Seeing is Believing (Cuttersville #3)(35)
Author: Erin McCarthy

She laughed. “That’s presumptuous, you know.”

“You’re the one who dropped your robe,” he teased, reaching out and snagging her hand, because, well, it was there, and he wanted to hold it.

God, he acted like a sixteen-year-old around her. Silly and greedy and intent on showing off. But he had to say, he was definitely enjoying himself.

“I don’t think you minded at the time.”

“I most definitely did not mind. But it would lead me to believe that you’re willing to have some fun with me in the back of a truck.” Now that the idea had taken hold, he glanced around, wondering where they could find some privacy right now. Too bad it was the middle of the day and they were on the edge of town with no natural barriers. The church next to them was empty, abandoned a couple of decades earlier, but they weren’t that far from the hardware store and the diner, so this wasn’t the ideal location. Not to mention, you know, the whole dead people thing. Probably a bit of a mood killer.

“Maybe. You’ll have to do a lot of convincing, though. Despite my earlier behavior, I’m not much of a risk taker. Getting caught scares me.”

They walked into the cemetery, which was moderately neglected. The grass needed to be cut and there were weeds infiltrating the paths, but the headstones looked tended to.

“I guess I can’t say anything about that. It’s been a while since I took any risks.” The thought made him feel a little glum. “Though I never cared much about getting caught. Shelby will vouch for me on that.”

“I don’t know. I’m not sure there’s anything admirable about intentional disdain.”

His eyebrow shot up and he dropped her hand. Was she reprimanding him? Because that was not hot. “I don’t think not worrying about others’ opinions is the same as disdain.”

“Maybe not.” Piper looked around at the headstones. “I don’t think I’ve ever been in here. That’s a good thing, I suppose.”

Not sure why she had dropped that line of conversation so suddenly, Brady decided not to worry about it. He was probably imagining judgment because he was feeling a little defensive. Failure tended to do that to a guy. “My grandfather’s buried here but he died long before I was born.”

“I don’t like cemeteries. I tend to see things other people don’t see.”

Brady hadn’t even thought about that. While Piper had originally downplayed her interaction with ghosts, claiming she hadn’t really seen them since she was a kid, it was clear now that wasn’t true. At all. She had seen enough that she’d chosen the route of avoiding any circumstances that might increase her odds of encounters. It explained the wariness she was wearing on her face.

“What’s the craziest thing you’ve ever seen?” he asked. “You have to have some good stories.”

“The worst was the time I tried to pet a cow that wasn’t there. God, I was so embarrassed. We were on a school trip and I tried to pretend I’d done it on purpose. But the girls in my class weren’t buying it. It gave them one more reason to make fun of me.”

The thought of little Piper, the way Brady remembered, solemn and wise beyond her years, enduring the taunts of her classmates, gave him a pit in his gut. “Jealous bitches.”

Piper laughed. “I don’t think a single one of them was jealous of me, but that’s sweet of you to say.”

“I don’t understand bullying. Why does anyone enjoy making someone else feel so terrible?” Brady had been well liked in school and he had moved easily between groups of students, despite his penchant for rebellious hairstyles. He had never really understood what the big deal was—why a jock couldn’t be friends with a brainiac or an emo kid. “There was this one kid in school . . . He was really small and had these thick glasses. You know what it’s like here. Not every family can afford those freaking featherweight lenses, so these glasses were thick. And one time a couple of football players were harassing him on the bus. They were punching him, and I stepped in between and took a hit to the side of the head. Got back up and nailed the ass**le in the gut.” Brady dropped Piper’s hand and squatted down beside a headstone to read it. He shrugged up at her. “I felt like a superhero defending the weak.”

Come to think of it, he might have been more selfless in his youth.

“I got my ass kicked but it was worth it. Then my dad grounded me for fighting. When I tried to explain what had happened, he told me I shouldn’t have interfered.” Brady hadn’t really remembered that until right that very second. “That the little loser needed to learn to stand up for himself.” He furrowed his eyebrows, the pit in his stomach growing, a hot bile rising up in his mouth. No wonder he hadn’t gotten along with his father. “Good advice, huh?”

Piper stood there, her hair trailing down towards him like an aggressive vine, tendrils swaying and reaching for him, the sun behind her head. “That’s terrible advice. Your father should be ashamed of himself. Everyone deserves compassion.”

As she squatted down beside him, Brady thought that it would be a very wonderful thing to be loved by a woman as compassionate as Piper. What would it feel like to see that face on the end of every day, to see a love that would never bend or break, never demand or accuse? Needing to look away, or she would see his confusion, Brady stared at the headstone. Edith Pearl Magnus, Beloved Wife and Mother. Not what he was looking for. Or who, rather. Or was he looking for something else entirely? Beloved wife and mother . . .

“You were a nice guy, Brady, defender of small boys on the bus and a butterfly painter for bald girls.”

He’d forgotten about the butterfly mural. He’d taken a fair amount of pride in that job. “Your dad paid me to paint those,” he said, feeling melancholy. He didn’t want credit where none was due.

“I know,” she said. “But you were nice to me, and that was natural. No one paid for that. Kindness always has an impact.”

Brady was no hero, so he just smiled. “So do butterflies, apparently. I should have taken a picture of that wall.”

“Oh, it’s still there. My grandparents live in that house, but the room was never painted.”

“Really?” Though he shouldn’t be surprised. Things didn’t change here for no reason. There was an attitude that you didn’t fix something unless it was broken.

“Really.” She smiled at him. “What you’re looking for isn’t this close to the entrance to the cemetery.”