REBEL LOVE
TESS OLIVER
REBEL LOVE ISBN-13: 978-1974672936 ISBN-10: 197467293X Copyright © 2017 by Tess Oliver Cover Image: Lane Dorsey All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
CO NTENTS
Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23
Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Chapter 28 Chapter 29 Chapter 30 Chapter 31 Chapter 32 Chapter 33 Chapter 34 Chapter 35 Chapter 36 Chapter 37 Also by Tess Oliver About the Author
PROLOGUE
JOSHUA
M
y dad was an armchair philosopher . . . literally. As long as he had a bottle of whiskey to go with his creaky recliner, he could come up with all kinds of insightful nuggets of worthless shit. Every Friday night he'd come home from a long week of work and settle into his easy chair with a bottle of cheap scotch and the television remote. During commercials, he'd come up with useless and brilliant theories about life. It helped him deal with the hurt of losing my mom, the one woman he had ever loved, and it helped him pass the time until the whiskey finally took him to his grave. On one of those long nights, when I watched him dilute his blood with enough alcohol to kill a man twice his size, he came up with the theory that life was just a long series of split second decisions.
Every footstep forward on a sidewalk, he claimed, was a split second decision that passed by so quickly you didn't even realize you'd made it until you were already at the curb. 'Joshua', he would say with the slow stretched speech of a man drunk on heartbreak and liquor, 'there are split second decisions that end happily, some that cause overwhelming regret and even some that have changed the course of history'. For a drunk, the man was a fucking genius. And an awesome dad. For a long time, I thought of that kiss, the kiss that unraveled everything, the kiss that changed the course of history, as a split second decision. Somehow categorizing it as rash and impulsive made it seem less important. But something can't be a split second decision if you've been thinking about it forever. The truth was, I'd thought about that damn kiss for so long, if I closed my eyes and let my mind wander back four years to that night, I could still feel Rebecca's lips pressed against mine. There was nothing split second about an obsession. And while she might have been impetuous and wild, there sure as hell wasn't anything split second about Rebecca . . . the girl I called Rebel.
CHAPTER 1
JOSHUA
T
ory nestled her naked body against my back, waking me from a deep sleep. The gray light of a cloudy morning filtered into the room. The rumpled trail of our clothes led from the hallway to the bed. She kissed the back of my shoulder and swept her hand over my stomach and down to my cock. As her fingers wrapped around my erection, my phone rang, interrupting the early morning quiet. "Let it ring," Tory sighed as she stroked me and grazed my back with her hardened nipples. It was my usual Paradise City ringtone but for some reason it sounded more urgent, as if Slash was strumming his Les Paul just a little harder than normal. I reached for the phone. Tory let me know her displeasure by squeezing my cock just a little too
hard. "Ouch, shit, remind me to avoid a blow job when you're in a bad mood." "Fuck you, Josh." Tory rolled over to her other side. I sat up. I didn't recognize the number which meant I'd just blown morning sex for someone selling solar panels or a life insurance policy. I answered. "It's pretty fucking early for a damn sales pitch." "He's out. Vanderbuilt or Vanderhout or Vanderfuck, whatever the hell his name is, he got out of jail four months ago." I hadn't realized that my pulse had shot ahead until I heard it echoing back at me through my phone. It had been four years since I'd heard her voice. It still had the same effect on me. "Rebecca?" Tory rolled back over to listen as I said the name. "Where are you?" "What does that matter, Josh? Did you hear me? He's out. They let that fucking asshole out early." I didn't know how to respond, so I took the coward's way out with silence. "You fucking knew? Why the hell didn't you tell me?" "Because I knew it would just make you mad. Seems that was a good call on my part. Where are
you at? No one has heard from you in months." Behind me, Tory made a point of hoisting herself out of bed and stomping across the floor to the bathroom. The door snapped sharply shut behind her. "I let the first boogeyman off the hook," Rebecca continued, "but it's not going to happen this time." "What the hell are you talking about? You're not making any sense. What boogeyman? What are you up to?" "Doesn't matter. Sorry I woke you." There was a pause. I quickly searched for something to say to keep her on the phone longer. But she had me so stunned from the call, my head was blank. "Hey, Josh?" The anger in her tone had softened. Her voice had always reminded me of a smoky breeze, light and fun but slightly husky. One phone call and every inch of her was coming back to me in full fucking Technicolor. "Yeah?" "Call me by my nickname once. It's been a long time." Her simple request reminded me of everything, the terrible sense of loss, the unbearable heartbreak. All of it settled on my chest like a bag of cement. My throat was tight as I uttered the
words. "I miss you, Rebel." "I miss you too." Silence. I pulled the phone from my ear. She'd hung up. I dialed her back, but no answer. "Shit." I put the phone on the nightstand. The bathroom door swung open. Tory swept past me to collect her clothes off the floor. After my highly anticipated future as a rock and roll legend crashed into an epic fail, I'd moved back to my hometown, Camden Beach. My dad had left my older brother and me the house. As ugly and falling apart as it was, it was paid for. And it sure as hell beat living in my car and using a guitar case as a pillow. Dylan Parson, Rebecca's stepbrother, was four years older than me, but we had always gotten along. We pooled the little money we had and opened a sports bar together. Tory worked behind the bar, which meant I'd stupidly broken the golden rule of not dating a workmate. And as things between us soured, I was really starting to understand that rule. "Who is Rebecca?" Tory asked casually, but her nose was twitching in irritation. I leaned back on my elbows and watched her get dressed. "She's Dylan's stepsister." Tory shimmied into her tight jeans. "Oh, her." It sounded like she was biting on a bitter lemon as she said the words.
"You've only been in town a year. You don't know her." "Nope, I don't. But I know of her. Helena said that when Dylan's stepsister used to walk into a party or a dance, every girl had to grab protective hold of their boyfriends just to keep them safe." I stood up and snatched my jeans off the floor. "If that's true, then the blame should be on their boyfriends because Rebecca never gave a shit about any of them." I wanted off this topic fast. "I'm going to take a shower. Lock up when you leave." "Josh?" Tory stopped in the center of the room and waited for me to turn back around. Which I did, reluctantly. The last few seconds of conversation had created just a little more divide between us. Tory tucked her short black hair behind her ears, and her upper lip straightened out of its usual bow shape. "Nathan, that financial advisor guy in the sharp suit who comes in every Friday night—he asked if I was in a steady relationship. He wants to start dating." I should have had a reaction to her words, but there was nothing. And she caught my lack of emotion just fine. Her chin twitched back and forth, a mixture of nerves and anger. "What'd you tell him?" She blinked her big brown eyes at me for a long
moment, apparently hoping I would step in and say the right thing. But I had nothing. "I told him I didn't fucking know because I was with someone who didn't know his head from his ass when it came to relationships." The first sign of tears glassed her big eyes. "I think you should date him." "Is this because of that phone call? So, everything Helena said about Dylan's sister is true. You broke Emily's heart and all because of her stepsister. It seems Helena wasn't exaggerating after all when she said girls in high school had to hang on to their guys when Rebecca came into the room." I'd hurt her and I deserved the assault, but I wasn't going to discuss the past with her. "Tory, you knew going into this that I wasn't into commitment. Date the fancy suit. You deserve better than me." A harsh laugh shot from her mouth as she grabbed her shoes in her hand. "That's just fucking perfect. And you know what? I do deserve better." She swept out of the room. The front door slammed so hard my car keys fell off the nightstand. I walked over and picked them up. I held them on my palm and stared down at the green and pink lanyard that had been hooked to my keys since the day Rebecca had given it to me. I picked up the phone and dialed Dylan. He answered up after two rings. "What? I'm just getting into the shower."
"Well, you were right. You warned me to keep my dick out of the pretty bartender." "Shit. So now Tory will probably put an extra shot in everyone's drink and our profits will drop. And all because you couldn't keep your prick to yourself." "Look who's talking. Anyhow, that's not the real reason I called." I rubbed my finger over the tightly woven plastic of the lanyard. Her long fingers had touched every strand. "Rebecca called." I hadn't expected the long pause on his end. Rebecca's father had divorced Dylan's mother and he moved to Europe for business. Rebecca had gone with him, but last I'd heard, she moved back to the states. I was sure she'd kept in some contact with Dylan's mother, but I never asked much about her. I never wanted to hear that she had a steady boyfriend or worse—had gotten married. I couldn't fucking bear to hear it. "Huh, she did? Is she all right?" His tone had dried up almost as if he was just talking indifferently about some acquaintance. "She heard about Vandermeer getting out of jail. She seemed pretty upset about it." A dry laugh shot through the phone. "You know Becca. Always dramatic. Some things never change. Hey, start the inventory when you get in. I've got to drive over to Hartford and pick up that new craft beer. See you in a bit." He hung up.
I stared at the phone, confused by his reaction. Or non-reaction.
CHAPTER 2
JOSHUA
Nine years earlier
I
leaned against my car and waited for Emily. I hated hanging with her friends just like she hated hanging with mine, but I'd promised to go with her to her best friend Mindy's party. The new cheer squad had been announced, and Emily made head cheerleader. So I knew there was going to be a lot of screaming and hugging and crying. There would probably be a lot of short sundresses too . . . so . . . there was that. Still, it seemed like a good waste of a perfectly sunny August day. But then Emily had sat through three long hours of band practice in Mike's hot garage the day before. Emily and I had so little in common, sometimes it seemed like we were still
together just because everyone expected us to be. We'd been dating since freshman year. It started on our first day of high school. She came back from summer with a tan that made her blue eyes look like gems and a newly developed chest that turned every head in the hallway. Including mine. We ended up eating lunch at the same table, and the rest was, as they say, history. For some reason our classmates had dubbed us the it couple, the couple everyone wanted to be. Emily was popular and top of the class in academics. I was the self-purported bad ass with an attitude, a bass guitar and a band. For a long time, the odd couple thing had worked for us, but lately, it felt as if we were from two different worlds and meeting in the middle was getting harder and harder. The front door opened and Emily's stepsister, Rebecca, strolled out on her long tanned legs and bare feet. Rebecca's dad had been married to Emily's mom for four years, and it seemed the two families had managed to merge together without a problem. Rebecca had no siblings and Emily's brother, Dylan, who was four years older than us, was in and out of the house depending on whatever job he could find. Rebecca thought the Sun revolved around her stepsister, Emily. "Hey, Rebel, Rebel, what's up?" "Emily is still working on her hair." A few long strides took Rebecca across the front lawn to my
car, where she quickly planted herself on the hood and crossed her legs. "She's getting all fancied up, so she might not be happy that you're wearing that Iron Maiden t-shirt. Maybe you should just give it to me, and I'll find you one of my dad's shirts to wear." "Nice try. You've been vying for this t-shirt for a year, so I'm on to your little scam." "Butthead." "You love this shirt as much as Emily hates it. Anyhow, aren't you supposed to be listening to those boy bands where they all sing really high and wear puffy hairstyles?" "Uh, I'm pretty sure there is no written law that says after your fourteenth birthday you are required to go gaga over boy bands. I prefer rock and roll." "Since when?" Rebecca lifted her leg and nudged my side with her toe. "Ever since my future brother-in-law decided he was going to be a heavyweight rock star." "Future brother-in-law, that's a good one. Let me first pass senior year before you start marrying me off." "So how is it going with the Domino Dogs?" Rebecca was on a short list of one for people who took an interest in my band. "How did you come up with that name, anyhow?" "Well, it was all really scientific. We had a great
deal of debate about name choice. Then one day, during practice, Everett pulled out his phone to show us this viral video of some dude building this long ass, complicated array of dominoes. And before he got to the end, so that he could push that first domino and see them all fall, his dog walked by and knocked the thing down with one tail wag. The name fell right into place." Rebecca reached down and tugged at the sleeve on my shirt. She had a tendency to touch me a lot while we were talking, but it never annoyed me. "You should have shirts made for the band. There could be a picture of a dog pushing down a domino for a logo. That'd be cool. Not very rock and rollish though, I suppose." I stared up at her. "Great, now I'm rethinking the whole name thing.” "No, the name is cool. I like it." Rebecca leaned back and rested on her hands, turning her face up to the sun. She had begged her parents to let her change her hair color to something funky with the promise that she'd go back to her natural candy caramel color by fall. Today she was sporting a lot of lavender stripes. "Do I look like one of those hot models sitting on the cool car at the car show?" I laughed. "Uh, yeah sure. Except for the hot model part." I was always teasing her. For the past few years, I'd taken plenty of time to make fun of her bean pole figure and tangle of legs and arms.
But I had to admit, lately she was growing into all her parts. It seemed it wouldn't be long before all the boys in the neighborhood would be riding past on their BMX bikes and skateboards just to get a glimpse of their crush. Rebecca blew a raspberry from her lips as she lowered her face. The sun had instantly colored her cheeks. "And the cool car. And if we were to get technical, the car show too." She patted the faded green hood of my dented Subaru. "Oh! I almost forgot that I made you something." She reached in to her back pocket and pulled out a green and pink lanyard. "As you can see I was bored out of my mind today. And I knew if I didn't look busy, then my stepmom would make me help her dust the bookshelves or polish the living room chairs or some other horrid, mind-numbing task. So instead, I came up with my own mind-numbing way to spend the morning. And I made it to match your car. Except for the pink. I just thought it looked good with the green. There's a hook so you can put it on your keychain." Rebecca crossed her arms to let me know she was waiting for me to put the lanyard on my keys. "Right. I am going to add it right now." "Don't ever take it off. I'll be checking your keys from time to time, and I'll be expecting to see it." I worked the hook around the key ring and held
it up for her to see. "There it is and there it will stay. Even after I buy that black Ferrari with the money from my first concert tour." "I love your optimism, Joshua Hardy. And I'm counting on you making it to the big time because then I can tell everyone I know a rock and roll mega star." "So, two things. I have to keep this on my keys at all times, and I have to become a mega rock musician." "Right." She leaned back again. Her long legs kicked back and forth. "Why are you so much easier to talk to than other guys? Boys my age are like drooling idiots. Emily says it's because you are much more mature than other guys." "Is that what she says?" "Yep. And trust me, that's high praise from Em. Of course, you know her just about as well as I do. Even better, since you guys make out." Her cheeks blushed, but this time it wasn't from the sun. "Ooh gross, I can't believe I just said that." She waved her hands in front of her face. "I'm erasing those last disgusting words. Do you believe in the boogeyman?" she asked with an abrupt and welcome topic change. "You mean the guy who hides in your closet or under the bed when you're a kid? Do I believe in him? Can't say I ever found any monster in my closet." I leaned against the car and looked up at
her green eyes that were surrounded by a curtain of black lashes. Suddenly, it occurred to me that she wasn't just going to be pretty, she was going to be stunning. But talking to Rebecca, she was still just an innocent kid, which was probably why it was so much fun to talk to her. She was always happy and funny and totally off the wall. And she was one of the few people who was always excited and enthusiastic about my music career. "I guess we all have our form of boogeyman, Rebel." She stopped swinging her legs, and some of the sparkle faded from her eyes. "What do you mean?" "Just that everybody has something they're afraid of. Your sister Emily freaks out about clowns, so I guess guys in white makeup wearing red noses are her boogeyman." She crossed her arms. "What are you afraid of?" Something had darkened her mood, but I couldn’t figure out what. "I guess I'm afraid of losing my dad. His liver isn't working on all cylinders anymore, but he hasn't cut down on the whiskey." "I'm sorry to hear that, Josh." I nodded, no longer able to respond. That was another thing about Rebecca. She was always genuine. She took a deep breath. "Well, my boogeyman is different." The front door opened and shut, and Emily
stepped out onto the porch. I looked back up at Rebecca. "Why is that? No clown makeup?" She shrugged her thin shoulders. Her bottom lip trembled so slightly, I was almost convinced I'd imagined it. I turned to face her. "Rebecca?" "He's just extra scary, that's all." She pushed her smile back up and spoke airily to Emily. "That red and white striped dress makes you look like a candy cane." Emily stopped and tilted her head to let her know she didn't appreciate the fashion critique. I took Emily's hand and pulled her closer. "She's right." I leaned my mouth close to her ear. "You look lickable." Emily pushed me back. "Jeesh, your mind always goes straight to dirty." She made a point of looking at my shirt. "Speaking of dirty. Why the heck are you wearing that crummy old t-shirt?" Rebecca's foot swung like a pendulum over the car door as she nudged me with her foot for a silent 'told you so'. "And I thought you were going to finally cut your hair," Emily continued. "It's getting longer than mine." "He can't cut it, Em. He's a musician. Long hair goes with the bass guitar. Besides, I think it's cool." I tilted a sideways wink up at her. "Yeah, Rebel thinks it's cool."
