were down there, too. But you didn’t have to stay all day.”
The chains on the swing creaked and she heard him rising. Twisting the doorknob, she opened the door and watched as light spilled out onto the porch. She turned and faced him then as he moved closer. “I couldn’t just leave,” he said, a look on his face that told her he meant every single word.
“Some guys could have done just that.” She stepped over the threshold. Leaning against him had felt entirely too right. It was that odd little click thing, all over again.
He opened his mouth to say something and she lifted a hand. “Don’t,” she said, shaking her head. “I know plenty of guys who would have done just that, stayed just long enough to take care of whatever had to be done with the cops and then they’d disappear. It’s probably just human nature. You didn’t have to hang, but you did. So thank you.”
“If you think that’s human nature, then you know some really lousy humans.” He gave her a tired, sad smile and shook his head. “We can be selfish creatures, I know. But that selfish?”
Trinity suspected selfish didn’t even touch on some of the traits she’d come to expect in people. Shifting her gaze to stare off into the night, she licked her lips. “Look, I just … well. I wanted to say thank you. I did. Now I’m going to get some sleep.”
She ducked inside before she could say anything else. Before she could do anything else. All she really wanted to do was go back outside and lean back against him; maybe even wrap her arms around him and then push up on her toes and see what he’d say if she pressed her lips to his.
What he’d do.
Because she was desperate enough to push for whatever he’d let her take, find comfort in whatever he’d give her.
And so close to breaking, she didn’t know what it would do to her if he eased her back with just a few kind words and another one of those gentle, understanding smiles.
* * *
Small towns talked.
Sometimes it was like the town itself took on its own life and the words just buzzed through the air, danced on the wind and whispered into the ears of every soul in town.
When they had a day like they’d had yesterday?
People talked even more.
That house had been the center of attention before.
More than once, really.
Back in the fifties, a woman had been murdered there. Beaten to death by her drunk of a husband after he came home and found her in bed with another man.
The drunkard’s name had been Terrell Frampton, his wife a sweet, distracted little thing by the name of Nancy.
Nan’s older brother had been a well-to-do lawyer, one Maxwell Shepherd, and that night was the closest he’d ever come to violence, when he got word that his bastard brother-in-law had beaten Nan to death.
Terrell had found Nan in bed with Boyd Scroggins. Boyd had taken off running, leaving Nan behind. If Boyd hadn’t fallen down the embankment into the river, he likely would have ended up a victim of Terrell’s rage as well.
As it was, the river got Boyd and spat him out a few days later and Terrell beat Nan so thoroughly, she died before anybody even bothered to send for help. If Maxwell Shepherd had been home, Max would have killed the son of a bitch.
A few days later, there was a second victim. Terrell killed himself in his jail cell and never did go before a judge. Sometimes Judge Max thought that was the biggest injustice known to man.
Max Shepherd never got to see any justice for his sister’s death.
Yes, she’d cheated on her husband. But he’d been a mean, abusive bastard and back in those days it wasn’t quite as easy to get a divorce for such a thing. Even these days it wasn’t as easy
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