Disclaimer: I do not own The Red Road.
A/N: This is semi-AU of S2 (mostly because only one episode has aired). Phillip did not cause trouble with the guys at the paving company, and Mac has not been murdered.
Grumbling under his breath, Phillip loaded the bed of his truck with the lumber, shingles, boxes of nails, and a few heavy locks. Phillip had gotten an early morning wake-up call from his mother informing him that she had talked to Mac, and he could stay in the house if he fixed it up and paid a little rent. It was more than Phillip had ever anticipated from Mac, in fact all Phillip expected from Mac was a sneer.
Dropping the last stack of supplies into the back of the truck, Phillip's brows drew together slightly as the bright sunlight of early morning spring seemed to evaporate. Phillip tipped his dark head skyward, appraising the heavens as the sun was blocked from view by dark clouds. Shaking his head in annoyance, Phillip hurriedly covered the supplies with one of the myriad of tarps Marie had shoved into his arms this morning.
Phillip's mother was something else. She ran hot and cold faster than the weather changed in the mountains. After standing awkwardly in the door of the house that wasn't really his, and learning his mother had interceded on his behalf with Mac, Phillip had been practically ordered to put tarps up over the holes, because if he put it off he would regret it. Humoring his mother, Phillip had climbed onto the roof and hammered the blue tarps over the holes in the roof. Of course he hadn't done it with a smile. He had done it with a long suffering sigh that was aimed to needle Marie, irritating her like a good son should.
Supplies secured, Phillip slid inside the cab of the old truck and set off just as the first fat drops of rain fell on the windshield, warping Phillip's view of the world outside. It was a fairly quiet Saturday in Walpole, Phillip acknowledged. Most of the tourists already ensconced in the mountain, safe in their tents from the storm that was coming. The locals had never been terribly vigorous. Walpole was a slow sort of town, there wasn't much to do in the town, and most people spent the weekends at home with their families.
The utter stillness of the town is what made the subtle against one of the gas-station quick stops stand out to Phillip. The small figure standing under the tiny awning shifted, Phillip watched the rain-blurred figure. A jolt shot through his body as the water was swiped away by the wipers and the figure came into focus: a shock of coppery red hair and a very familiar frowning face.
Blindly, Phillip wrenched the steering wheel around, clipping a curb, and maneuvering the old vehicle into the gas station. Not bothering to turn the engine off, Phillip barely managed to shift the truck into park before he stepped out into the rising deluge of rain. Running on instinct, Phillip jogged around the truck and towards the figure stopping inches from her, only barely registering the astonishment that flashed behind blue-green eyes.
"Get in the truck," Phillip's voice came out as a dull roar, an order that the storm was quickly drowning out. The girl didn't move, rooted to the spot. Towering over her, body curved, Phillip was struck by how easy it would be to pull her into his arms.
"Get in the truck, Kate," Phillip repeated, settling a soaked arm around her shoulders and using a hand between her shoulders to urge Kate towards the truck.
Her stance gave under the weight of his gaze and hand, she sprinted forward, Phillip at her heels. In a flurry of oddly coordinated movements Phillip had managed to fling the passenger door open and half-lift Kate up onto the seat before slamming the door once she was safely inside. Panting, Phillip reached the other side of the car and slipped inside, jerking the door shut, the sharp thud silencing most of the deafening roar outside.
Safe from the downpour, Kate and Phillip's heavy breaths caused a fog to grow on the windows, further blocking out the world. Sliding the soaked hood from her head, Kate tugged at the sweatshirt she wore. It was sodden, making her shiver sharply. Kate nearly jumped as a large hand reached forward and began to fiddle with the dials, kicking the heater on. As the adrenaline began to bleed out of her system, Kate realized that she had effectively trapped herself in a situation that left her feeling entirely unbalanced.
If Kate had learned anything from the past year's events, it was that timidity with this man was pointless. Bracing herself, Kate turned silently to look at the hulking man who was looking determinedly out the windshield, squinting as the storm pitched and screamed.