Emily crossed her arms and worked hard to look angry, but she was just too darn cute to look mad. "This party is a big deal. And Mindy is already mad at me for beating her out as head cheerleader. She'll be extra mad if you show up in a faded t-shirt." I pointed over my shoulder. "I could go back home and finish my video game, and you could go to the party without me." "Oh sure, you'd like that wouldn't you?" "Uh, yeah, I think that's what he just said," Rebecca piped up. Emily's scorn shifted to her sister. "Don't you have some place to be, Becca?" "I guess I'll be on my way." Rebecca hopped off the car. A loud whistle shot up from the street. Two boys on skateboards stopped in front of the house. "Hey, Becca, want to come hang out at the park?" "I guess." Rebecca leaned toward me as she walked past. "Stay strong, buddy. Don't let your guard down around the cheerleader zombies. They will eat you up and spit you out like a cheer. Pom poms waving and all." "I'll stay alert." We bumped fists. I watched as Rebecca walked to the curb to meet her two friends. One looked like a decent guy, the kind of guy who would lend you a buck for lunch if you forgot your money. The other guy
looked like the kind who spent third period out behind the gym smoking a joint or making out with a girl. The guys held their boards under their arms and the three of them headed down the sidewalk toward the park. Rebecca was a good two inches taller than both of them. "Do you know that guy with the chain on his pocket?" I asked Emily. "He looks kind of sketchy." "That's Zach. I think Becca likes him." We walked around to the passenger side, so I could open the door for her. "That guy? Shit." Emily laughed as she sat in the car. "She said she kind of likes Zach because he's a lot like you." She grinned up at me as I closed the passenger door.
CHAPTER 3
REBECCA
I
n the solitude of my office cubicle, I swished around on Google to find anything of value on Vandermeer. The article that talked about his early release was written in yesterday's local paper, the free one that had been jammed into the mail slot on the office door. I had no idea why my first instinct was to call Joshua, but just hearing his voice seemed to calm me down some. I knew that if I heard him call me by the nickname he had created just for me, it would bring me back to earth and help me avoid a total meltdown. And while the deep, soothing sound of Joshua's voice had been just the elixir I needed, I hadn't stopped thinking about him all morning. Not that I'd ever really stopped thinking about him. Joshua Hardy was entwined around every important moment in my life, both the good
and the horribly, terribly bad. I had plenty of work to do, and the boss was a Cruella Deville doppelganger without the cool twotoned hair. But I was determined to find something about Vandermeer that might come in handy. I didn't even know what handy meant in this situation, but I figured I'd know it when I saw it. I clicked through several other articles about someone else with the same last name, only to find they were talking about Trent senior. There was a senior. That meant there were two Trent Vandermeers in the world. Apparently Dad Vandermeer was a big shot in life insurance policies. How appropriate. A shadow dropped over my desk and keyboard. The strong scent of aftershave drifted over my monitor. I didn't look up from my task. "Dustin, you know I hate it when you stare at me over the cubicle partition." "All right, I won't stare long. I just thought maybe you'd want to go out and get a few drinks after work." I leaned back on my chair and looked up at him. Dustin had that kind of baby face that some women found attractive. He was a nice enough guy but just a little too needy for my taste. "When have I ever said yes to that?" "Never." He took off his glasses, something he
usually did before he spoke to me. Although I found him much more attractive with them on. "But I think I deserve points for persistence." "You do." I leaned forward and rested my hands in front of my keyboard. "Look, Dustin, you're a great guy, but I'm not interested in dating anyone right now. I just got out of a less than stellar relationship, and—" The flimsy cubicle walls shook when Dustin lifted his hand above it to point at me. "Jack was wrong for you in every way. And if I ever get my hands on him, I will give it to him good." I couldn't hold back a smile. Jack was a good five inches taller and twice the width of Dustin, but something told me he would make good on his word. "Thank you, Dustin. You're a good friend. But Jack won't be showing up any time soon. He moved to Michigan for a new job. Thank goodness." If there was one thing that was consistent in my otherwise helter-skelter life, it was my ability to pick the absolute worst men. And here I was again, warding off invitations from Dustin, a guy who would probably shower me with gifts, overwhelm me with flowers and always treat me like a princess. But in this case, I was absolutely wrong for him. He needed someone deserving of his faithful admiration and that sure as heck wasn't me. "Uh oh, here comes the She-dragon." Dustin sat
back down in his chair. Again, the wall shook and the postcard my dad sent from Venice escaped its pushpin and floated down to my desk. I clicked out of the non-work related articles and clicked open the data files. Seconds later, the fire breather was standing over me, heating up the small space. "Rebecca, I need you to make some of those bar graphs and charts for this week's numbers." I turned and looked at the files clutched in her blood red fingernails. All she needed was the coat made out of Dalmatian fur. Dustin always warned me never to look Irene directly in the eye or risk death by turning to stone. His comment came back to me, and I bit my cheek to keep from laughing. She really was a horrid boss to work for, but the job kept me from living in a cardboard box on the street. Not that my apartment was much better than a refrigerator carton, but at least it had running water. I took the files from her hand. "When do you need these by?" Her laugh even made the plant on my desk shiver with revulsion. "The meeting is in one hour, and make them look pretty. Oh, and I'll need twenty copies, collated and placed in some of those plastic sleeves we have in the supply closet. Don't mess up. I want to impress the board members." Her heels clacked over the tile. She glanced into Dustin's cubicle and then continued down the
hallway to her office. "So she'll go in there with my charts and pretend she made them. She is such a creep." Dustin's chair squeaked as he rolled out of his cubicle and looked around the wall at me. "Did you avoid eye contact? Wait. I see you are not a pillar of stone, so you obeyed my warning." The rattling but welcome wheels of the muffin cart sounded behind me. I leaned my head out to make sure Kate was coming up our aisle first. Otherwise the banana nut muffins would be gone. They were by far her best. Kate's eyes shot toward us, or I should say shot toward Dustin. Kate had made no small attempt to let Dustin know she had a thing for him, but the poor guy was just completely clueless when it came to women. Kate had those kind of clear blue eyes that looked like the blue on a magnificent stained glass window. And they sparkled whenever she pushed her wobbly cart toward Dustin. "Morning," she said with a special smile for Dustin. He was too absorbed in his muffin decision to notice. I reached for a banana nut muffin and handed Kate my money. "Hmm." Dustin tapped his chin. "I love the bran raisin but then I have problems all afternoon. If you get catch my drift." Kate laughed politely. He didn't have to work
too hard to get a positive reaction from her. I shook my head thinking the poor guy needed some kind of cool bro type mentor just to give him a little more edge in the world of flirtation. Kate took longer than needed to count back his change. In the meantime, we were garnering some pretty nasty glares from the cubicles across the way. Kate wrapped her hands around the cart handle. "Well, I guess I better head over to the other side before I start an office war." Dustin didn't have the courtesy to return a laugh, even though her comment was far funnier. He really was a dolt. Kate moved on with her baked goods. And just before Dustin slipped back into his cubicle, I landed a fist punch on his arm. "Ouch. What the heck was that for? You got your damn banana nut muffin." I used my feet to pull my chair closer to him. "Kate is crazy about you. Why don't you ask her out?" "Kate?" His nose moved side to side, shifting his glasses with it as he glanced over at her. "Nah, she's not my type." "You mean cute, productive, a good baker and charming? You're right. What was I thinking?" I slid back into my office space. Dustin hung his head around. "You really think
she likes me?" "As someone experienced at having a long, unrequited crush on someone, yes, I'd say absolutely yes." I'd used the wrong analogy it seemed, and suddenly, his interest switched away from Kate and over to my crush. "You, Rebecca Novak had an unrequited crush on someone? Rebecca Novak, the woman who makes men from other offices run in their expensive loafers just to share an elevator ride. The woman who had to work in the cluttered copy room because the air conditioner service men couldn't concentrate on their job with her sitting at her desk. The woman who nearly caused a window washer to plunge to his death just by walking past the damn window." I pointed at him. "Total exaggeration. That did not happen. He merely slipped, and it just happened to coincide with me walking to the office supply closet." "Right. So spill. Who is it? Wait. Is it me?" He closed his eyes and lifted his face in a silent prayer. "It's not you and it doesn't matter. I was just using it as a way to prove to you that Kate likes you. Now don't be an idiot, and ask her out." I rolled back to my desk and tucked my muffin aside for break. I stared down at the manila folder with Irene's angry looking handwriting scratched across a sticky note.
I pushed it aside and typed in a few more keywords with the name Trent Vandermeer. The top entry was about the opening of a new bar and grill. I clicked on it, and there staring back at me from a small, semi-blurry picture was the supreme asshole himself. He was smiling and pointing up to a sign above his head that read Vander's Place. Not only was he out of jail, he was having a good old successful time of it. There was nothing right about that. Nothing. I scrolled down farther. The grand opening was a week away, and they were still looking for servers. "Apply in person Tuesday and Thursday afternoon from three to six." I grabbed my notepad and wrote down the address and information. I had some experience waiting tables in a sports bar. Irene's nasal tone sounded down the hallway as she berated her assistant about some nonsense. I pulled the notepaper off and shoved it into my purse. Tomorrow was Thursday. I would go to the interview and try to get hired. I had no idea where I would go from there, but there was just no way a jerk like Trent Vandermeer got to trot around town looking happy and starting up damn businesses. First step was to land the job. The rest of the scheme to ruin the man would eventually fall into place . . . hopefully.
CHAPTER 4
JOSHUA
I
pushed the dolly filled with boxes of wine in through the back door. I had to stop half way to shake out the usual pain and stiffness in my right hand. I rubbed the knuckles, feeling the ridges of scars left behind by the pins doctors had used to put my fingers back into some form or order. Dylan was having a conversation with someone, working hard to be charming. The answer was a frilly giggle. We weren't open for hours, so he must have brought his latest fling to work. I had no idea who he was seeing at the moment because he moved on quickly from one girl to the next. Sometimes I never even got a chance to learn their names. Dylan was proof that some people managed to drag their high school glory days right on through
life. Dylan was a senior the year I started high school. He was the proverbial big man on campus, both in size and popularity stature. He was the guy who could silence every female conversation just by walking past. And the guys' heads turned just as much. Everyone wanted to see what Dylan Parson was up to, what he was wearing, what lucky girl was on his arm. And as much as I hated to admit it, back then I looked up to him too, as if he had glowing stars circling around his thick skull. He also did a pretty good job of being just a big enough asshole to solidify his top senior man status. Apparently, you had to be somewhat of a jackass to pull it off just right. The only reason he'd paid a freshman like me any attention at all was because I was dating his sister. Otherwise, I would have faded into non-existence just like all his other worshippers. Oddly enough, we grew into good friends. I rolled the dolly to the wine storage rack and started pushing the bottles into their slots. "Dylan wants the receipt for the wine." I spun around quickly. Penny, our newest server, was standing behind me wearing her teenage smile and a skimpy pair of jean cut-offs. I'd fought against hiring her because I thought she was just too young and inexperienced, but Dylan wouldn't let it go. For a second, the sweet innocence of Penny's wide eyes reminded me of a sixteen-year-
old Rebecca. I still hadn't gotten her out of my mind since the phone call. "Right." I pulled the receipt from my pocket and handed it to her. "I didn't expect to see you in here so early." She tilted her head enough to swish her long blonde ponytail sideways. "Dylan said he needed the help with inventory, and I was glad to get a few extra hours. I'm saving for a car." She lifted the receipt. "Thanks. I'll walk this over to Dylan." Inventory, my ass. It was Wednesday, which meant only a light load of stock to put away. I turned back to my task. I dragged a razor blade across the tape on the next box and plucked out two bottles. "Hey, bro," Dylan said from behind. "Penny and I are hungry. We're going to pick up some sandwiches. What do you want?" I shoved the wine into its slot on the rack and turned around. "Why the hell did you need help with inventory?" Dylan's gaze shot across the room to make sure Penny wasn't around. "The kid needed the hours, so I told her she could come help me." Dylan's hair had been thinning some, and he'd taken to shaving it close to his head to camouflage the baldness. The close shaved dark blond hair paired with his deep set eyes made him look mean. But that didn't seem to stop the women from latching onto him.
I stepped closer, also not wanting Penny to hear what I needed to say. "She's sixteen." "Yeah? And?" "Just reminding you that she's not an adult, and you are well into adulthood. So even though she looks twenty-one in those short shorts, she's not." "There's no law against looking." "Well, maybe there should be." "Wow, Mr. High and Mighty walked in this morning with a large metal rod jammed up his ass. What's the matter? No sex now that Tory and you are done?" "Never fucking mind." I turned back to the wine rack. "As I recall, you never had a problem with looking when Rebecca was sixteen and wearing short shorts." I twisted back around with a wine bottle clutched tightly in my hand. "That was a little different." "How's that?" "Because when she was sixteen, I was eighteen." "And you were engaged to Emily." "We were never engaged and you know that." The wine sloshed in the bottle as I moved my arms in anger. What I wanted to do was crown him with the fucking thing. We were close enough friends that we could say pretty much anything to each
other. While things sometimes got heated, we both usually cooled off fast. But there was no damn reason for him to start in on the past. "Why the hell are your bringing up Emily and Rebecca? Or are you just grabbing at any piece of defense you can find?" "Guess I was just thinking about Becca because you said she called. Besides, I'm just trying to prove a point." I stared at him and gave a sharp shrug of my shoulders. "What point?" "That you look too, so don't be such a fucking prick about it. You're no saint." "Never said I was. But that has nothing to do with you and your cock checking out a sixteenyear-old. Just get the fuck out of here and get lunch before I throw this damn bottle across the room." "Yep, I'm out of here. And you should find yourself some new pussy soon because you're an uptight asshole when you're not getting any." "You worry about your own cock and keep your mind off of mine. Dick." "Penny, let's go." Dylan grabbed his keys off the hook on the wall so hard, the hook broke free from the wood. He kicked the hook across the cement floor of the storage room. I unpacked the wine as I listened to them walk out the back door. There was no way Penny didn't hear us, but I wasn't going to worry about it. But
the fight had brought me back to thinking about Rebecca. It had been three days since she called. I'd left her two messages, but she never called back. I just hoped she wasn't getting herself into trouble. Something she used to be really good at.
CHAPTER 5
JOSHUA
Seven years earlier
S
he'd turned sixteen but that didn't stop Rebecca from putting on a glittery plastic crown and long strands of dress-up pearls to open her presents. After spending a day at the beach with her friends, she insisted she only wanted her family at her birthday dinner. I was included in that circle. Emily had decorated the dining room with gold and pink balloons, Rebecca's favorite colors, and she'd hand painted a sweet sixteen birthday sign. Carl, Rebecca's dad, had set up a camera tripod to take pictures. Emily's mom, Michelle, had baked Rebecca's favorite brown sugar molasses cake. It was topped with gold and pink candles.
There was no denying that Rebecca liked being the center of attention. She sat on the dining room chair with her lopsided plastic crown and suntanned shoulders and legs jutting out from a pale pink sundress. She ripped through her packages of colored pencils, makeup and clothes, shrieking with delight at each gift. The back door opened and shut as she pulled the paper off some music CDs. Dylan had been out of town for several weeks, supposedly working at a construction site, only he looked too pale and too rested for that. He had to duck to keep from hitting his head on the doorway. "Dylan, honey, you made it." Michelle hopped up from her chair and gave him a hug. "So glad you could make time in your busy schedule," Emily teased. She reached over and took hold of my hand. "Hey, birthday girl." Dylan leaned down to give Rebecca a kiss on the cheek. She lifted the side of her face but couldn't pull her attention away from her presents long enough to say hello or look at him, even after he set his gift, a small silver wrapped box, down in front of her. "Sixteen going on ten," Emily whispered my direction. I smiled thinking how wrong that assessment seemed. Sometimes Rebecca's wildness and lack of inhibition made her seem young, but when we talked seriously about things, like about friendships
or losing her mom or gaining a whole new family, she was mature and full of intuition and insight. And the fact that she no longer looked like a little girl, at all, not even in a plastic crown and fake pearls, made that assessment seem even more wrong. Carl had complained to me that the boys were constantly circling the house like sharks around prey, and he was plenty upset about it too. I advised him against the shotgun, reminding him it would only land him in jail and he wouldn't be able to keep an eye on her from his cell. I had jammed my present for Rebecca next to me on the chair. The rest of the presents were wrapped with crisp, shiny wrapping paper and bows. All we had in the closet at home was some faded Christmas wrapping paper that must have been at least twelve years old since that was how long it had been since my mom moved out. I decided to use some of the pages from the last issue of Rolling Stone that were strewn out over the floor in my room. It went well with my gift theme. Rebecca was down to just Dylan's gift. She picked up the slim box. Emily sat forward with profound interest. "Ooh, looks like jewelry." She winked my direction. "You know how I love those tiny gift boxes with glittery things inside." The silver paper fell away revealing a black velvet box.
