Hunter tosses his bag in the backseat and slouches down without a word. She stares incredulously at him.
“What the hell was that about?”
He shrugs.
“They’re dicks, okay? Let’s drop it.”
“Look at me, Hunter.”
When he huffs and pops his earbuds in, she taps his shoulder and fixes him with a glare that promises consequences if he doesn’t comply. He pulls the earbuds out as she stops the car inside the loading zone along the curb. Two teenage girls in short-shorts mingle on the sidewalk. Hunter turns his head away from them.
“Come on, Mom. Drive.”
“Not until you tell me what’s going on.”
Hunter sighs. His hands won’t sit still, tugging at the tears in his black jeans. That’s another thing. Everything he wears is black. His shirt, jeans, sneakers. Even his hair, dark to begin with, is dyed to a midnight pitch.
“Why weren’t you with your teammates?”
“Because Coach kicked me off the team, okay? Happy now?”
While the news doesn’t surprise Darcy, it still feels like a kick to the stomach. Hunter is good at football, and being part of the team chipped away at the walls he’d fortified after leaving Virginia. Hunter blamed her for the move, and rightfully so. Tearing Hunter away from his friends before junior year forced him to start over. New beginnings were scary during high school. Kids labeled you as an outsider.
“No, I’m not happy. Why did the coach kick you off the team? Did you get into a fight with one of those boys?”
“Thanks for going there. Because of course, I’d start a fight. That’s all I do, right?”
“I never said that.”
“It’s what you were thinking.”
Darcy bites the inside of her cheek.
“Then why?”
He shakes his head. Accepting Hunter isn’t ready to talk about it, she yanks the car off the curb and drives down the hill.
“It’s that stupid team rule. We’re supposed to wear a shirt and tie. I’m not dressing like a freaking geek every day until November.”
Darcy wants to tell him he looks good dressed up, but that’s poison to Hunter. She might as well invoke grandma-mode and pinch his cheeks, tell him what a handsome boy he is. In her mind, the conversation isn’t finished. He’s being unreasonable.
“Didn’t Coach Parker move you up to second string wide receiver?”
“I guess,” he says, continuing to pick at his jeans.
“Then he must think you’re good, Hunter. If he didn’t, he’d sit you on the end of the bench and ignore you. Talk to him. I’m sure he’ll let you back on the team if you’re sincere.”
Hunter doesn’t answer. The earbuds pop back in, and she hears guitars squeal and cymbals clash. If the heavy metal sounds this loud to her, what must it be doing to his ears?
They descend the ridge. To the east, early autumn sunlight sparkles across the Atlantic as waves pound the beach. A scattering of sailboats are on the water, but only a few people dot the sand despite the beautiful weather. Blue and green waters converge with white breakers, and for the first time a hint of a grin forms on Hunter’s face. Living by the ocean has its benefits.
The waves perish where the land juts out and forms a cove. Two rocky cliffs loom over the cove and block the westering sun, turning the water an oily black. She understands why the locals refer to Genoa Cove as Darkwater Cove. The water is murky under full sun and a bottomless pit at midnight.
Leaving Virginia after twenty years hadn’t been easy, but there were too many skeletons lurking in those closets. Thirteen years ago, six months after entering the Bureau as a Behavioral Analyst, she lost her husband, Tyler, to an aneurysm. Hunter had been four, Jennifer only one, so she understood why Tyler’s death affected Hunter more. Jennifer had been too young to carry memories of her father, whereas Hunter recalled picnics in the park and Tyler pushing him on the swing set behind their first apartment. After Jennifer was born they bought their first home, a tiny ranch in middle class suburbia, seven miles from Quantico. A year later, Tyler died on the way home from the grocery store. He was working late all week, and Darcy asked him to grab bread and eggs for breakfast on the way home. According to the doctor, Tyler died before the car crunched against the telephone pole.
For several years Darcy sensed Tyler’s ghost around every corner. She entered rooms and expected to find him there, feet up on the sofa, the Redskins game on. She’d needed a change of scenery then, a new start, but she stayed, stasis being one of the universe’s most powerful forces. After the stabbing and retirement, life in Virginia lent nothing but bad memories.
She sneaks a glance at Hunter. His chin rests on his elbow, face against the window. When the car shimmies over a grooved road, his cheeks jiggle. Darcy wishes he could be four again. That was when she began to lose him, she realizes. Subtle changes at first—loss of appetite, disobedience. As the years passed, he frequently spent nights at friends’ houses. His grades dropped during sixth grade and cratered when he reached high school.
Taking the first turn down Main Street, she passes a gazebo set on a grassy island separating oncoming traffic. At the center of the village, a red brick road carries traffic through the commerce district. Genoa Cove is rich with old money, and this is apparent in the upscale clothing and jewelry stores. Every summer, tourism fills the coffers and boosts the village’s economy, but there’s enough money from the year-round residents to support Genoa Cove through a slow year. Even the local banks are powerful enough to stave off their national competitors.
She pulls into a parking spot in front of Antonia’s Pizza and stops the engine. Hunter cuts the music and looks at her cockeyed.
“What are we doing here?”
“Making the most of my cheat meal,” she says, climbing out of the car. Though Darcy watches her calories and bikes, she grants herself a fun meal every week. Doing so kills the cravings and gives her a reward to look forward to. She breathes deeply through her nose. “Smell that? That’s heaven wrapped in dough.”
This elicits a smile from Hunter. Her analogies truly suck. He tries to hide the grin by pulling his hood up, but she notices.
The waitress seats them in a booth and takes their order after a short wait. Darcy scans the faces and doesn’t recognize anyone. Though she feels at home in Genoa Cove, destined to live here, she’s a stranger.
The room is wider than it is long with booths along the wall and tables in the center. Stacks of empty pizza boxes sit on the end of the counter where a man and woman order two slices to go. Scents of dough, cheese, and marinara sauce rumble her stomach. She hasn’t eaten since lunch, and self-defense class left her famished. A jukebox in the corner plays a song from The Chainsmokers. Darcy’s head bobs along to the beat as Hunter rolls his eyes.
“You don’t like your mom keeping up with new music?”
For a moment she’s certain he’ll slip his earbuds in, but he doesn’t. Instead, he shakes his head and runs his eyes across the room. His gaze stops near the jukebox, and he lowers his eyes and places his hand over his face. Not quick enough. The pretty girl in the jean miniskirt recognized him and is coming over with her friend.