"Hi," her voice was soft, just above a whisper, but it was void of fear.
Hazel eyes whipped towards her, locking onto her, "Kate." The husky rumble of his voice made her name sound like a guttural plea.
"Hi," Kate repeated, feeling her cheeks warm sharply.
The laughter that bubbled up and out of Phillip was hysterical; it was low and shook his whole body. Running his hands through his long hair, Phillip shifted in his seat, unwittingly bringing himself closer to Kate. Her soft laughter joined his, the utter improbability of the situation making reality slip away momentarily.
Slowly the frenetic laughter faded, though an odd tinkle of laughter or chuckle permeated the warm cab for a few moments later.
"Ugh," Phillip groaned, head lolling back against the headrest, "Hi, Kate."
Kate curled her legs up and sat on them, attempting to keep the chill at bay. Her lower lip tucked between her teeth as she considered what she wanted to say to him. At last, Kate sighed, "I heard you were back."
To Kate it sounded stupid, it was a stupid comment. What did he care what she had heard. But Kate had needed to say something. To have the upper-hand in this conversation. Phillip had dominated the last conversation they shared, the only conversation they had shared. Phillip had walked into her life, and spoken to her like...she didn't even know. But he had looked at her, really looked at her, instead of through her like most people did. Everything had changed after that. Everyday life wasn't the same.
"Yer, dad," Phillip questioned softly, tilting his head to watch Kate.
Her head shook slightly as his voice drew her from her thoughts, "No. He hasn't talked about you at all." In truth, the bond Kate and Harold Jensen once shared hadn't been the same since Phillip had walked into her life. One hand tugged at water-logged red-brown hair, "The guys at the station were talking about it."
His head rose, eyes darkening, "What were you doing at the station?" Phillip's body thrummed with anxiety, he had no love for the cops of Walpole, they weren't the smartest, kindest, or most honest of men, and he certainly didn't trust them.
"Sometimes my dad forgets his lunch, I drop it off for him," Kate answered, voice hesitant.
Lifting one arm, Phillip ghosted his index finger along the curve of Kate's jaw. Her skin was silky and slick under his skin. Throat tightening, Phillip watched Kate carefully, waiting for her to flinch away or shudder in disgust. A brief shot of euphoria flooded Phillip's brain Kate did nothing, ignoring him. Feeling brave, boosted by his small victory, Phillip laid his hand against Kate's neck, large hand almost cupping her cheek. This was sin. She fit against him snugly, her pulse tripping against his fingers. Phillip couldn't help but groan at how tiny she was, how small Kate looked huddled in wet clothes and curled in a ball. Kate's eyes fluttered closed as Phillip's strong thumb stroked along her cheekbone.
"Sweet Girl," Phillip mumbled as his hands brushed against the clammy skin. He drew back, the moment of suspended reality shattered, "You're frozen. Take your sweatshirt off."
Kate's eyes opened wide at the order even as his hand fell away. She hesitated but began to shrug out of the garment. It was common sense, being in wet clothes wouldn't do her any good. Focused on her task, Kate never noticed how dark Phillip's eyes grew. The gnawing emptiness filled his gut as he watched her drag the heavy fabric up and keep her camisole down. His tongue flickered out to swipe at his dry lips, fingers twitching as he forced himself to remain still.
Phillip wanted nothing more than to reach across the chasm between them and skim his fingers up her sides, helping her pull the material up. Possibly grazing soft, warm skin as he helped. Phillip gritted his teeth against the images, the phantom sensations. Instinct demanded that Phillip breach the twelve-inch distance and fill his hands with her, taste her, breathe her. Phillip defied his instinct, ignoring his trembling hands and tightening muscles. He refused to cross the invisible line he had already toed so well.
When the sweatshirt had been dropped to the floorboards, Kate bit her lip and peered out the window. It was still pouring, the wind bending the trees sharply.