"Hey," Emily protested before the box was even opened. "You never give me jewelry, you jerk." Rebecca opened the box. Dylan waited for Rebecca's reaction, which was, for lack of a better word, subdued, especially compared to the song and dance routine she'd done when she got the flat iron she'd been wanting 'since forever'. "Thank you, Dylan, but you shouldn't have. It's too expensive, and I might lose it." "Let's see, Rebecca," Michelle said. Rebecca turned the box around. Emily nearly upended her chair as she raced over to get a look at the glittery gold bracelet. Michelle and Emily spent the next few minutes gushing over the bracelet. Emily even tried it on as Rebecca looked on with little interest. I decided with everyone's attention diverted, I could slip Rebecca my much less stellar present. "Didn't have any wrapping paper, or box, or ribbon for that matter. Just a lot of tape." I handed her the gift. Rebecca held her crown in place as she smiled up at me. "Rolling Stone magazine? Awesome wrapping paper." Much to my dismay, everyone's attention had turned back to Rebecca with the tearing of paper. Emily stood behind me to look past my shoulder. She wrapped her hands around my arm as
she pressed against me. Rebecca shrieked as she held up the Iron Maiden t-shirt. Emily tensed up behind me. Her hands fell away from my arm. Rebecca jumped to her feet and held the t-shirt against her. "It's finally mine. The coveted t-shirt is mine." She screamed and hugged me. "I'm putting it on right now." She raced off to her room and left behind an awkward silence. Michelle finally broke the quiet with a dry laugh. "That's Becca. Leaves the gold bracelet in the box and races off to pull on an old t-shirt. But still, it was sweet of you, Josh. I know how much she liked that shirt, and I know it was probably hard for you to give up." "It was getting kind of small on me." I decided to break the tension in the room with some comedy. I lifted my arm and did a curl. "These darn muscles are always getting in the way." Dylan's laugh was completely devoid of amusement. "Yeah, I'll bet. Any beer, Mom?" "Yes, in the refrigerator." Dylan walked out of the room. Carl busied himself with the camera, and Michelle began collecting the wrapping paper. Which left Emily and me. Her mood had definitely darkened. "I must have sent you a dozen links for things I knew Rebecca would like, and you wrap up that tattered old shirt."
I turned to her. "I thought you'd be happy. Now you won't see me wearing it anymore. Why are you so upset? I'll buy her something else from one of the links if it'll make you happy." The curls at the end of her hair bounced as she shook her head. "No, that's not the point." "Then what is the point? I'm sorry if you didn't like my gift. But I was thinking of Rebecca, not you, when I came up with the idea." "Right," she huffed. "Whatever. Mindy still wants us to come over later. They are going to set up a projector in her backyard so we can watch movies. It's our last get together before we split off for college." "I don't think so. My dad was really down tonight. I'm going to head home early." I caught the slightest eye roll. Emily had little sympathy for my dad because he tended to drown all his sorrows in booze, and she thought that made him weak. I just thought it made him seem extra worthy of empathy and support. Michelle returned from the kitchen to gather up the dishes. "I'll help in just a second, Mom. I'm just walking Josh out." Michelle was always tuned into things. I was sure she knew that Emily and I were having a tense moment . . . again. But she plastered on a mom smile. "Oh, are you leaving so soon, Josh?"
"Yes, my dad's not feeling well. Thanks again. The dinner and cake were delicious." "You're welcome, sweetie, and say hello to your dad." Emily took my hand and led me to the front room where we were out of earshot of mom and dad ears. "What?" I asked point blank. "What has you in such a fit, Em? It can't just be the damn t-shirt." Her lashes fluttered to dry up pending tears. I had a tough time of it when she cried. She was good at it and she knew exactly when to bring on the glassy gaze and tiny sniffles. But I just didn't deserve a cry scene tonight. She sniffled. "I could have gotten into any college, but I chose the local university so I could still see you. And now you're planning some cross country road trip with the band. And you don't even have shows lined up in most of those states." "I told you we're going to line things up as we go. It's a way to get our name out there." I should have stopped there, but lately, I didn't seem to know how to keep shit to myself when it came to our relationship. "And I didn't tell you to stay in town for college." Yep, wanted to suck the words right back in, but the ship had sailed. Emily's lashes fluttered faster. I reached for her hand, but she pulled it brusquely away. "Em, I didn't mean that."
"Sure you did. Whatever. Good night then." She turned on her heels and walked back into the dining room to help her mom. I took it as my cue to leave. The evening had started out all right, but then it crashed and burned big time. I headed out onto the porch. The sun had just set, and the summer bugs were getting their last few minutes of freedom before the bats came out from hiding. I waved my hand in front of my face to scare away the gnats and headed down the steps. The front door opened and shut behind me. "Wait, Josh. Are you leaving already?" Rebecca's face was pure disappointment. "Sorry, Rebel, my dad's not feeling great." The disappointment turned to concern, and as always, it was genuine. You never got fake or bullshit with Rebecca. She wore every emotion right out there for the world to see. It was one of the things I admired most about her. I wasn't sure if she'd lose that quality as she got older. I hoped not. She walked onto the top step. "That's too bad. I know how down he gets. He really is a true romantic, still pining for the one woman he ever loved, even after all these years." "And even after she left him with credit card debt, two sons and a broken heart." Rebecca knew that I had no real love for my mom. It was hard to work up affection for the woman who'd so easily left behind her family to marry a man with more
money and better future prospects. Rebecca's parents had divorced when she was young too, but it was a shared decision. They both knew they'd married the wrong person. Unfortunately for my dad, that thought still hadn't occurred to him. He was still convinced my mom was the only person worthy of his love. Rebecca deftly changed the subject to the tshirt. She smoothed her hands down along the cool phantom graphic on the front of the shirt, and I worked hard not to notice her palms smooth over her breasts and the concave hollow of her stomach. The colors on the shirt had faded, but the picture was still bold enough to see every detail. "It looks better on you," I noted. "I'm glad it has a new owner who will take good care of it." She lifted her face to mine, and we looked at each other a few seconds longer than necessary before I pulled my gaze away. With no other place to look, I glanced into the front window. Carl was concentrating on his task of taking the camera off the tripod. "Your dad loves this camera thing, doesn't he?" Rebecca glanced back toward the window. "It's his newest hobby. I'm glad he's so happy here with Michelle. He really needed this. I would never want to do anything to mess it up." I smiled. "What could you possibly do to mess things up? Be too damn adorable? Too smart? Too
full of bubbly energy?" Stupidly, I went on with my list and didn't notice that her smile had faded away, along with the usual green glitter in her eyes. "Rebel? Are you all right?" "Huh? Yeah. I'm good," she said, sounding the complete opposite of good. I opened my mouth to continue prodding, but her attention was snatched away by a loud, obnoxious car horn. Tyler Franks lived next door to me. He had just turned sixteen and had managed to buy himself the loudest, smokiest old Mustang in existence. It was a convertible, only the soft top was long gone. Two of his usual goober friends were sitting in the car with him. Tyler made a show of tossing an empty beer can into the backseat. "Hey, Becca, we're going to drive up to Lookout Point. Why don't you come along?" "Sounds fun." I turned back to her. "You're not getting in that car. Every time I see that guy, there's a new dent in that jalopy. There is a long winding road up to the Point." "It's my birthday. And you're leaving. And I think Em is heading out with her friends." She turned toward the house and yelled through the window. "Dad, I'm leaving with Tyler. Be back soon." Her dad didn't even look up from his camera. He just waved his hand in the window to let her
know he'd heard her. "Rebecca," I said sternly, and even knowing I sounded like a strict dad, I didn't give a shit. "You're not going." I turned around. "Drive on, Tyler. She's not going." "Stay right there, Tyler." Rebecca jutted her chin in the air. "I'm going." "No, you're not." "How do you intend to stop me?" "Just watch me." She stared at me as if we were playing a game of chicken. Then she brushed past me and ran toward the car. I raced after her and caught up to her just as she reached for the car door. I picked her up and threw her over my shoulder. I waved Tyler away. His tires screeched loudly as his car fishtailed around the corner. Rebecca pounded my back as I held her legs still to keep her from kicking me in the balls. I lowered her feet to the ground. She took the opportunity to pound my chest. "You jerk. Ugh. You're a butthead." I stood in front of her and let her finish pummeling me until she wore herself out. "I hate you." "And yet, I stand by my decision to stop you." She turned sharply on her heels and stomped back up the steps. But she stopped at the top to look back at me. "Thanks for the shirt . . . butthead.
It's my favorite gift." "You're welcome." The evening replayed in my head as I walked up the cement path to my house. The television light flickered out over the yard, but the sound was muffled by my dad's loud snores. I tried to sneak in without waking him. But even as drunk as he no doubt was, he heard me shut the door. He startled out of his deep sleep and knocked the book he'd been holding off his lap. It took him some effort to straighten his reading glasses over his eyes. "Joshua, you're home. Must have dozed off. Guess my book is more of a bore than a thriller." I leaned down and picked up the book. The empty whiskey bottle was turned on its side next to his easy chair, bone dry. The yellowish cast in his skin grew more noticeable each day, but he shrugged it off as too much work and not enough time in the fresh air. As I lifted the book to his lap, a picture fluttered out. I recognized it by the missing corner and the fold on one side. It was one of my mom standing next to the sold sign in front of the house. She was wearing white shorts and a blue shirt, and her thick brown hair was pulled back by a white hair band. My dad had touched the photo so often he had nearly worn her face away with his thumb. A short, slightly embarrassed laugh vibrated his
belly beneath his undershirt. "I forgot I stuck that thing in between the pages. Just using it as a bookmark," he said quickly. "Dad, it's all right. I know you carry that picture around. I just wish you could take her off that pedestal." "I know. I'm an old fool." It was the same conversation we'd had a million times. I didn't know why I bothered to say it. He always had the same answer. He scooted up in his easy chair and it shifted side to side, not so much from his weight but because the chair was slowly losing its ability to be easy . . . and a chair, for that matter. It needed badly to be thrown out, but I knew that would never happen. "By the way, Jeremy called. He and Katherine are having another baby." "Shit, never pictured Jeremy with a house full of kids. Good for him. Well, I'm going to bed, Dad. Good night." "How was the birthday party?" he asked before I could get away. "It was nice." "Can't believe Rebecca is already sixteen." He chortled. "You know, you'll laugh when I tell you this, but when you were younger, I always thought you were more suited to Rebecca than to Emily. Don't know why I thought that. I guess Rebecca is
just such a free spirit. Anyway, that's just me rambling on like a madman. Go to bed." I stood there and smiled down at him. My mom was a fool for giving him up. "Night, Dad."
CHAPTER 6
REBECCA
T
here were two women in front of me waiting to be interviewed. One couldn't stop checking her phone, and the other gnawed on a wad of gum as big as an egg. It seemed only women had been asked to come back for the in-person interview, which hadn't really been too shocking. Someone had hung up an extremely short mini skirt in the front of the bar with a sign that noted it would be a required part of the uniform. I could only assume that it was there to warn applicants off. If they weren't comfortable in a short skirt, they could just turn around and leave. It seemed the painters and decorators were just putting the final touches on the place. I could hear bottles and glasses clanking in the backroom as if the bar was about to be stocked. Apparently, I was
the last interview of the day. I wondered if there would even be an opening by the time I got inside the office door. I wondered even more if it was the asshole, himself, behind that door. Maybe Trent had partners or other lackeys to hire the employees. After torturing myself by reading more about the jerk, artfully avoiding any of the articles that would bring back the whole nightmare, I discovered that he had been born into old money, but the last few generations of Vandermeers had engaged in some questionable business and investment practices. Not too surprising. He looked extra sketchy in his picture with a pathetically fake hair piece and big diamond studs in his ears. A deep voice called out the name Heather, and the gum chewer scooted into the office on excessively high heels. She had pretty legs to go with the heels, which meant she'd probably be a shoe in for the job. I smiled at my mental pun. I was amazed at how relaxed I felt, considering that I was applying for a job I didn't want just so I could figure out how to ruin the place. Many diabolical plans had passed through my mind, some good, some a little far-fetched. I'd gone so far as to set out food on my kitchen floor at night hoping to draw cockroaches out from the floorboards. If I had a small army of the disgusting critters, I could slowly start releasing them in the bar. With the place just opening, the rumors of cockroaches would make
sure it never made it past its first month. Vandermeer would lose everything he'd put into the place. Unfortunately, I soon discovered that cockroaches were clever. They seemed to figure out my plot and had stayed far away from the food bait. "Oh, that's it," the woman with the phone obsession grunted. "Not worth it." She got up and stomped out of the bar. Which meant I was next. Seconds later, the office door opened, and the gum chewer skipped out with a wide smile. She had apparently spit out the wad. "I just snagged the last spot, honey, so too bad." "Darn." I stood up from the chair and turned to follow her out. This wasn't going to stop me though. I'd figure out something else. "Hold on there, princess," a voice said from behind. I turned around. He was even creepier in person. And worst of all, it was obvious he thought himself quite the man. His sneering smile made my stomach do that strange lurch that happened on a roller coaster. I had to work hard to not grimace when his gaze dropped to my feet and back up. "Thought you said I was the last hire," the gum chewer said. "See you tomorrow for training, Zoe." His tone let her know she needed to move on. Which she did.
"You've been waiting all this time. Besides, I'm rethinking one of my hires from this morning." "Thanks," I said it far too curtly and had to silently remind myself that I had to pretend not to hate the man. I was going to have to turn off the disgust and turn on the fake charm. It wouldn't be easy, just like it was nothing short of agony standing in the same space with him. I forced a pleasant smile as I walked past him into his office. Naturally, he was interviewing the women all by himself in a secluded office. Just like the mini skirt hanging in the front of the bar, warning off interviewees not to bother if they weren't willing to show some skin, his business practices were already completely wrong. He must have forgone the shower and just doused his stink with aftershave because his office was a mixture of body odor and spicy cologne. There was no place for me to sit but that didn't stop Trent from walking around to the chair behind his desk. He sat back, and again, took the time to look me up and down with his unsavory gaze. "What's your name?" "Rebecca." As I constructed a resume for the position, I'd considered changing the name, but I was sure that would raise red flags since it wouldn't match any of my personal data or my driver's license. I was sure he wouldn't recognize me or my name. There just wasn't any way he could connect
me because my last name, Novak, was from my dad. I dropped the resume on his desk. He scanned through it. "You're not working right now?" "I'm in between jobs." The one thing I had firmly decided not to do was list my current day job. I sure as heck didn't need Irene finding out that I was serving cocktails at night. I figured the hours would work out just fine. And I wasn't planning on working at the bar long because I was hoping the place would be shut down before Trent could even start making a profit. "You've only got a little experience serving drinks." He sat back and lifted his hands behind his head. "Why do you want to work here?" "It looks like a hip new place to work, and I need the money." His lip curled up. He was pleased with my answer. He lifted one hand from behind his head and stirred his finger around in the air. "Turn around so I can check you out from all angles." I bit my tongue to keep from letting him know that he was breaking every damn protocol in the book. And then it dawned on me—I wouldn't need to catch cockroaches or mice. This slime bag might just give me everything I needed to take him down. Although the cockroaches would probably be faster
and way less hassle. If I could only catch the suckers. This was it. I either landed this thing and started my plan, or I walked out in disgust and disappointment. I gritted my teeth in another fake smile and swung my hips as I turned around. I even swished my ass back and forth a few times before looking back at him over my shoulder. "This angle all right?" His beady eyes were glued to my ass. "Hell yeah. You can start training tomorrow at ten in the morning." I turned quickly around. "In the morning? But I thought it would be at night." "You've got other plans? Change them." "Right. No. I don't have other plans. I'll be here."
