Read Online Mama Rides Shotgun by Deborah Sharp - Free Book Online

fishy going on between Trey and his father’s wife, although I still wasn’t sure what.
    “My screw-ups killed my daddy,’’ Trey said, “as sure as if I took a gun and shot him.’’
    Sal stopped short, which meant we did, too, since he was the engine pulling all of us away from the dinner camp. Like a kid’s game of whip, we jerked around, too, from the brute force of Sal’s action.
    “You listen to me, son.’’ Sal brought his big head close to Trey’s. “I’ve seen a lot of people over the years do a lot of bad things. Stabbings and beatings. Fatal shootings, where one person aims a weapon to take another’s life. That’s murder. You being a bad son, maybe even a disappointing son? It doesn’t come close to that level of evil.’’
    Sal paused, letting his words sink in. Finally, he moved his huge hand from Trey’s arm to his shoulder. He gave it a fatherly squeeze.
    “It’s not too late, you know. You can step up and be a man. It’s what your dad would have wanted. Maybe, somehow, he’ll know you’ve straightened up and done right.’’
    Trey dropped his head to his chest, and brushed quickly at his eyes. He coughed. When he raised his face, my heart ached at the grief I saw written there. I had the strangest urge to wrap my arms around him and comfort him with a kiss.
    Trey stared at me with his daddy’s blue eyes, and I wondered if he could read my thoughts. It surprised me to realize I wouldn’t mind if he did.
    Our eyes locked. A flash of desire arced between us. It must have spilled out into the cool air, because Sal dropped his hand from Trey’s shoulder and took a step back. His gaze shifted, first to Trey and then to me.
    “Guess I’ll get back to the fire,’’ he mumbled as he backed away from us. “See if Rosie needs anything.’’
    I lifted my hand in a wave, not wanting to pull my eyes from Trey’s. “Bye, Sal,’’ I said.
    “Bye,’’ Trey echoed, never breaking my gaze. “And, Sal? Thanks.’’
    The light in our clearing dimmed as Sal walked away, carrying the lantern I’d brought. Trey pulled a small flashlight from his pocket; flicked it on and off so I could see he had it. Neither of us said a word. Cattle lowed in a distant pasture. Crickets chirped. Clouds floated across a dinner plate moon.
    “Do you . . .’’
    “Would you . . .’’
    Both of us spoke at the same time.
    “You first,’’ I said.
    “I was just going to ask if you wanted to sit over there on that log for a while. I could really use a friend.’’
    I wasn’t about to say I wanted to be more than that. I wasn’t even sure myself where that spark of desire for him had come from. Maybe it was a combination: My memories of him as Himmarshee High’s golden boy. The sorrow I felt that he’d lost his daddy. The mess I’d made of my short-lived affair with Carlos Martinez.
    I let Trey Bramble lead me to that fallen log.
    Once we were settled side-by-side, our thighs almost touching, he offered a cigarette from his pack. I shook my head no.
    “I’m down to a half-pack a day,’’ he said, careful to blow the smoke away from me. “I’ve been trying to quit. But this sure isn’t the time.’’
    He wet his fingers to extinguish the match, then tucked it into the top pocket of his shirt. I liked that he was mindful about the threat of wildfires during Florida’s winter dry season.
    “I haven’t had the chance to tell you, Trey. I’m sure sorry about your loss. My own daddy died when my sisters and I were little. It’s an awful thing to bear.’’
    “I still can’t believe he’s gone, Mace. Daddy was bigger than life.’’
    He took two last drags, stubbing out the cigarette under his boot. As with the match, he put the crushed butt into his pocket.
    “I just wish things had been right between us,’’ Trey continued. “I’ll never forgive myself for being such a bastard. I was a major disappointment.’’
    My mind flashed back to the tight, angry set to Lawton’s mouth