"We should go," Kate turned back to face Phillip.
It was obvious to Phillip what she meant. It would be pretty bad if anyone to find them sitting alone in his truck. Harold would blow a gasket and then kill him. Phillip didn't question Kate's easy presence as he slid the truck into gear and gave it a little gas. He had never been one to look a gift horse in the mouth, and even if Phillip was curious about how at ease Kate was, he wouldn't verbalize it. Phillip was terrified that he would break whatever tenuous peace was stretched between him and Kate. Pulling out of the gas-station, Phillip set his mind to strengthening that bond.
He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, she sat comfortably, face relaxed as he drove. Phillip was crowing on the inside, his body warming with pleasure and pride. There were no logical reasons for Kate to be sitting beside him as if it was normal. If he had been thinking clearly as he ushered her into his truck, Phillip would have expected her to lash out at him, run away from him instead of obey him. The cab was quiet except for the tinny sound of rain on the roof as they drove. Kate's soft honey scent infused the air, drawing Phillip back to the first time he had been caught by her sweetness.
Phillip groaned and scrubbed his palms over his face before looking up at the girl. "It's okay," he told her again, "I'm not going to hurt you."
The slender redhead nodded slightly, body still rigid.
"Please," Phillip breathed out, "sit, I promise I won't hurt you."
He watched her, every twitch of every muscle, every twist, and every inch of skin slipping and sliding beneath fabric. Slowly Kate Jensen felt her way to a footstool, settling stiffly onto it.
"I'm Phillip," he told her, peering at her from beneath hooded eyes.
"Kate," she mumbled keeping his gaze.
His lips twitched upward, smiling, "I know." Kate didn't speak, waiting like a rabbit ready to bolt at any sudden movement. Phillip's smile faded into a frown, "Do you know why I'm here?"
A shake of her head had her curls bouncing softly, drawing Phillip's eyes to the gentle curve of her neck, graceful in every way.
"Your father did a very stupid thing," Phillip told her slowly, "he betrayed my trust, even when I was trying to help him."
"With what," the quiet question had Phillip biting his lip in excitement.
As he leaned back, Phillip toyed with the drawing again, "I'm a bad man, Kate. Does that scare you?" Phillip didn't give her a chance to respond, powering on, "'course your folks aren't much better now. Did you know they blamed me for Brian's death, drove me out of town? Even though I was innocent? Everything I could have been…they took from me."
Phillip rocketed to his feet, taking one great step forward so he stood before Kate. Raking his hands through his hair, Phillip sank into a squat before the young woman, gazing into her light eyes. He gave a half-smile as he inhaled, Phillip's cheek ticked upwards as a soft sweetness filled his lungs. Honey, fresh honey. Sweet and soft, and slightly flowery.
"Kate," her name was a breath that fanned over her face, warm and spicy, "Oh, Katie."
The girl in question shied away from his gaze, tucking her chin into her chest.
A strong hand slipped beneath her chin, softly lifting her face towards his. He sank to his knees; absently Phillip noted he had never been brought to his knees by a mere look from a woman. But in that moment, Phillip found himself kneeling before Kate Jensen as though it was the most natural thing in the world. And at her feet, holding her gaze, Phillip let his sins spill from his lips, telling her the brutal truths of his life.
With every word, every sin he whispered, Phillip watched Kate's wide eyes, the slight quiver of her soft pink lower lip. She never ripped her chin from his grip, never cursed him to hell, never kicked out at him. He could feel the slight tremors that rocked her body, and he wanted to stop, wanted to spare her the knowledge of all he had done, but Phillip couldn't seem to stem the flow of rough, half-hoarse words.
When the whole sordid tale of the last weeks had been spilled into the air, Phillip waited. Her soft voice broke his laconic state, "I'm sorry."