CHAPTER 7
JOSHUA
T
he bar was closed on Mondays. As much as I wanted to just flop on the couch all day and suck down cold beers while binge watching shows I'd missed, I'd started to remodel the kitchen weeks ago, which meant I was microwaving dinners in the laundry room. If I didn't finish the remodel soon, my diet of frozen pizza and burritos would kill me. The last few years of his life, my dad had really let the house go. My brother, Jeremy, and I inherited the house and a tiny savings account. My dad had worked his ass off all his life, right up until the end when his health made it too hard for him to do anything that took energy. But he had little to show for it. He never drove nice cars or bought man toys or big televisions. He just never made enough for those luxuries. But he kept Jeremy and
me sheltered, clothed and fed. And loved. He was better at that than making money. Jeremy was eight years older than me. He was off at college before I even reached puberty. The age difference was too big, and we were never close. He and his wife and four kids lived across the country. He told me I could do whatever I wanted with the house, including living in it. I told him I'd fix it up and once I sold it, I'd send him his cut. But fixing up an old house took a lot more money and time than I had. My dad had shoved a small desk into the corner between the refrigerator and broom closet and called it his home office. He'd used it to write bills and lists. I had put off pulling it out and throwing it away because there was something about the desk that left me with good memories. Dad would sit hunched over the desk in his blue uniform shirt and tell me about some funny thing that happened at work while he wrote out bills. And no fail, every time, he'd have to tear up at least two checks because he would be so busy telling me his story, he'd write the wrong amount. I tried to get him to use online banking, but he stubbornly refused, saying he didn't want the entire internet world to know his bank account information. I yanked the desk free and heard something slide out of the back. Once I cleared the desk from its tight corner, I turned back to pick up whatever
had fallen. Two faded pictures lay in a pile of debris and dust. Trying to keep with an office theme, Dad had always taped pictures to the wall above the desk. He was such a character. I picked up the photos and blew them off. One was a picture of a day at the beach. I hadn't expected the pictures and my breath left me for an instant. I rubbed my thumb over Emily. She was standing on the sand in her lemon yellow bikini, proudly showing off the new dragonfly tattoo on her hip to me and Evan, my friend and band mate. Getting a tattoo had been totally out of her comfort zone, but she and her friends had decided to go for it. She had been thrilled about it once it was done. She had an unusually wide smile spread across her pretty face as she pulled the string of her bikini down with her thumb. In the background, Rebecca was learning how to stand on a surfboard. Gregory, the guy she was dating at the time, was standing behind her with his hands wrapped greedily around her waist. Evan's wife, Rhonda, had been taking pictures all day. The second picture was of Rebecca standing on a surfboard on the sand. My phone rang. It had been two weeks since Rebecca's call, and for some stupid reason, I was still expecting to hear back from her. It was Dylan. "Yeah." "Hey, I signed you up for that bar owners’ conference at the convention center. Supposedly,
it's a good place to do networking, and they're offering a class on workplace safety. It's next Friday. So I'll cover here at work." "And why am I going? Why didn't you sign your own name to the form?" "Cuz I hate those fucking conferences, and I can't sit through some boring lecture on safety." My business partner still hadn't recovered from my snide remarks about his eyeing the sixteen-yearold. I had really hit a fucking sore spot. "Fine. Whatever. I don't mind them as long as they serve some decent breakfast food. Is that all you needed? I'm dismantling more of the kitchen." "Yep, that's it." He hung up. I went to put my phone back in my pocket, then a brilliantly stupid idea popped into my head. I placed Rebecca's picture on the desk and snapped a photo of it. It was slightly blurry, but it was easy enough to see her white smile shining through. I sent the picture with a text. "How's the surfing going?" I put the phone back in my pocket, convinced she would ignore the text and photo just like she'd ignored my calls. A text buzzed right back. "I've given it up for field hockey." My fingers slid over the letters. "Good choice. Besides, that Gregory dude was a jerk." "No, only you thought he was a jerk. Because you were a big ole butthead back then."
"I guess I was." I had been one of those guys able to get along with everyone, but I somehow always managed to find something wrong with any guy Rebecca dated. At the time, I had no idea that I was doing it. Now I understood why. "Hey, Rebel, how are you doing? Are you happy?" I couldn't find the courage to ask if there was someone in her life, but I'd left the question pretty open ended. I braced myself for the return text, hoping she wouldn't send a couple picture with some guy holding her in his arms. No picture. Just a text. "I'm surviving. How about you?" "Surviving." "I'm kind of disappointed you ended up starting a business with Dylan." The sports bar had been the first successful thing I'd done since graduating high school with a shitty C minus average. "You are? Why?" There was a long hesitation before her response. "It's just that you were my only hope for knowing a mega rock star." "Yeah, well, maybe I can still get discovered. In the meantime, I've found that food and shelter and clothing are kind of nice to have." "I've got to go. I'm at work." "K, I'll let you go." "Hey, Josh, I never minded that you hated my boyfriends."
"Sorry for being too overprotective." "I never minded that either. XO" I looked at her texts for another minute before putting the phone away. Remodeling had made me thirsty. I grabbed a beer from the refrigerator and headed out to the living room with the two pictures. I plopped down on the couch and chugged back the drink as I stared at the picture of Emily showing off her tattoo. She had the whole world wrapped around her finger. She was smart and beautiful and so damn confident. My eyes swept around away from the focal point of the picture, the beauty in the yellow bikini. The picture had faded a lot, but I could still clearly see Rebecca out in the water. I was sitting in the foreground in a beach chair. My head was turned away from my picture perfect girlfriend showing off her sexy new tattoo. Even though only the side of my face was showing, it was easy to see what had my attention. I was watching the girl on the surfboard.
CHAPTER 8
JOSHUA
Five years earlier
"W ell,
that's fucking it. We're short one drummer." Evan dropped his phone on top of the ice chest. "Sasha is having twins." "Twins, shit. Double whammy." I kept my gaze locked on the scene in the water as I spoke to him. "Guess Derek won't have time for practice or tours or fucking wiping his ass, for that matter." "Yeah, he's finally agreed to work for Sasha's dad at the lumberyard. He's going to need to make better money than we're pulling in with our spotty gigs. Fuck. We were so close. If only that record deal hadn't fallen through." I still hadn't pulled my eyes from the water. "Let's not go down that 'if only' road again, Evan. I
don't even want to think about it. Life sucks and we plod along." I lifted my can to my mouth and took a sip of soda. It had grown warm from my hand. The aluminum crumpled slightly in my firm grip. Rebecca's squeal circled up from the shore and coasted around me like a smooth, silky ribbon. Squeals weren't generally a soothing sound, but somehow, hers always made me smile. But her boyfriend's big, grubby hands holding her hips so tightly they left fingerprints on her suntanned skin wiped the smile away fast. Rebecca gripped his arms to keep from falling off the surfboard as they balanced in the frothy water near shore. "Josh, there's a thin line between being overprotective and being obsessive." Evan's strange statement helped pull my attention away from the surf lesson. "What are you rambling on about?" "I'm not rambling. I'm just letting you know that you haven't finished that soda yet, but you've already crushed the can with your tight grip." He glanced down to the shoreline where Emily and his wife, Rhonda, were playing Frisbee. Then he leaned over on his beach chair to get closer and lower his voice. "Don't get fucking mad, all right? I'm just going to say the shit that needs to be said. You do whatever you want with it." I looked at him. "I'm already mad and you haven't even said much."
He sat back hard enough to tip the front legs of the chair off the sand. "Fine. But I think it's something you need to hear." "Yeah? Well knowing how it'll just eat you up if you don't get to shovel out one of your important opinions, lay it on me." I had no real idea which way the conversation was headed. "Nah, I've changed my mind. I think you'll figure it out on your own." I nodded and returned my focus to the water. "See, and there you go again," Evan laughed. "Fuck, asshole, spit out what's in your craw." "Just going to say it then. We've been fucking sitting here for twenty minutes staring out at the navy blue Pacific." "That's it? That's your fucking chunk of wisdom?" "No, idiot. We're sitting here. Our two women, who both look so damn fine in their bikinis, especially bouncing around in the sand like two beach bunnies chasing that damn Frisbee, are right there but I haven't seen you look their direction once. And that's because you can't keep your eyes off of Rebecca. And yes, I know she's eighteen now and she's not a little kid anymore and she grew up to be a fucking heartbreaker, but she's Emily's sister. You were always super protective of the kid like she was your sister too, but that's not what this is anymore."
I kept my face like stone, pretending as if his words were so stupid they weren't even worth reacting too. But I was absorbing every fucking syllable like a sharp needle. Evan sat back, apparently satisfied that he'd said what needed to be said. I sure as fuck wished he'd kept his mouth shut. My only response was to reach over and turn up the music on the radio. Emily and Rhonda had tired of their game. They hiked back to the beach chairs, both one shade darker with tan. "Hey, Sasha's having twins," Evan called to them before they reach us. Rhonda shook her head. "Lucky Sasha. Two babies but only one round of morning sickness, stretch marks and swollen ankles." She sat down on the towel in front of Evan's chair and leaned back against his legs. "I hope I get that lucky when I get pregnant." "Bite your tongue, woman." Evan picked up the lotion and started rubbing it into her shoulders. Emily grabbed a soda from the ice chest and stretched out onto her stomach on the towel next to my chair. She propped herself up on her forearms and looked up at me. "Guess that means he won't have time for the band." I hated that she said it with so much enthusiasm. "That makes you happy, doesn't it?" She shrugged her shoulders. "A little."
"So my bad luck is your good luck." She pushed up to her knees. "That's not what I meant, Josh. It's just—then we can think of settling down somewhere together after I graduate. I mean if you're not traveling with the band anymore, that'll be a lot easier." "Glad that it's all worked out for you." I got to my feet. "Think I'll take a walk." "Jeez," Emily called after me. "Mr. Fucking Sensitive." I didn't look back, and I made a point of not looking out at the water where Rebecca and her overly tanned surfer boyfriend were having just a little too good of a time. Then I had no choice but to turn that direction when she called to me. "Hey, Josh, look!" I swung my gaze her direction. She was standing in front of Gregory with her arms stretched out away from her long, willowy body. "I think I'm ready for competition. Don't you think?" The last word made the board wobble under her feet. She screamed in laughter as she went over the side. Gregory used it as another excuse to wrap his greedy hands around her as they fell into the water together. I walked on. All in all, not my favorite beach trip.
CHAPTER 9
REBECCA
I
glanced around to make sure the area was clear and pulled the baggie out of my apron pocket. A shiver went through me. Even through the plastic, the dead cockroach made me queasy. I looked through the heads to table five, one of my big tables for the night. It was a bunch of people celebrating their friend's thirtieth birthday. Everyone was having a great time, laughing and being just a little bit on the side of obnoxiously loud. I'd immediately pinpointed that group for the cockroach fiasco, deciding they would make a lot of noise about a dead bug on their nacho platter. I had curled myself into a corner where I could fill salsa bowls and where no foot traffic passed by. The pig I worked for had slipped into his office an hour earlier, and I hadn't seen him since. I had to
admit he'd done a good job starting the place. It had been open a week, and there were already people waiting outside on the benches for a table. Things had gone remarkably smooth with only a few snafus regarding the menu and a rather spoiled chef. And I was making pretty good money in tips. If it weren't for the fact that I was there to destroy the business and its wretched owner, I might have even enjoyed the new job. A loud round of laughter thundered through the dining room. It was my table. Apparently they were opening gifts. The birthday woman looked so happy. I shoved the dead bug back into my apron. How could I ruin her thirtieth birthday? Shit. I was bad at this revenge thing. As badly as I wanted to ruin Trent in some glorious way, the way he had ruined my life, our lives, I couldn't bring myself to ruin the celebration of the birthday girl. I carried the nachos and drinks to the birthday table. As I passed by Anna, the head server, she leaned over to let me know I needed to take a break soon. I nodded and continued to the table with my heavy tray. The mini skirt and the rather creepy interview had given me hope that I might be able to catch the owner doing something shady or against employment practices, but damn, if he wasn't sticking to the book on everything. I'd even gone through the trouble of buying a slim pocket
recorder to catch him saying something inappropriate. But the one night he'd come close, by mentioning that my legs looked extra smooth, I'd forgotten to turn on the recorder. I was obviously not going to ever work as a spy or undercover agent. I let Anna know I'd be on a fifteen minute break, so she could cover my tables. I headed to the backroom refrigerator for my yogurt. I could hear Trent's voice, a voice that made me cringe, coming from the room. I opened the door. Trent was standing at the door to the back alley talking to a sleazy looking guy. Both of their faces shot up as if I'd walked into the room with silver pistols blazing. Trent pushed something he was holding out of view. "Why are you off the floor?" he asked angrily. "It's my break." I pointed to the fridge. "I just wanted my yogurt." He pushed on a smoother face. One thing was certain, the man had an explosive temper, even after the supposed year of anger management classes. "Right, go ahead and grab your yogurt." I hurried to the refrigerator as he cut short the conversation at the alley door. As I reached in to grab my Lime Surprise, a little grin popped up on my face. Maybe I was going to nail this guy after all. It seemed he was up to more than just running a
restaurant. I walked back out with a little less grin on my face. So far, my sleuthing skills were laughable. How the heck was I going to bring him down? I'd have to give it some thought when I wasn't dead tired. Two jobs were already taking their toll on me. I wasn't getting home until midnight, and I had to be at my cubicle by eight. Stupidly, I'd imagined this plan going much faster. I placed my yogurt down in the cramped break room and slipped into the restroom to wash my hands. The restaurant was so crowded and hot, I decided to put my hair up into a ponytail. Ellie, one of the servers, walked in to check her makeup. "Wow, busy night. Some good tips too." "Yep, can't complain." I pulled my hair through the rubber band. Ellie looked over and squinted at the tiny tattoo on the side of my neck. "Rebel, Rebel," she read. "How cute. Because of the song?" "No." I fingered the tattoo absently. "It's something a good friend used to call me. I could be in the darkest, worst mood, but if I heard him say Rebel, Rebel, it always made me smile." "Shoot, we can all use a friend like that, huh?" My thoughts drifted naturally to Joshua. I'd almost forgotten Ellie was standing right there looking in the same mirror. She tapped me on the arm. "Or maybe he was
more than a friend. You've got that starry eyed look my mom gets when she's watching a movie with Brad Pitt." I smiled. "No, he was just a friend." "Well"—Ellie took a deep breath—"Back to the trenches and hopefully to the tippers with deep pockets." "Good luck." "You too." I headed back out to the break room and popped open my yogurt. I rarely let my mind get clouded with Joshua memories, but sometimes, they were too hard to keep away.
CHAPTER 10
REBECCA
Five years earlier
I
had Nick Cave on my headset, which fit my mood perfectly as I swung slowly back and forth on the crude wood swing hanging down from the massive oak in Michelle's front yard. It was strange how I called her mom, just like she had asked, but inside my head she was still Michelle. Maybe that's because I knew inside her head, I was still another woman's daughter. A late summer breeze tickled my bare legs as I flung my feet forward to keep the motion going. The air still smelled like summer, but I could feel the edges of fall lacing the feathery light wind. I couldn't remember how many times I'd sat on the
swing pumping my legs hard in an effort to rocket the swing up to the sky. So many times I wanted the inertia just to take me straight into the clouds and away from the house and yard and town forever. Today was one of those days, but I couldn't even work up the energy to pump my legs. Sometimes everything compounded inside of me, and it stayed there like a brick with rough, sharp edges. And then it took a lot of effort to smooth down the corners, corners that rubbed me from the inside, scratching at my soul, reminding me of why the brick was there in the first place. I coasted forward, and two hands grabbed the ropes to stop me. I startled, yanked out my ear buds and spun around. Joshua was wearing that movie star smile and holding up a packet of pink Pop Rocks. His long brown hair was hanging down around his shoulders in what I liked to tease him as his rowdy punk look. His extra long locks were always a source of contention between him and Emily. Even though I called her Emily, she was always my sister in my head. "Hey, Rebel, Rebel, got you something." He wiggled the black and pink packet of candy. "Oh my gosh, I haven't had those in sooo long." The swing flowed forward as I grabbed for the Pop Rocks, but he teasingly held them just out of reach. "Ah, what's the magic word?"
