When he asks, “Was your brother unable to take you home because he was with Dahlia?” I pick myself up immediately. There’s the elephant in the room that we’ve only briefly touched on. I swat my tears away and stare in disbelief at him. The anger that rears this time is real, genuine, and I don’t have to fake it.
“Never mind, it’s not important. What happened after that?” he asks, but it’s too late. My wall is already back up.
I purse my lips at him. “Did you even show up that night? Did you go to my apartment like you said you would?”
He sits up and wipes his palms on his jeans. His eyes cut over to the book on my coffee table. The book he gave me because it’s his favorite. The book he remembered he was reading the first time we met.
I take his lack of response to mean no, he didn’t show up. “What would you have done had I told you?”
He swallows, working his throat.
My phone rings, interrupting this painful admission of guilt, and I seize the opportunity to put an end to the conversation when I see Tate’s name flash across the screen. I reach to answer it, but he grabs my wrist.
“You’re going to answer that in the middle of this?”
I take a deep breath, then another one. My pulse is racing. “It might be important.”
“This is important!” he seethes, letting go of my wrist.
I let it ring.
Suddenly his eyes grow dark and his gaze sharp. “You’re f**king him, aren’t you?”
His question temporarily stuns me, but I quickly scramble to my feet, needing more distance from him. But even the distance can’t contain my hurt. He thinks I’m the one screwing someone? Well, let him. That will work. I know how it feels. With my eyes narrowing at him I yell, “Why do you care!” and a rage flames inside me as I consciously decide to keep silent.
He too rises and moves closer to me. His fingers curl around my upper arms and I blink rapidly, standing frozen in place—love, lust, want, need, and even fear make my stomach tighten and my chest constrict.
His body stiffens and his grip tightens. “You know why I care.”
“No! No, I don’t! What I know is that you will always do what’s best for you!”
He drops his hold on me as he stares in stunned silence.
But I said what I believe to be true. I finally admitted it out loud. It’s why I kept my distance for as long as I did. He’s proven to me time and time again that he makes the decisions that are best for him and him alone. He could have tried to find me after that first night we spent together—but he didn’t because he had a girlfriend. When he saw me at River’s house that first time—he could have come after me, but he went after Dahlia because that was what was best for him. Then this past summer when I realized he messed around with someone—it wasn’t morals that drove my anger but rather the lack of persistence to prove he was interested in me. And just last week when I told him I gave our baby up—he left me at the restaurant because it was best for him.
I look away from his powerful stare, afraid of what I might see if I look any longer. “Do you have anything else you want to know? Because if not I think we’re done.”
I dare to look up when he fails to answer, and the stricken look on his face is enough to make me avert my gaze again.
“Was the baby a boy or a girl?” he asks softly.
I cross my arms over my chest in a hopeless effort to protect my heart. “I don’t know,” I whisper.
My phone rings again and this time I scurry toward it. To put an end to both our pain I answer, “Hello.”
My eyes searching the floor, I spot his boots turn and I watch him go. He stops for a moment at the door.
“I’m here,” I say into the phone.
The door slams and I jump. And as I strain to hear him pound down the concrete stairs, I feel my heart shrink just a little bit more as tears scald first my cheeks, then my neck, and finally my chest.
CHAPTER 25
Losing Sleep
Ben
Waking up on Thanksgiving morning to the smell of pumpkin bread baking in the oven reminds me so much of my mother. An aromatic wake-up call, the scent is enough to lure me from my old bedroom and out to the kitchen. I pad across the room and pour a cup of coffee that smells recently brewed. Standing at the large picture window in the kitchen, I stare out at the waves crashing against the rocks. Weeks have passed since I’ve seen S’belle, but I can’t stop considering how different things might have been if Dahlia had stayed at the bar that night. And truth be told, I think that had I known about the baby I would never have let her give it up for adoption. But our issues run deeper than just our painful past—she proved that.
“You’re awake,” Serena says, entering the room.
“How could I not be?” I grin over at her.
She pulls the loaves of bread from the oven. “Did the wafting smell of cinnamon wake you up?”
“I hope you added extra cinnamon.”
“Of course. Just like Mom.” She grins.
“It’s strange, being here on Thanksgiving without her.”
“Yeah, it is. I really miss her.”
I turn back toward the window and sip from my cup. “So do I.”
Serena and Jason both sold their own places and decided to make Mom’s house their new home. Trent was home from college and Caleb was supposed to arrive in town last night but had a flight delay. My sister had insisted I spend the night with them since today was a holiday. Trent arrived home last Sunday and has alternated staying with me and staying here.
With Aerie gone from the office, I’ve been extremely busy at work and although she’s doing what she can remotely, there is some on-site work to be done. Well, maybe there isn’t, but I’ve volunteered to take it on nonetheless to keep myself busy. But with Trent’s arrival I actually took the week off. We’ve surfed, gone to the movies, and hung around talking about how college life is treating him. He really loves it.