Pulling onto the back roads, Phillip moved further into Lenape territory, away from the safety of the suburbs. He kept one eye on Kate, waiting for any argument she might give. None came, and after a distance, Phillip pulled over under a copse of sturdy trees that had seen generations come and go. The canopy of thick branches and leaves shrouded them from the storm, the rain and wind dying down and leaving Kate and Phillip alone.
Killing the engine the Lenape man twisted to face his obsession. "Why," he paused, unsure of how to continue, "Why did you get in the truck?"
Eyes that were more green than blue in that moment swept across his face before Kate's soft voice answered him as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Because you asked."
A snort of sardonic laughter tore from Phillip. "I didn't ask you," his head shook in disbelief, droplets of water flying from the long strands of his hair, "I told you to."
Kate's mouth dropped open to answer but she paused, tongue sliding along perfectly pink lips. "Would you have made me?"
"Maybe," came the gruff answer.
Lips curled upward, Kate shook her head, as she stared up at him, "You wouldn't have hurt me."
"I could."
"You haven't," Kate told him firmly as she reached one hand over to cover his hand as it lay against his leg.
"With everything you know," Phillip set his jaw, "you should know better than to trust me."
The tension snapped as Kate shrugged, a broad smile pulling at her face, "Maybe I can see the forest for the trees."
It was an offhand comment, jokingly tossed out to lighten the mood. There was, however, something distinctly uncomfortable about Kate's words.
Hand drawing back, Kate stretched as the heat of the trunk began to warm her, drying her skin. As Kate shifted, Phillip let himself relax.
"It wasn't supposed to rain," Kate frowned as she craned her neck so she could look up at the sky outside. "I checked the weather report."
"Mother Nature doesn't like to be predictable," Phillip told her. "At least that's what my mom says."
A smile crept along Kate's pink lips, "Sounds like a smart woman."
"You'd like her," was the short reply. Another thought got stuck in Phillip's throat. He felt like he was balancing on the head of a needle. Phillip had never been one to watch his mouth, but now he was scared shitless of what might come out if he wasn't careful. Hell, he had already crossed too many lines, let too much slip.
Kate shifted, bending forward, fingers tugging at the laces of a pair of hiking boots. With a soft sigh, Kate toed her shoes off. Phillip's scarred brow lifted in interest. Kate wasn't a hiker. He had gathered that from their last meeting. A fleeting panic raced through Phillip's mind. It had been a year. The last time he had seen Kate was a year before. How much had changed, was she still the same sweet girl that had met his gaze and been stubborn enough not to scream or run.
They sat in near silence as the rain lessened, a few short, trivial exchanges passed between them. They never strayed from polite conversation, grocery store small talk that meant too little to care. But they both cared.
When the rain became a drizzle, Phillip backed the truck back onto the path and headed towards the Jensen house. They both acted as though it was natural for him to be driving Kate home.
When the silence became too much and the distance to their parting grew too short, Phillip guided the truck to the side of the road. The Jensen house only a block away.
Before Kate could open the door Phillip spoke, his voice unguarded, soft, "What were you doing out so early on a Saturday?"
Popping the door open Kate slipped out of the truck and turned to face the man who had been staring at her for most of the morning. "I wanted to see the mountain up close before I couldn't anymore."
The answer was so simple and sweet that Phillip couldn't help but smile, teeth glinting against tanned skin and raven hair. "Kate," he leaned across the cab toward her, "any day you want, I'll take you up there."
She doesn't speak. She smiles instead. A smile that lit up her whole face, transforming her from pretty to stunning. Eyes crinkled in glee, Kate bit her lip to hide her smile as she closed the door and dodged across the road, never looking back.
It wasn't until Phillip had pulled into "his" driveway that he noticed the abandoned sweatshirt on the floor of his truck. Kate's. He scooped it up, and though the fabric was still damp the smell of honey caught Phillip's attention a faint smile crossing his face.
A/N: Thank you so much to those who took the time to review this. I spent a few days away from this chapter and had to come back because in my first draft things escalated a little too quickly. I'm pretty happy with this progression. Let me know what you think! Ta.