I gave him a crooked smile. "Butthead?" "That works." He tossed the pack of candy onto my lap. "You know I was thinking of getting that tattooed right here on my inner forearm." For the last few years, Joshua had gotten into working out with weights. Now every inch of him was carved, including his forearms. Sometimes I wanted to kick Emily for not appreciating just how amazing he was. She was always busy trying to fix him when there just wasn't a damn thing to fix. "Tattoo what?' "Butthead," he said matter of factly as if it was already a done deal and he just needed to get to the tattoo shop. I held the ropes as I leaned back with a laugh. It sent me forward, and he caught my bare feet in his hands, holding me in suspended animation. His hands wrapped around my ankles and his palms warmed the cool night air from my skin. Nick Cave's deep, melodic tone whispered through the ear buds in my lap, the only sound, aside from the vibrating leaves in the overhead branches. The silence between us, as he held my ankles, was strong and comforting, as strong and comforting as our friendship. Slowly, he peeled his hands away from my ankles and I swung back. "I like the idea." I ripped open the Pop Rocks. "I might get Rebel, Rebel tattooed somewhere too." I tossed my head back, and the fizzy candy coated
my tongue. I was enjoying the nostalgia of crinkling my nose over a mouthful of sour, bubbling candy and hadn't noticed the expression on his face. The smile had faded and he was wearing that same lost, almost pained, expression I caught more and more often, especially when he didn't know I was watching him. There was so much going on in his life, his change in plans from a rock and roll dream future to a boring job. His dad sick with liver disease. And then there was his relationship with Emily. They seemed to trip through more rough patches than smooth lately. I worried that they might break up and then he'd be out of my life forever. I wasn't sure I could bear that. I offered him some Pop Rocks. "No thanks." He walked around behind me and gave me a light push. "You know that guy is just an asshole anyhow." I twisted around to look at him, and it sent the swing sideways. "Who?" My body stiffened as I waited for his response. "Gregory," he said, looking confused at my reaction. "Oh, yeah, Gregory." I released the breath I'd been holding. "Sorry to hear about the breakup." I pushed off the ground for more momentum. "No you aren't."
He laughed. "You're right. I'm not. He wasn't right for you." "You sure have the bar set high for me. I guess I should have at least as high a bar as Emily. After all, she has the gold standard." He laughed again, only this time it sounded far off and lonely. "Yeah, I don't think that's true. And I'm pretty sure Em would agree." "She can be kind of clueless." I sucked on some more candy. For now, some of the rough, sharp edges of the brick had been smoothed and the pain lifted. Joshua had done that. He pushed me forward. I watched my pale feet stand out against the blue night sky. "Josh, do you have any happy triggers?" "Happy triggers?" "Yeah, you know, little things that give you this sudden lift, a rush of happiness. Even when you're feeling down." "Huh, never gave it much thought. But I can say that when I'm playing guitar all the shit in the world disappears. In fact, just seeing my guitar gives me a rush. And a double cheeseburger, that can be a rush too." "See, that's what I'm talking about. For me a peanut butter and jelly sandwich sitting on a bed of potato chips makes me giddy as if the world and humankind can make it through the dark times as long as there are peanut butter and jelly sandwiches
and potato chips." Joshua circled around to stand next to me as I coasted forward and back on the swing, slowing my momentum with an occasional toe tap on the ground. He reached up and took hold of one side of the rope, and I twisted around and bounced back. "PB and J. You, my friend, do not have high standards when it comes to happy triggers." "I guess not. I think it's not so much the sandwich and chips as that they remind me of a time when it was just my dad and me. He had to work a lot, and I was just a little kid who thought cereal with marshmallow shapes was a gourmet meal. We'd sit at our little table with the crayon marks I'd made from coloring my homework sheets and we'd laugh and tell each other about our day over peanut butter, jelly and potato chips." I lifted my face to his. Joshua's smile was faint, but I caught that elusive twinkle in his eyes that let me know whatever I'd said had pleased him. It was those looks that assured me I had a true friend in Joshua. He never judged me. Most of all, I could trust him. I felt safe with him, and I couldn't say that about everyone. That strong, comforting silence fell over us again. I knew he was just as aware of it as I was, but we never mentioned it. Only sometimes, it became too strong, and I had to shake it off before
something happened that neither of us could handle. I moved my hands down to just hold onto the ropes without moving the swing. "And houses with window boxes," I continued. "Of course the boxes have to be overflowing with flowers, otherwise they are just boxes. Like on a Swiss chalet house. Yep. Houses with flowering window boxes are happy triggers too. When I pass a house with flower boxes, I always wonder what it would be like to live inside. I always imagine a cozy fire and fresh baked bread on the kitchen table and a big orange cat curled up in a basket of yarn." Josh's faint smile widened to a grin. He ruffled my hair. "Don't you dare ever change, Rebel. I've got to go. See you later." "Thanks for the Pop Rocks," I called, and he waved back at me without turning around. I watched him climb into his car. "And you, Josh. The best happy trigger of all."
CHAPTER 11
JOSHUA
D
ay old bagels, cream cheese and fruit that looked like it came from a can instead of a tree was hardly a trade-off for having to sit through a business conference. But at least I'd had the forethought to let Dylan know that I'd be taking all weekend off to make up for it. He'd taken several long weekends lately for nothing more than surfing and hanging out with friends, so I didn't feel too guilty asking for it. He had reluctantly agreed. Not that I had any exciting plans, but I needed to finish my damn kitchen. Frozen food was starting to get to me, like the stale bagels and mushy colorless fruit on the breakfast buffet table. Kennedy, a very cute, albeit talkative, woman, who was still only thinking about starting a bar business, had followed me into several information
sessions. I'd considered asking for her phone number more than once, but something told me she wasn't the type to just want to have fun and some good sex. I had no idea I'd become 'that guy', the sneak out at three in the morning with shoes in hand type, until it dawned on me that I hadn't developed an emotional attachment to any of the girls I'd dated in the past four years. There had been no one steady since Emily. Maybe I'd just started that relationship too damn early for my own good, and now, as a twenty-something, I was a hopeless asshole preferring a one or two night stand to having someone to come home to every night. The chairs in what was labeled the East Conference room were lined up in perfect rows and columns. They were straight backed with little leg room to deter you from deciding to stretch your legs out for a quick snooze. The topic was internet marketing and social media. The presenters, a stiff, fake looking couple, were standing up front with their brightly colored brochures and three thousand dollar glowing white dental veneers. The usual laptop, projector and big screen set up was just waiting to be lit up so we could be filled with incredible, must-have information. I found a chair at the end of the second to last row and scooted it back just enough to throw off the symmetry of the row and allow my long legs to stretch out. I picked up my phone and scrolled
through to the few notes I'd taken in the other sessions. Not too much there that we didn't already know. It actually made me feel better to think that Dylan and I had done most things right, even though we were new to the business. And we'd been lucky enough to be local boys, so it was easy to get people through the door. So far, things were running smoothly, which made me wonder why lately Dylan had been hinting at wanting me to buy him out. Not that I had the cash or credit for that. It seemed he was getting the itch to travel again, something he did a lot growing up. He was four years older than me, and he was out on his own while I was still in high school. He'd leave for a few months and do some weird job like working on a fishing boat in Alaska or cutting hay on an alfalfa farm. Then he'd tire of it and come back home. And Michelle was always thrilled to have him back in the house. "There you are, Josh." It was easy to recognize Kennedy's voice because it reminded me of an excited kindergartner. She dropped her many bags, a personal handbag, a laptop case, a thermal lunch bag, on the floor between our seats and sat down. "Here." She handed me a red sucker. "It'll help you stay awake. I heard from someone else these presenters are more interested in selling their marketing team than giving out good ideas." "Great." I took the sucker and unwrapped it.
"Thanks." I stuck it in my mouth and decided it would also give me less opportunity to talk. And since Kennedy had one too . . . Nope. She had no problem talking around the candy. "I'm thinking of a bar with just craft beer. What do you think? Too cliché'?" Since I didn't have any real opinion on it I just nodded and muttered 'sounds good' around my cherry sucker. The woman presenter marched on her high heels down the narrow aisle between the chairs. She had the type of straight posture that every person should envy, but all I could think was 'damn that looks uncomfortable'. She clapped her hands sharply to go along with the military posture. "Hello out in the hallway. We are about to start, so if you could take a seat, I'll shut the doors." I slumped even more and found a small space under the chair in front of me where my big feet wouldn't bother the lady sitting in it. People rolled in, bringing their loud hallway conversations into the room with them. The seats filled up fast, including the empty chairs behind me. I didn't turn around to look at them, but the person directly behind me had big shit kicker style boots. He rested them against the leg of my chair. It seemed that it was going to be a long session. The presenters who had looked so prepared, as if they'd been ready to give their talk since they
were ten years old, couldn't get their very informative power point up on the screen. Her posture was just a little more wilted as they circled the projector and laptop tapping keys and fidgeting with connections. Their white veneers disappeared behind tight lips, and they began quietly blaming each other for the presentation fiasco. It was probably the most entertaining thing to happen all day, other than the overly plump guy filling his plate with too many stale blueberry muffins so that the paper plate collapsed and his muffins rolled all over the floor. Big foot behind me was getting restless, and I could feel him push against my chair. I chewed on my sucker to keep from turning around to say something. Although, the tense presenters would probably welcome a bar owner brawl for some diversion. "Hey, check out this picture I took of Zoe bending over to pull napkins out from under the counter," the guy behind Kennedy said to big foot directly behind me. I still hadn't looked at him, but something told me we were going to be looking each other directly in the eye long before the end of the presentation. If there ever was a presentation. In the meantime, the red faced presenters had called for some tech support from the hotel that was hosting the conference. Two confused looking workers wearing maintenance uniforms shuffled
into the room. Kennedy laughed. "They need Barry, the tech nerd I went to school with. Every teacher had him on speed dial in case they couldn't get their stuff to work. I swear that poor guy spent more time racing between classrooms to fix computers than actually sitting in one." I nodded. "Yeah, our guy was Roland, and if he wasn't available, it was his sister, Patty. Apparently, computer genius ran in the family." Thankfully, Kennedy's phone buzzed. She pulled it out to have a text conversation. I tilted my head to hear more about the sleazy bar owner who was taking pictures of his servers as they bent over for napkins. "Those mini skirts were genius. And man did Vandy hire some hotties. I'm having a hard time just trying to keep all their names straight because I can hardly think clearly with all those smooth legs and plump tits." "Yeah, well, you keep your hands off of them or the boss will be handing you your ass, cousin or not." At least it seemed big foot had some integrity as compared to cousin. "I know. I know. I just like looking." The conversation was reminding me of Dylan and me. "Yeah, look all you want. Not like Vandy isn't always checking them out," big foot said. "Oh, especially that one girl. Oh man, is she a
love and a half. You know the one I'm talking about. Like the brightest star in the sky." At least his sleazy cousin had a bit of poetry in his heart. "You know which one I mean? Damn, I wish I could remember names." "That's because you have mush for brains," big foot noted. The lights went out, and it seemed we were soon going to be treated to the presentation, only the presenters looked a little frazzled and less enthusiastic about the whole thing. Behind us, mush for brains was still trying to come up with the name. "She's got those beautiful green eyes, and oh yeah, she has the sweetest little tattoo on her neck that says Rebel, Rebel." I shot up in my seat and nearly choked on the candy. I moved so abruptly I kicked the chair in front of me. The woman twisted around with a fiery scowl. "Sorry." She turned back around and then adjusted her ass on the chair to let me know I'd really disturbed her. But I didn't give a fuck about the woman in front of me or the clownish presenters or the chatty person next to me. My mind was racing as fast as my pulse as I put together a quick plan. I needed to get information before the self-
important presenters got heavy into their bullshit. I turned around in my chair. The guy with the big shoes had that forced, I'm too fucking cool for everyone, look on his face. He had an ugly ass tattoo of something that I couldn't quite make out on his neck, and he was wearing a blue button up shirt that was way too small. Cousin was a skinny guy with an extra long nose and a gooberish expression that looked permanent. Before big foot could sneer a 'can I help you' at me, I struck up a conversation. "Hey, I was just hearing you talk about your servers, and I've got this group of friends—once a month, we leave the women at home so we can go out for beers. Some of them have big wads of cash to get rid of by the weekend. Your place sounds pretty sweet. In every respect." I was putting on a good show. "What's the name of the place? Do you have a business card?" Big foot blinked at me and tilted his round head. "Don't you have your own bar?" I'd forgotten that I was sitting in a conference filled with bar owners. Except for the woman next to me. "Uh, yeah, eventually. I'm still working on getting shit together. So should we check your place out? Or maybe you don't need new customers." I'd gotten Kennedy's attention, and I was just waiting for her to point out my lie. Instead, she elbowed me to let me know I'd become the center of attention in the room. The presenters were
waiting for me to turn around like I was sitting in a fucking classroom. I scooted back around and resisted the urge to flip off all the perturbed faces still staring my direction. Seconds later, a silver and black business card slipped over my shoulder. I grabbed it from cousin's fingers and looked at it. Vandy's was a bar and grill in the city, about an hour from Camden Beach. I moved my eyes down to the phone number, website and name of the owner. Trent Vandermeer. Fuck. What the hell was Rebecca up to now? For the millionth time, I wondered just how different everything would be if not for that damn kiss.
CHAPTER 12
JOSHUA
Five years earlier
E
mily sat down on the porch step and wrapped her arms around her knees to bring them closer. She had pouting down to an art, and it seemed she had to practice that art more and more each day, but only around me. I sat down next to her, but what I really wanted to do was just keep walking down the brick path to my car. Nothing worked right between us anymore. "I thought you'd at least be excited for me," I said as I pulled a strand of grass up from the crack between the steps. I rubbed it between my fingers, pressed it against my mouth and blew to create a shrill whistling sound. I lowered my makeshift instrument and looked at her. "You used to laugh
when I did that. Seems like nothing about me makes you smile anymore, Em." In my heart I knew it was over between us. We were just hanging on to those leftover threads, the ones that formed out of familiarity, out of knowing each other so well that it seemed impossible to think of a life apart. And then there were still those threads that seemed to have been woven and put into place by friends and family and all the people who seemed convinced that since we were such a perfect couple in high school, we needed to stay together forever. Like there was some unspoken law written by heavy duty romantics that said high school sweethearts were bound for eternity. "I thought you'd decided to take that job at the lumber yard. You were going to put your music on the back burner for awhile." If I needed to name one thing, one wedge in our relationship that had helped fray all the threads, it was that Emily had never supported my music career. When we were young, she loved to tell everyone that her boyfriend was in a band, but when the reality of growing up hit, the band sheen faded. Now I was the boyfriend who was always dead broke because making money in music was hard. "Tru Excess is a popular cover band. They get a lot of gigs, and I'm fucking excited as hell that they asked me to play with them. Can't you be happy for me instead of perpetually disappointed?" I'd gotten
an offer to play with a mid list band. For me, it was like winning the fucking lottery. The money wasn't great, but I'd be playing on stage with an awesome group of musicians. Unfortunately, my excitement was directly proportional to Emily's disappointment. She didn't respond. She lowered her arms and zipped up her sweatshirt. A year ago, I would have put my arm around her to shield her from the cool night air. Hell, three months ago I would have done it. But the true unraveling of things had begun at the beginning of summer, right after she moved home for the break. It was obvious then that we were growing apart. At least it was to me. But Emily was still holding onto those damn threads, determined to rework them to her liking. It seemed the conversation had ended like so many we had lately, with Emily falling silent and me trying to figure out what the hell to do next. It shouldn't have been so complicated but it was. I was close to her family. I was close to her brother, Dylan. And then there was Rebecca. More than I liked to admit, I couldn't bring myself to break up with Emily because I worried that I'd never talk to Rebecca again. "Well, should we go to the party?" I got up from the steps. It was the last weekend of summer break, and there was always a big party at the Muir's beach house. It could get pretty wild, but it was one
of those traditions that had endured the test of time . . . and at least four police breakups. "You go ahead." Emily got up from the step. "I'm not in the mood. Oh, and keep an eye on Rebecca, would you? All of her sense and reason seem to fly out the window when she has a few beers. And she's been hanging out with some real losers lately. It's almost as if she's trying to live up to that damn nickname you created." Emily had never tried to hide how much she hated the nickname Rebel. "You can't be serious about the nickname." "Just go and make sure she stays out of trouble. Are you still going to drive me to the university tomorrow?" she asked as I walked away. "I said I would. I'll be here at nine sharp." Evan met me at my house, and we drove out to the beach house. Cars and motorcycles and every other mode of transportation were lined up along the narrow beach highway. The air was already vibrating with music and voices and beer bubbles. Evan turned off the car. "I'm thinking eleven o'clock before the cops show up." "Yeah? That might be wishful thinking."