“Caleb called. He’s on his way from the airport,” Serena tells me.
I turn. “Great f**king news.”
“What’s great f**king news?” Trent asks, standing shirtless in the doorway.
Serena shoots me a glare.
I shrug.
“Uncle Caleb will be here soon.”
“Oh, cool,” Trent says, then turns to me. “Want to hit the point?”
“Sure, just let me finish my coffee.”
“I’ll pack the shit in the car.”
“Trent! Cut the swearing now. I mean it.”
He rolls his eyes. “I’ll put the stuff in the car,” he corrects himself.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” I ask Serena.
She walks closer to me. “First time I’ve seen you laugh in a while. That’s all.”
“Really? I hadn’t noticed.”
“Well, I have.”
I sidestep her and place my cup in the sink. “We’re off. Will you be okay?”
She laughs. “Like the two of you would be any help anyway?”
“Hey, I help.”
“Go have fun.”
I salute her. “If you insist.”
It’s a short drive to the beach and before I know it I’ve found some peace on the water. Surfing has always helped me rid my mind of everything. Time flies and I’m glad we hit the waves, but it’s time to get back. The ocean shimmers in the distance as the clouds move toward us. From where we stand stripping off our wet suits, the sky is bright with the afternoon sunshine casting upon us. A sun shower has already left its marks in the sand, but the tide is picking up in an indication that downpours are imminent.
“Come on, the storm is coming,” Trent says.
I smirk at him. “Are you afraid of a little thunder and lightning?”
Trent turns, rolling his eyes. “Fuck no. It’s just Mom will be calling every five minutes if we’re not home before it starts.”
I swing my arm around him. “That’s sweet that you’re concerned for your mother.”
He snorts, shrugging out of my hold. “You were always concerned about Grandma too. And you wouldn’t have wanted her on your case for not calling.”
I catch his eye. “Yeah. Yeah, I was.”
I let Trent drive home and just stare out the window. As we pull onto the gravel of the driveway, the tires spin. My head snaps to Trent. “Hey, watch it.”
He grins. “I love this car. It’s the shit. And you know, you really need to let me ride your bike.”
“No f**king way. Your mother will kill me.”
He rolls his eyes. “I call car duty.”
“You’re a little shit.”
He shrugs.
I carry the boards around back to the deck as Trent unloads the gear.
“Hey, man, how the f**k are you?” Caleb calls over the railing.
I toss the boards on the sand as he rushes for me and we collapse into a flurry of backslapping.
“Fuck me, you made it.”
“I sure did. And not just for a day. The week.”
I slant him a look. “A week?”
“Well, I think so,” he says with a cocky grin.
“Fucking awesome. Where are you staying?”
“I was hoping I wouldn’t have to crash with the newlyweds,” he says with a laugh.
“So, are you asking to stay with me?”
“Well, I was hoping . . .”
I save him from groveling and push him into the sand. A headlock, a few rolls, and sand sticking to us everywhere don’t stop us, but my sister’s voice makes us freeze.
“What the hell are you doing?” she calls from the top of the steps.
I rush to my feet.
Caleb one-ups me and rushes toward her. “Need help, Serena?”
She narrows her eyes at him. He shrugs. “Fucker jumped me.”
She sighs in deep exasperation and turns on her heel.
I catch up to Caleb. “Just a little piece of advice, f**ker. Keep the swearing to a minimum around my sister. Trent’s picked up the same nasty habit and Serena is not happy about it.”
“You could have warned me!”
“When? Between you begging me for a place to stay and using all your new fancy moves to beat the shit out of me?”
His grin widens. “I did learn some cool shit.”
I shove him up the stairs. “You’d better have time to teach me how to kick your ass, then.”
An hour later the table has been set, the game is on, and Caleb, Trent, and I are sacked out watching it. I look up and see Serena gazing around the room with a peaceful look on her face.
“Want some help?” I ask her.
“Suck-up,” Caleb mutters quietly enough that my sister can’t hear.
“Could you help me bring out the food? Jason’s busy trying to find the carving knife.”
Trent clears his throat. “The one with the black-and-silver handle?”
“Yes,” Serena answers, casting her piercing gaze his way.
“Let me help Dad with that.” He glares at me.
She looks at him.
He points to me.
I shrug. “We had to clean some fish the other day before we cooked them over the open fire.”
Surprisingly she laughs. “I like having everyone home.”
I give her a smile, happy to be here but feeling as if a piece of me is missing. I’m just not sure what piece.
During dinner we all eat as if we haven’t eaten in years, and before I know it the sun is setting and I’m ready to head home, stuffed with turkey, mashed potatoes, cranberries, and apple pie. Serena hands me a bag to take home.
“Hold on, I forgot the pumpkin bread,” she says, hurrying toward the kitchen.
“I’m coming with you, Uncle Ben. Hold up for me,” Trent says from the top of the stairs.