TWO
HOURS
in and no sign of flashing red lights, but
with each keg drained, people were getting louder and more obnoxious. Three beers was my limit. Watching a perfectly great dad drink himself literally to death was a great deterrent from sucking down too much booze. But since my buzz was light and almost everyone else's was heavy, the whole party was starting to get on my nerves. But no one was standing more on those exposed nerves than Gregory, Rebecca's ex-boyfriend. He was off-hisass drunk, and he was following Rebecca around as if he owned her. I'd practically worn my back teeth down from jaw clenching every time the jerk went near her. Evan walked over after a long debate about music with a guy who used to hang with our band when we were still just garage players. "Marty is such a douche. And he's even more douchey when I haven't had a beer." Evan was driving tonight, and with his multitude of driving citations, he figured the last thing he needed was a DUI. Plus, Rhonda told him not to drink, and she was the type who would sniff his breath to make sure. "Don't know why you bother to debate him all the time," I said absently as my attention was grabbed by Rebecca heading out to the beer keg with her plastic cup. She was doing more skipping than walking. The springy step had more to do with being tipsy than being enthusiastic. I knew for a fact that she couldn't stand firmly in one place
when she'd had too much to drink. "Dude— Josh." Evan's voice tripped me from my thoughts. "You're doing it again. You've been watching her all night." "You know what, Evan? Sometimes you're the douchebag, and frankly, I wish I'd driven so you could get drunk. You're less annoying." "And there you go getting really fucking defensive again when I mention it." "Fuck off, Evan." I headed out to the beer keg. Rebecca had smiled her way up to the front of the line, and the guy in charge of filling cups was more than happy to fill hers to the top. I elbowed through the line and grabbed the cup before he could hand it back to her. "What are you doing?" Rebecca grabbed hold of the sleeve of my shirt. Not to retrieve the beer but to keep herself steady. I looked around at the surrounding faces and decided not to sound like the asshole dad in front of everyone. I also knew Rebecca would be pissed as hell if I embarrassed her in front of her friends. I took a big swig from her cup, draining about half of it. "I just wanted a drink." I backed out of the line with the cup. Rebecca followed after me. She had seen right through my act. Once we were out of earshot of the beer line, I dropped it. "Rebel, you have had more than enough to drink. Trust me, you'll thank me in the morning."
"Butthead." Her hand shot out and she grabbed the cup, but the beer sloshed all over her hand. "Super butthead. Stop following me around. If I'd wanted my dad to come to the party, I would have invited him." She stomped away, proving that stomping away mad could look ridiculously cute on the right person. A light hand landed on my shoulder. Even through the salty coastal breeze and the smoke from the fire pits, Mindy's extra powerful perfume made my eyes water as she circled in front of me. "Seems like Rebecca still has a long way to go before she's grown up." I shook my head. "Not true. You just don't know her." Her penciled in brow lifted. "And you do?" "Yeah, I do." Mindy had been Emily's best friend since the eighth grade, but I sure as hell could never figure out what Emily found so friend worthy about her. "I still can't believe Emily didn't come tonight. She wouldn't tell me why either." Mindy's words were stretched slow from drinking. "Why didn't she come? Did you two have a fight?" "You have asked me that three different times tonight. I suggest you wait until you're sober and ask Emily herself." I tried to make a hasty exit from the conversation, but Mindy took hold of my arm. Then
surprisingly, she trailed her fingers along my entire forearm and stopped at my hand. "Such a talented guitar player. It's a shame that Em doesn't appreciate how amazing you are." She was swaying enough on her feet that I was sure she had no fucking clue what she was doing, but she reached up and tangled her fingers in my hair. "I love your long hair. Emily is always complaining about it, but I think it's hot." She pressed her body against mine. It was all that was needed to grab the attention of the people around us. Emily's boyfriend and best friend standing way too close. That was all I fucking needed. I stepped back abruptly and caught Mindy before she fell forward. "Mindy, you should lay off the beer. I'll let Emily know you said hi." I winked at her and rushed away from the scene. I walked back into the front room of the beach house. It was a cool room surrounded by glass windows with an awesome view of the water. I looked around for Evan hoping he hadn't left without me. I walked through the corridor to the kitchen and passed the game room where people were playing video games. A familiar voice caught my attention. "Stop," Rebecca said. "I told you no." I shot into the room. The lights were turned low for the video game, and a group of heads stuck up over the back of the couch, all engaged in the
game. Music from the next room pounded through the walls as I searched around. In the far corner, behind a half open door, Gregory's bleached blond hair flashed like an explosion in the dark room. Rebecca's pale, scared face poked around his shoulder as she tried to push past him. "No, you asshole!" she cried as he pushed her back into the small corner. My loud footsteps dragged everyone's attention away from the game. I grabbed the back of Gregory's shirt and swung him around. He came out of the sudden turn with fists flying. His massive silver skull ring flashed toward me, but I ducked away from his wild right hook. I came right back with a much more precise hook. My knuckles landed squarely against his nose. Bones crackled and blood sprayed as he stumbled back. Rebecca squirted out from the crevice between Gregory's stumbling body and the edge of the door. Tears streamed down her face. She reached for my arm as I pulled it back to hit the guy again. "No, Josh, don't. It's all right," she pleaded. But I was past reason. "Don't ever touch her again, you motherfucker." My knuckles pulsed with pain as I landed another blow to his jaw. In my haze of rage, I felt strong hands grab hold of me to keep me from taking another swing. The
guys playing the video game had stepped in to stop the fight. Gregory was leaning against the edge of the door for support. He stared at me as he cupped his hand under his nose to keep the blood from dripping onto his shirt. I pulled out from the hands that were restraining me. "I'm not going to hit him." I stuck my finger in his face. "Don't ever touch her again." Through the dribbles of blood and swollen jaw, he managed a mean smile. "Why the fuck you don't just get it over with and fuck her already. Everyone fucking knows you want her." A sob sounded behind me. I turned to see Rebecca running from the room. I took off after her. People stepped out of the way as Rebecca pushed through the curious onlookers. She ran out onto the beach and fell to her knees. But she pushed to her feet and ran before I reached her. "Rebel, Rebecca, stop." I followed her across the sand and down to the water. She kicked off her sandals and ran through the froth along the water's edge. Then she stopped, but she didn't turn to look back at me. Yellow moonlight poured down on her as she stared out at the ocean. I stayed ten feet back, worried that if I got too close she'd run again, like a frail, scared deer. "Why don't they leave me
the fuck alone? I don't want any of it." Her thin shoulders bobbed, and my heart knotted up at the sound of her crying. She breathed in a shuddering breath. Her tear stained face turned to me. The ocean breeze made her long hair dance around her face. "And then there's you." "I'm not like them, Rebecca. I'm not like those other guys." Her shoulders dropped as if in surrender. "I know. I know. But I wish you were. I wish you were just like them." She swiped at a tear on her face. "Why is everything always so wrong? Why is everyone always so wrong . . . except you." She ran to me, but I met her halfway. Her arms circled my neck as I pulled her against me. Our mouths locked. It was all there, everything that I'd imagined. Her sweet warm breath, her body tucked next to mine, feeling as if it belonged there. The hurricane of emotions that swallowed me every time I thought about her swirled around us like a fucking category five storm. I tried to tell myself it was nothing. It was just the beer and the fight and the intense night. But I knew. I knew it wasn't nothing. It was fucking everything. Rebecca peeled her lips from mine. Her blue eyes rounded with a mix of confusion and pain that went straight through me like a steel bolt. Her hand flew to her mouth. "Shit, shit, shit." She ran back toward the house and out of my
reach. I watched her disappear over the ledge of sand that had been formed by the tide. "Fuck."
CHAPTER 13
REBECCA
I
snuck behind the shield of the bar counter to retie the knot in my t-shirt. We were allowed to wear any shirt we wanted with the short mini skirt, as long as it was tied up to show a few inches of stomach. I smoothed my hand over the Iron Maiden decal, something I'd done so often, there was hardly any color left. Somehow, touching the darn thing always made me feel better, like I could take on the whole fucking world. Olivia, the head bartender, dropped the last slices of lime onto a tray next to the shots of tequila. I saw it as my opportunity to get into the stockroom and snoop around. As Olivia went to help someone down at the other end of the counter, I plucked the four limes out of the basket under the counter and hid them behind some bottles of
scotch. Olivia returned, and, just as I'd predicted, she reached down into the citrus basket to get a few more limes. I pretended to busy myself filling water glasses as she brought up every fruit except a lime. "Shoot, I thought I had limes up front." She sighed in frustration and pulled her stockroom key from her pocket. "I'll go, Olivia. My tables are taken care of, and I'm just fru-fruing around filling water glasses and stacking napkins." "Well, if you really don't mind. And bring out some more of the coarse salt." "Sure thing." I held out my hand, and she dropped the key onto my palm. Only Trent, his two goofy cousins and the bartenders held stockroom keys. After that stealthy meeting I’d caught Trent in at the alley door, I saw him take something into the stockroom. I decided it was as good a place as any to snoop around. I had to admit, I was kind of having fun with the sleuthing stuff. Now if I could just find something of value, something that would ruin Trent. The light was on in Trent's office. Fortunately, I didn't have to walk past it to get to the stockroom. I peered around as I unlocked the door. No sign of anyone. I slipped inside and reached up to pull the chain for the light. Shelves lined every wall. They were packed solid with boxes. My heart sank. It would take me hours to get through all the boxes,
even longer since I didn't actually know what I was looking for. As big an ass as Trent was, if it had been drugs or something illegal, he wasn't stupid enough to leave ill-gotten gains out in the open. I started on the back wall. Many of the boxes were sliced open. I flipped up the ends of a few to check inside. Nothing untoward in any of them. Olive cans were sitting in the box marked olives, and salt containers were in the box marked salt, which reminded me to grab a container of salt. I gazed up to the top of the shelves. There were plenty of boxes stacked high and out of reach. In the midst of all the commercially labeled boxes, there was one unmarked, opaque plastic container. I glanced around and found a metal stepstool shoved beneath the shelving. I yanked it out and lined it up in front of the shelf with the plastic container. My feet wobbled from side to side on the stepstool. Either its legs were different lengths or the cement floor was not level. I had to hold on to the shelf in front of me to keep from falling over. I stretched my arm up as high as it could go but I could only reach the smooth round edge of the container. I needed to get a better grip. I placed my knee up on the middle shelf to give myself a lift up. As I stretched my arm up high, the stockroom door opened. "Oh!" I lost my balance and fell backward. I
landed in a pair of arms. The smell of cheap cologne assured me that the arms belonged to Marty, Trent's less than genius cousin. He seemed determined to keep holding me. I wiggled violently like a fish in a net until he had no choice but to lower my feet to the floor. I stepped out of his reach. Marty had close set eyes that went perfectly with his personality. "What were ya looking for way up there?" "Uh, well," I looked around and saw the crate of citrus fruit. "Limes. Olivia needs limes, and I thought they might be up top." I scooted to the crate and pulled out four limes. "And here they are right on this low shelf. Oh well. Thanks again for catching me. Olivia will be waiting." I plucked the salt off the shelf and tried to move past him quickly. His arm shot out, and I looked down at the silly pirate tattoo that stared up at me from his forearm. "Now, I was thinking we could make a deal. A partnership of some kind. We could exchange favors." His words were frighteningly familiar, and they sent a chill through my bones. The pale yellow walls of the storage room began to close in on me, making it hard to breathe, and I felt tingling sensations race up my arms like thousands of tiny spiders. I hadn't had a major panic attack since I
was a teenager, but it seemed I was about to be overwhelmed by one. As clueless as Marty was, he seemed to sense something was wrong. "Rebecca, are you all right? Never mind what I said. I'll let you get back to your shift. You look pale. You need some air." He flung open the door and raced off as if he was going to get in big trouble. He was right. I needed air. The hallway didn't provide me much relief. I clutched the limes and salt against me and closed my eyes to calm the terrified thoughts in my head. They were all still there. Sometimes I let myself believe they were gone. That I had outrun them. But I hadn't. They were never going away. I rested back against the cool plaster wall in the hallway until the spinning stopped. "Rebecca?" Olivia's angry tone snapped me out of the attack faster than the cool plaster. "Sorry." I pushed off the wall. "I was feeling a little dizzy." I handed her the limes and salt. "I need to get back to my tables." I was still shaky from the panic attack as I made the rounds to see what my customers needed. I returned to the bar for the pitcher of iced tea and carried it back to a table. Anna leaned closer as she swept past with a tray of drinks. "Now, there's a man who knows how to wear a hat," she quipped.
I glanced in the direction of the cowboy hat that had just walked in. His face was down, and the wide brim of the hat blocked it from view. But he was wearing a nice black leather jacket and boots. His long hair rolled over his shoulders. Billie, the hostess, led him to one of the small tables along the side window. Something about the way he walked sent a rush of breath from my lungs, but I couldn't pinpoint why. Maybe it was just the swagger with the cowboy boots. I finished pouring the drinks and rushed back to get some more napkins for one of my tables where everyone was eating spare ribs. I grabbed enough napkins to wallpaper the restaurant, and I headed back to their table. From the corner of my eye, I could see the guy lifting off his cowboy hat. Curiosity caused my gaze to flick his direction. He lowered his hat to the seat and lifted his face. Our gazes stuck together like strong magnets. I felt the stack of napkins flutter past my legs on the way to the floor. "Uh, excuse me, miss. Excuse me." I heard the customer's voice, but I felt glued to the spot. I kept staring at Joshua, trying to decide if he was real or if the stressful last twenty minutes had made me conjure him. He had always been the one person I wanted to see when I was upset. "Miss, could we get some fresh napkins?" The angry man with the fingers covered in barbecue
sauce was close to shouting. "Uh yes. So sorry." I stooped down to pick up the fallen napkins. "What are you doing, Rebecca?" Trent said angrily as he tossed fresh napkins on the table. "That was a big waste of money." Of course he didn't help me pick them up. Instead he stood over me, glowering down with crossed arms. "Sorry, I'll get them." I scooped them into a big papery cluster against my chest. Trent eyed them and then motioned for me to follow him. "I need to talk to you about something." I was in trouble. Marty must have told him that I was climbing up on the shelving. His feet stomped along the gray tile floor. It seemed those anger management classes he'd been ordered to take hadn't really done the trick. I knew I wasn't keeping up with him. My feet were dragging. Not from worry about the office lecture, but from the shock of seeing Joshua. Apparently, not wanting to make a scene, although he pretty much was, Trent discretely reached back and grabbed my elbow. He gave my arm a sharp tug. Once again, the napkins fluttered to the floor like square white leaves falling from a paper tree. I stooped to pick them up. "Leave them," Trent snapped. He turned
around sharply on his heels to lead me to his office, but there was someone standing in his way. I leaned my head to see past the boss's big shoulder. Even in the midst of staring down Trent's scowl, Joshua's eyes found me instantly. "Can I help you?" Trent asked rudely. Joshua allowed his gaze to hold mine for a few more seconds before turning his eyes to Trent. "Just here to take my friend home." The sound of his voice had the same profound impact it had always had on me. It took me a moment to comprehend what he said. I shook my head to let Joshua know that I wasn't going with him. I was determined to finish what I'd started. "Well, don't let me stop you," Trent barked. "Now, if you could clear the aisle, my server needs to get through." I hadn't noticed that Anna was behind Joshua with a tray of food. Joshua stepped back out of the way. Trent grabbed my arm rather roughly and pulled me along behind him. We didn't make it far. Joshua circled back in front of us. Trent was one of those extra thick men, but Joshua, whose shoulders and arms showed that he had never stopped lifting weights, wasn't the least put off by Trent's size. "Uh, I think you're holding on to the friend I was talking about. And she's wearing my t-shirt.
I've come to collect it." It amazed me how calm Joshua spoke when he was speaking to Trent, a man who I knew damn well Joshua hated as much as me or more. "You're not supposed to take back gifts," I said around Trent's shoulder. Trent's forehead bunched up. He looked back at me before turning back to face Joshua. "Who the hell are you?" Joshua held out his arms. "You don't recognize me? Cuz, I sure as hell remember your big, ugly face." Sensing that the restaurant had gone oddly quiet, Trent's cousins walked out of the back. He motioned silently for them to join him. I jumped between them and gave Joshua a 'what the hell are you doing' look. "You should go now. I'm working." I glanced back at Trent. "He's just an old acquaintance. I hardly know him. He's just leaving." I turned back to Joshua. "Right?" "I'm going. But you're coming with me." "No, I'm not. I have work to do." I kept giving him the secret look, but he blatantly ignored me. "All right, buddy." Trent's cousin, Alex, who was as big as he was mean, came forward. He stopped short of pounding Joshua. "Hey, I know you." Joshua pointed up at him, and it was obvious Alex wanted nothing more than to break off
Joshua's already crooked finger. "Right. Big foot. From the conference. Did you learn a lot? Because I did. I found someone I'd lost track of." Joshua winked at me. I shook my head discretely in response. Alex reached for Joshua's arm, but he pulled it back. "Don't want any trouble. I just came to collect my friend." "You can't make me go," I mouthed to him. "Just watch me." "You wouldn't dare." "Yep. I would." Joshua closed the gap between us, but Trent shoved him back hard. Joshua lifted his chin. "Go ahead, take your best shot. It'll be an excuse for me to throw my fist at you. Something I've been dying to do for four years." Trent squinted at him. "Shit, I knew I recognized you. Get the fuck out of here and take her with you." "That's what I'm doing." Joshua offered me his hand, but I didn't take it. "I need to get my stuff," I told him with a scowl. "Butthead," I added for good measure. It made him smile. Every baffled expression and a few really angry ones followed me as I raced to the backroom and grabbed the pouch that held my stuff. Joshua was standing at the exit, hat in hand,
surrounded by Trent and his cousins. I pushed past Trent's cousin. Something told me I had been on my way to getting fired anyhow. Joshua took hold of my hand but before we walked out the door, he turned around and whistled loud enough to stop every conversation in the room. Trent's cousins looked ready to pummel him and I tugged his arm. But he stood his ground. "Hey, diners, if you want to know just what kind of a man the owner is just Google the name Trent Vandermeer. Now enjoy your meals." We pushed quickly out the door into the cool night air. I laughed and swung his hand back and forth as we walked toward the parking area. "Shit, I wish I'd thought of that. I wouldn't have even had to go through the job process." "Ah, people probably won't care. As long as the food and booze are good. I'm kind of surprised you left there without at least kicking the guy in the balls," Joshua said. I shrugged. "I stuck a dead cockroach under a customer's steak. He had been bragging to his friends about his new law firm position, and he was kind of an asshole. He seemed like the perfect recipient of the cockroach." Joshua laughed. It sounded so familiar. I hadn't forgotten one thing about him. It was all still crystal clear in my head. "And speaking of that," I said, "I'm kind of
surprised you didn't throw your fist at him since you were standing toe to toe with the guy." Joshua glanced down and nudged a cigarette butt out of the way with the toe of his boot. My words had made his mood darken. "I'm pretty sure if I threw my fist at him, the fight wouldn't have stopped until one of us was dead." I regretted even saying it. Joshua had a pretty good temper and I knew that. But he was also one of those rare guys who knew when to keep it in check. And he was right. If he'd thrown his fist, there would have been no possible happy ending. Which, I suppose, was exactly why he came to the restaurant to take me home. I was just going to end up in trouble. We stopped at the corner and he turned to me, his pale gaze held mine in a way that made everything around us fade away. He reached up and touched the side of my face and then pushed my hair back to see the tattoo on my neck. "Rebel, Rebel," he said quietly, and the sound of it took hold of my heart and squeezed it.
CHAPTER 14
JOSHUA
I
t was as if we'd been hanging out together these past few years, instead of being worlds apart. I'd never felt as comfortable with anyone, not even Emily. We'd driven our separate cars to the park in the center of town. I'd kept my eyes glued to the rearview, certain Rebecca would turn off and head in another direction. But she stayed behind me. I sat on the bench in the middle of the green, watching as Rebecca circled around the small gated rose garden. Most of the park lights had been shut off to discourage people from lingering there at night, but I could still see every curve and angle of her face. She was even more stunning than I remembered. And it seemed she was still unaware of it. Or, more likely, she just chose to ignore it. My phone beeped, and I pulled it out. "It's a
text from Dylan. He wants to know where the receipt book is. Sometimes I feel like I'm babysitting him. I'll let him know I'm with you." "No," she said abruptly as she rounded the garden wall to my side. She shook her shoulders. "It's just I have kind of wiped them from my mind. Everything got so messy in the end, with the divorce and . . . just don't say anything about me." I looked at her for a long moment before texting Dylan back about the receipt book. I slipped the phone into my pocket. I knew the family had fallen apart quickly, like a crumbling hillside, but I figured if nothing else, Rebecca had kept in contact with Michelle. Dylan never talked about her much, but then he rarely talked about anything that didn't center around him. Rebecca leaned over the wall to smell some pink roses, giving me a nice view of her long, sleek leg muscles. "I worked for a landscaper when I was with my dad in France. It was amazing. Lots of sunshine and everything was so green, like the earth there is different than here." She stopped and reached over to pluck a rose from the bush. It was half wilted, and the petals fell away from the stem as she touched it. "I almost got married when I was there." I quickly assured myself she'd said almost. How was it possible, after all this time, after all that had happened, that she could still make my entire body
react with every word, every turn of her head, every small breath she took in. "What happened?" I asked, hoping for the right answer. "I never really loved him. I just loved the idea of living in the countryside in some two hundred year old cottage away from here. Away from the past." "Away from me?" The question came from some other part of me, the cynical part of me that I used to keep my feet on the ground. The part that reminded me that deep down I was an asshole who would never deserve true love. "That was impossible." She brushed her fingers along the top of the garden wall. "You can't get away from someone who lives right here." She placed her hand over her heart. "I gave it a good fucking try though. I really did." My throat clamped painfully shut as I watched her circle back around to where I sat on the bench. She leaned against the garden wall and crossed her ankles. Like all the servers in Vandy's, she was wearing a short mini skirt. It was hard as hell not to just sit there and stare at her long legs. "Why did you come back from Europe?" "After the engagement fiasco, I just decided I'd had enough. My dad was busy with work and his new friends, so I decided to give him some space." Rebecca tilted her head to look at my right hand.
"Does it still hurt?" "Only when it rains or when I try to play a Jimi Hendrix song." I lifted it and showed her the fingertip side of my fist where all the fingers crossed each other at odd angles. "The doctor did a shitty job. But I guess I can't complain. At least it still works." I'd been staring at the ugly ridged scars on the back of my knuckles as I spoke. When I looked up, I met a pretty face that was far too often marred by sadness. "It's all right, Rebel. My music career was just keeping me from growing up." She stared at me with those eyes that always seemed to be looking right into my soul. I couldn't tell if it was the dim light in the park or just my imagination, but it seemed her eyes were wet with tears. "You didn't need to grow up, Josh. You just needed to be set free. Everyone kept you from living that dream. Your dad. My sister. Even your band mates. They gave up on it long before you did. But then you were always the real talent of the group." "I sure as hell wish things could have been different, Rebel." A breeze pushed through the trees. She momentarily lifted her face to feel it. "You know that saying about getting all your ducks in a row? Well, mine never want to line up. They just waddle all over the damn place, flapping their wings and quacking like a bunch of mad birds."
I smiled. "Yep, I think I've got some of those same ducks in my row." "But you and Dylan have started a business. It seems like you've finally tamed yourself into that guy Emily always wanted. Except for the long hair. Thank goodness for that." "Yep, I figured if I had to give up the music, at least I could keep the rock star hair." A moment of silence fell between us as we listened to some small critter skitter around in the rose bushes. Rebecca pulled her eyes away from the garden and looked at me. "Why did you come tonight, Josh? This was something I needed to do." "To what end? It's done. He served his time." I'd said the wrong damn thing. She pushed off and started walking along the cement pathway. "Glad it's so fucking easy for you." I stood from the bench and walked after her. "You think it's easy? You think I didn't want to ram my fist through his face the second I saw him? Do you know how much time I've spent imagining myself fucking strangling him until he turned blue?" I reached for her hand, but she pulled it away and backed up a few steps. Tear started as just a light glassy look in her eyes and turned into steady streams down her cheeks. "I need to know, Josh. I've heard so many fucking stories and rumors and Michelle didn't even want to look at me. That's why
the marriage fell apart. Michelle couldn't even fucking look at me. But I don't care about her or any of them. I just need to know you weren't breaking up with her because of me." The question didn't throw me off as much as the terrible heartbreaking sound of her sobs. "I need to know. I loved her. She was the only sister I ever had and I loved her." I walked to her, sure she would back away. But she stood still. She let me wrap my arms around her, and once I had her in my embrace, I drew her against me. She slowly circled her arms around me and rested her face against my shoulder, looking out toward the empty park. Her body shook with sobs. "I need to know if she was angry at me, when . . ." Still, after all this time, she couldn't bring herself to say it. I smoothed my palm over her back, along the soft worn fabric of the Iron Maiden t-shirt. "No, Rebecca. She wasn't mad at you. Emily left this world hating me."
CHAPTER 15
JOSHUA
Four years earlier
T
here was nothing unusual about the morning. The sky was a pasty blue and most of the front lawns in the neighborhood were a frazzled brown from a long, dry summer. My head was aching from the long night of music, beer and all of the usual bullshit that went with the end of summer party. Only last night's party would stay with me forever. I went home feeling numb from it all. It was just a kiss, but as Rebecca walked away, I was falling apart inside. Deep down, I knew that for me it had always been Rebecca. But that didn't matter. None of it mattered. I had to ignore that voice inside of me. I had to ignore those nerve pulses that went off
every time Rebecca stepped into a room or talked to me or even glanced my direction. Emily walked out of the house with her last bag. I couldn't even bring myself to look at her. My eyes flicked to the screen door on the front porch once more as I pushed Emily's bag into the trunk. There was no sign of Rebecca. Emily stood and waited for me to close the trunk, so I could circle to the passenger's side and open the door for her. I stopped and looked back at the house one last time. I briefly wondered if Rebecca was still sleeping, tired from the long night and too much beer. I wondered if she was wearing the t-shirt. I wondered if she was thinking about the kiss, like I had been all damn night and morning. "Aren't you going to say good-bye to everyone?" Emily pulled her dark sunglasses down from her head to cover her eyes before she looked at me. I was thankful for the opaque, black lenses. Somehow it was easier to live with myself if I didn't have to look directly into her eyes. "I've said my good-byes. Besides, I'm close by. Remember? I stayed in town because of us?" For the rest of her life, I was going to be the person who'd made her miss out on an exciting outof-state education. I didn't bother to respond because we'd already beat this particular dead horse to death a hundred times.
I opened the door and shut it hard enough to rattle the window. We drove in silence toward the freeway on ramp. I pushed it into fifth gear and headed across the lanes to the fast lane. The last thing I wanted was to sit through a long, moody car ride. There were a hundred things I needed to tell her, but I started with the stupidest of all. "Em, we don't need to keep this going." I kept my eyes trained on the road ahead, knowing eye contact was only going to make this harder. It was something I had needed to say all damn summer. And it had nothing to do with Rebecca. Or at least I was sticking with that because my conscience wouldn't let me stray into the muddy waters that seemed to be rising higher and higher around me. "I'm not following," she said innocently, which was bullshit because she was one of the smartest people I knew. "You're going off to college, and I'm going on tour with a band." "I'm not a freshman. It's hardly the first time I've gone off to college." She was purposely ignoring my point. She grabbed her purse and pulled out the lavender scented lotion she always slathered on her hands. "Yes, it's not the first time. But every damn time you leave, you remind me that you picked the
college because of me. Obviously I've been holding you back in life, and maybe you've been holding me back too." I stopped and waited for the response, knowing full well that I'd just dropped a major bomb on her. "I haven't held you back. It's those loser friends of yours that held you back." The car filled with the heavy floral scent of her moisturizer as she brusquely rubbed it not just on her hands but all over her arms. "Don't you feel it?" The car shifted over the dots between the lanes as I turned to look at her. I pulled the car back into its lane, and as I shifted my face back to the road, I spotted the big chrome truck bumper in my rearview. I only needed a glimpse of the driver to know he was an asshole. The whole damn drive was making me grip the steering wheel as if my life depended on it. "Feel what?" she asked lightly, knowing full well what I meant. "You're just in that weird mood again where I don't understand a damn thing you're saying. Did you smoke a joint before you came over?" "What? Fuck. No, I didn't smoke a joint. You don't feel like things are coming apart? It's like we're just going through the motions because everybody else expects us to be together. It's as if we got stuck in this mold, and we can't break out." My eyes lifted to the rearview. Asshole in big truck
was so close I could just about count his fucking nose hairs. A lost and confused motor home driver had decided ten miles under the limit was the perfect rate of speed for the fast lane, and he was clueless about the line of cars behind him. I moved into the next lane, managing to avoid eye contact with Emily as I checked for cars. She continued with her lotion, spreading it along her legs. The overwhelming fragrance made my head hurt more. I rolled down the window. Emily huffed angrily as she reached up to tie her hair in a knot at her neck. "Why are you opening the window?" "Because you are slathering that shit on like butter on a Thanksgiving turkey." "You used to like the smell of it. I guess everything about me repels you." She sat back and screwed the cap on. Her upper lip was quivering, which meant she was either angry or about to cry. Might have been both. "That's just silly, Em. You know how important you are to me. It's just—" Her phone beeped. "Just leave it for a second," I said, feeling more frustrated with each passing moment. She ignored me and leaned down to find the phone in her oversized purse. Asshole in big truck gave up on the fast lane.
He swooped in behind me and pressed his silver chrome bumper close to mine. I put my arm outside, smacked the side of my car and leaned my head out. "Get the fuck off of my tail, asshole!" I pulled my head back inside, waiting for a lecture about road rage from Emily. But she was staring at her phone. The lip quiver had slowed, but her face was smooth and pale. She looked at me. From behind, I could hear tires screech as the asshole finally got the hint to go around me. "Em? What's wrong?" "Mindy just texted me." Her voice was weak, and the quiver came back to her lips. "You kissed Rebecca?" My mouth dropped open but before I could find the right words, the silver paint on the asshole’s truck blinded me as he swept past the passenger window. My throat went dry. It took me a second to convince myself the gun barrel pointing our direction was real. "Em!" I pushed her head down. The asshole's face turned back toward my tire and the gun followed. Oddly, I thought about how it was the first time I'd ever heard a gun being fired. The explosion that followed was my tire. I took my foot off the gas as my car spun out of control. The cloud of lavender was tinged with burnt rubber as I tried to gain control of my wildly out of
control car. My foot was no longer on the gas. The rear end fishtailed around, and the world outside blurred as I steered into it. Then, out of nowhere, like a big ambling rusty edged monster, the motor home rolled toward the passenger side. I reached for Emily, thinking somehow I could stop her from being hurt. Her scream felt like shards of glass cutting through me. I yelled out as my hand was twisted and turned and crushed. My head smacked sharply against the side window and blackness swallowed me.
MY PILLOW FELT UNUSUALLY hard and my bedroom was filled with strange voices and blinking lights as I opened my eyes. A searing pain shot up my arm. It seemed to come from my hand but I couldn't actually feel my hand. I had fallen asleep on it during my bad dream. "Sir, we are going to cut you out of there now." My head cleared just enough for me to comprehend that I was not in my bedroom. I looked around at the terrified faces staring in through the broken glass at me. Where the hell was I? I pushed up from the odd angle I was sitting and I found myself tangled in a white puffy parachute. The airbag. It was my airbag. The nightmare crept back
in tiny bits. The argument. The asshole in the truck. The gun. The motor home. My neck was stiff, and I could barely move my head. "Fuuck," I groaned. Without lifting my head from my seat, I reached over to the passenger seat for Emily. But nothing felt right. I rolled my head over. The seat was gone and the side of my car had been carved away. My hand was draped across the console, only I wasn't completely sure it was my hand or if it was a hand at all. It was a mangled mass of flesh, bone and blood. The jarring sound of metal being cut brought me more to my senses. "Where's Emily?" I asked the fireman keeping an eye on me. "Where's my girlfriend?" "Let's just worry about getting you out of there first. What's your name?" "It's Josh. And my girlfriend is Emily. Is she all right? Did they already take her to the hospital?" The side panel of my car was lifted away, and two paramedics helped me out of the car. My knees collapsed but I caught myself. A paramedic immediately wrapped a large towel around my hand, more, it seemed, to shield it from view than anything. They rolled the gurney up to the car. I was still having a hard time believing the scene around me. Cars were stopped for miles back on the freeway.
The motor home now hobbled by its injuries had been pushed into the emergency lane. The driver and his wife, an elderly couple, looked so shaken, it seemed they might not recuperate. Red emergency vehicles were parked in every free section along the emergency lane. I couldn't see Emily. I hoped she was already on her way to the hospital. "The truck," I said to the paramedic as I sat on the gurney. "It was a silver pick-up truck. The guy shot out my tire." "Yes, the witnesses have already reported the entire incident to the police. They've already arrested the man." "Where's Emily? Is she on her way to the hospital? I should be with her." And then more of the last minutes came back to me. She had gotten a text just before the accident. She knew about the kiss. "I need to see my girlfriend, please." The two paramedics exchanged worried glances. The expressions on their faces sent a cold chill through my blood. "What the fuck is going on?" I twisted around to get a better look at the scene. "Josh, please sit still so we can help you." Before they could stop me, I hopped off the gurney. "Just fucking need to see Emily." I gripped my towel wrapped hand against me. Some of the feeling was coming back, and it felt as if sharp spears were being thrown at it from every direction.
The paramedics followed after me. "Sir, if we could just get you to sit on the gurney." Their voices faded into the distance. Everything disappeared except the gurney sitting in the back of the ambulance. The gurney that was draped with white sheets. "A little help here," I heard a paramedic call as he tried to take as gentle hold of me as possible. Two police officers joined him in their effort to corral me. I pushed against them as they tried to shield me from running to the ambulance. "Is that her? Is that Emily? Fucking tell me! Is that Emily?" Onlookers covered their faces and looked away to hide what they already knew. "Somebody fucking answer me!" The police officer who had a grip on my good arm lifted his sunglasses and looked me right in the eye. This was something he'd done before. This wasn't new to him. "I'm very sorry, your girlfriend was pronounced dead at the scene." The words circled my throbbing head, but I couldn't let them in. If I did, then they'd be true and Emily would be gone. And that was impossible. That was fucking impossible. "Let's get you back to the gurney," I heard someone say, but I couldn't tell which direction the voice came from. I had no sense of direction. Up and down seemed to be switching places like a teeter totter. My head was light and my gut was
heavy as if someone had opened my mouth and dropped in stones. Emily was gone and the last few minutes together were the worst of our entire relationship. And the kiss. The betrayal went with her. And then the weight of those invisible, heavy stones sank down lower in my stomach and took me down to my knees.
CHAPTER 16
REBECCA
I
felt drained, but I couldn't deny how good it felt to just cry, to just stand in the one pair of arms that had always provided me the most comfort and sob until I was thirsty and weak and my head ached. Joshua had stood silently, holding me until the meltdown passed. I knew darn well he'd shed some tears of his own, but he was quick to whisk them away before I caught on. His final words, just before I crumpled into a blubbering mess, assured me what I already knew. Joshua had suffered greatly in these past four years. His physical pain during the reconstruction of his hand was nothing more than a scratch compared to the emotional pain. We had all been so numb and dumbstruck at the funeral, we'd walked around like robots, moving stiffly, unable to make conversation or even look
each other in the eye. It seemed we were all just trying not to splinter apart into a million pieces. I was vaguely aware of Joshua's presence. They had let him out of the hospital for a few hours to attend the service. And as little as I remember of that awful day, I remember him standing there, leaning on his dad for support and vice versa, and he looked like a kid again. He looked lost and sad and shell shocked and young. Too young to experience so much pain and regret. Joshua had followed me back to my apartment just to make sure I got home all right. He climbed the stairs behind me to my door on the second floor. I put my key in the lock and turned around to face him. "Will you stay? Just until I fall asleep," I added quickly. "Of course I'll stay." Even the deep sound of his voice soothed me. I turned back to the key. "My apartment is pretty shabby, just to warn you. It's a studio, so I sleep in a sofa bed. And now I wish I'd made that darn bed this morning." I opened the door and turned on the light. Joshua stood in the small front room, his long hair crisscrossing his shoulders and looking every bit the hunky rock star with his smoldering blue gaze, tattoos and heavy facial hair. As much as it seemed Emily was always trying to change him, I knew she was head over heels in love with the man. Wild long hair and all. There was no way not to be.
It was hard to believe he was standing in the center of my crummy apartment. As much as I thought about him, I was sure I would never see him again. "I have some terrible tasting wine in the refrigerator." I shuffled into the kitchen, suddenly the nervous hostess who had an unexpected guest show up at her door. "No. If you have some soda, I'm good with a coke." "Diet all right?" I opened the refrigerator. His nose did that little shuffle to the side that every man did when I offered a diet soda. "I'll put lots of ice in the glass, and you won't even miss the sugar." I grabbed a glass from the cupboard and poured him the soda. "Make yourself comfortable. Sorry, but the couch disappears when I go to sleep." "Rebel, stop. You must think I'm living in some grand manor or something." He sat on one side of the bed and scooted back to lean against the couch pillows I had stuffed between the mattress and the back of the couch. It was a makeshift headboard that worked great for reading in bed and watching my tiny shoe box sized television set. "I'm just going to go into the bathroom and change. And put my treasured shirt away in its special place." Joshua laughed. "You don't really have a special place for that relic?"
"No." I smiled as I handed him the soda. "Only in my heart." I rushed into the bathroom to brush my teeth, wash my face and pull on my oversized sleeping t-shirt. It had a picture of Einstein on the front. The wild-haired genius stared back at me from the mirror as I swept a comb through my hair. I headed back out to the bed and realized that nothing had changed. I hadn't seen Joshua in a few years, but I still felt comfortable with him, like we'd been meeting up all this time instead of sitting off in our own corners of the world trying to absorb the past. I held out my arms to model my shirt. "I bought it with the hopes that I might wake up just a little smarter each morning. And I think it works." "Shit, if I get a shirt with Bill Gates on the front, maybe I could wake up a little smarter and a little richer each morning." I crawled onto the bed to sit next to Joshua and leaned against my seat cushion headboard. "Where are you living?" "My dad's house. I'm slowly bringing it back to its former glory, which isn't saying much." I realized so far everything had been about me. Typical Rebecca style, I silently chastised myself and my propensity to be utterly selfish. "Josh, I'm sorry about your dad. For awhile, after the shock and grief lessened, Michelle and I were still sending each other postcards when I was in Europe. She
told me about his death." I watched Joshua drink his soda and got temporarily distracted by the movement of his throat as he swallowed. He put the glass down on the small end table and rolled his head to look at me. "At least I had a few years to prepare for losing him. It's way different when you're not expecting it. I was just mad at myself for not being there more for him at the end. I was too busy feeling sorry for myself. Drowning my thoughts in whiskey and enough weed to take down an African elephant." He looked down at his hand. The fingers were all there but they had a lot of dips and bends that weren't natural. "Especially after the doctors cut me off the painkillers. I hate to say it, but those damn little pills helped me forget things for awhile. What a fucking sap I was trying to escape everything like that." I reached over and covered his hand with mine. I curled my fingers between the scars and twisted knuckles. He laughed quietly. "I still remember sitting in the exam room with all the x-rays hanging up around me on those lit up panels. Three doctors in their lab coats scratching their chins and looking unenthusiastic about tackling the mess. One of them, a cocky young guy who looked like he'd never had a hard or hungry day in his life, turned to
me with a smile and said, 'I sure hope you're not an artist or musician'." "What a jerk? What did you say?" “I shook my head and said, ‘Not anymore, I guess.’” I lifted his hand to get a closer look. The knuckles were all there, but the middle one stuck up a lot higher than the others. When his fingers curled down, they crossed each other at the tips. "Are you able to play at all?" If I hadn't already poured out every tear in my body I was sure I would have cried again. Anyone who knew Joshua knew that he was an entirely different person with a guitar in his hands. Music flowed from his fingers like it was stored inside of him. I used to love to watch his band practice. "Remember when I used to tease you, saying that you looked like you were in a trance when you played?" I asked. "I remember." I was still holding his hand, but he carried our clutched hands over to his mouth and kissed the back of my knuckles. "I remember everything about that bratty teenager I appropriately nicknamed Rebel." I could still feel the warmth of his kiss on my knuckles as he lowered our hands. I yawned and stretched. "After working two jobs, I'm exhausted. I'm kind of glad I don't have to go back to my night job. "
"You're welcome." "Even though I could have handled myself just fine with that jerk." "Uh huh." I rested my head against his shoulder. "Ol' Joshua, still always coming to my rescue. I've got to work tomorrow, so I won't keep you. I'll just take my pill to sleep." I reached over him to get the pills off my nightstand. Joshua wrapped his arm around my back and pulled me around and into his lap. "And why do you need pills to sleep?" I leaned my head against his shoulder, immediately relaxing against him. I'd missed so much about him, his voice, the smell of his skin. I couldn't stop myself from reveling in his embrace. "I have a hard time falling asleep sometimes. Even when I'm dead tired. Like tonight. I've had the problem for many years." I refused to let my mind go back to that time when my insomnia started. I was with Joshua, safe and sound in my apartment. "Let me see if I can help you skip the pill tonight." Joshua's hand smoothed over my back, along the soft cotton fabric of my shirt. I purred in satisfaction. He continued caressing me and started humming one of my favorite Nick Cave songs. I'd forgotten how amazing he sounded, even when he was just humming. My body relaxed
against him. I nestled closer, trying to breathe in his masculine scent, trying to hear his heartbeat. Each stroke of his hand sent warmth unfurling through me. He wasn't touching my breasts, but my nipples pushed urgently against the t-shirt wanting to be included. I arched my back hoping he'd get the hint. Joshua was always good at reading my mind. His beard brushed my face as he kissed my forehead. "My sweet Rebel," he said quietly as he slipped his free hand under my t-shirt. I could feel the scars on his palm as he smoothed it over my breasts. I turned my head and pressed my mouth against the fabric of his shirt and mewled a sound I'd been keeping buried deep in my throat. The tiredness in my head and body had heated into a luxurious state of arousal. The pulse that throbbed through me now centered in the heat of my pussy. And this wasn't just a lover or a man I dated between bouts of going crazy from loneliness. This was Joshua. "I've daydreamed about this," I said quietly, too heady with the pleasure of it to express the words distinctly. "I've daydreamed about you touching me, Joshua. I should be embarrassed to admit it, but I'm not." "I've thought about touching you often. I'd already memorized the feel of your skin and the curves of your body without ever laying my hands
on you." His thumb circled my nipple as I pushed against his hand. He began his low, sexy hum again. His hard body vibrated beneath me with each note. His beard brushed against my face as he ran his palm down over my belly and beneath my panties. There was no hesitation. Not from either of us. Even with a tiny voice telling me this wasn't right, it was impossible to turn off the physical stirrings. Especially when everything about it felt so damn right. I let my thighs fall open as his fingers slipped between the folds of my pussy. The humming slowed to a halting series of groans as the feel of my pussy seemed to push the breath from him. "Fuck, Rebel, why did you stay away from me so long?" His finger impaled me. I arched my back to take it in deeper. I cried out as he thumbed my clit into a heated frenzy. I gripped his shirt and rocked against the pressure of his hand. I clamped my thighs around his hand and turned my face against his shirt, drowning in his incredibly familiar scent as my body trembled with an orgasm. He kissed my forehead again as the waves of ecstasy shook me to the core. "Why did you stay away? I fucking needed you, Rebel. I needed you then. I need you now." His words floated around me as my pulse and breathing
slowed. "I needed you too," I whispered as I curled into the safe cradle of his arms and fell asleep.
CHAPTER 17
JOSHUA
T
he front door to the office building opened and Rebecca walked out. She was wearing faded jeans with holes at the knees and a white tank shirt. She looked fucking hot. The weary expression on her face washed into a bright smile when she saw me standing on the sidewalk. I held up the brown paper bag. "Peanut butter and jelly. And to complete the happy trigger—" I pulled the bag of potato chips out from behind my back. Rebecca released a half squeal, half cheer as she walked briskly toward me. She grabbed the paper bag, opened it and drew in a deep breath. "Heaven. Now if you pull out a package of pink Pop Rocks to go with it, I'll love you forever." "Actually—" I fished into my pocket and drew
out the slim packet of candy. "I'm going to hold you to that promise." "That won't be a problem." She smiled. "I wasn't expecting you. I was already feeling sorry for myself for having to work on Saturday, and I was sure my Saturday night was going to make my morning of work look like a trip to the Bahamas." "Well then, consider that comparison null and void because we have PB and J and Pop Rock shooters waiting for us." I glanced back at the insurance building as we walked down the sidewalk. "It looks awfully quiet around here. Were you the only person working?" "Yes, which was actually kind of nice. And for an added bonus, I got to dress like a slob. Office managers need to realize that employees would be a lot more productive if they could show up to work in couch potato gear. But that's not why I got behind. I had to take a few afternoons off for training on my new ex-job. And Irene, the boss at this job, is just one step above Trent Vandermeer on the human likability scale." "Charming. How do people like that make it to the top?" We reached my car. "Where should we go? I've got the whole day and night off. Unless some major fiasco calls me back to work. Dylan isn't great with fiascos. We could go to Camden Beach, and I'll show you what I've done . . ." She was shaking her head at my suggestion
before I’d even finished. "I can't go back there, Josh." Her voice was tight. "Too many memories. I hope you don't mind if we just stay in the city." I brushed my hand along her arm to let her know I understood completely. "So should we head back to your place with our dinner or maybe the park? Although I forgot to bring drinks, and I guess those are sort of necessary with peanut butter." Her smile returned. "I believe a drink is required. Follow me back to my squalid little apartment. I've got milk."
CHAPTER 18
JOSHUA
R
ebecca hurried in ahead of me. She straightened the sheets and blankets on the sofa bed and balled up a bra that was hanging off the back of the kitchen chair. "Wasn't expecting company." She disappeared into the tiny hallway that led to the bathroom and jammed the bra into one of the built-in drawers. I followed her into the postage stamp sized kitchen. She leaned into the refrigerator and as her shirt inched up, exposing some skin, I caught a glimpse of a tattoo on her hip. It was a vine of flowers, and it sent my pulse into overdrive. I'd held Rebecca in my arms for at least an hour the night before, after she had fallen asleep. After bringing her to orgasm with my finger, holding her in my arms, while she wiggled her nose, fluttered her lashes and occasionally repositioned herself had
been pure torture. But as badly as I wanted her, I forced myself to go home. I lowered her down onto her mattress, covered her with a blanket and tiptoed out of her apartment. All the while having to fight the terrible urge to run back and climb into bed with her. It was Rebecca, I told myself over and over again on the drive home. Then during the long night of thinking about holding her, thinking about how her body reacted to my touch, thinking about the fucking hot sounds she made as she came against my hand, I reminded myself . . . it was Rebecca. And then it occurred to me. It was Rebecca. She was the one person who had always understood me. The one person who I'd thought more about than anyone on earth. The only person I'd ever needed. Rebecca put the container of milk on the counter and reached into the cupboard for glasses. I walked behind her and pressed my hands down on the tile, trapping her between the counter and my body. She turned around to face me. "I know if we over think this we could find all kinds of reasons for me to walk out of here. But now that you're back in my life, I don't want to over think it or rationalize it. Because there has never been anything rational about my feelings for you, Rebel. But this is all on you. If you want me to leave, then just say the word and I'll go." "Oh, Josh." She threw her arms around my
neck, and I pulled her against me as our mouths met. Her lips parted, and I deepened my kiss as I gripped her tightly in my embrace. Then the urgency took us into clumsy strip mode. I yanked the shirt off of her and tossed it aside. I broke away from the task of unbuttoning her jeans just long enough for her to lift my shirt up and off. She pushed my shorts off next. By the time she was down to just a bra and panties, I was nearly out of my fucking mind with wanting her. My cock strained against my boxer briefs. Rebecca threw her hands around my neck, and I lifted her into my arms. Her long legs wrapped around me, and I carried her out to the front room. "Hey look, a bed," I muttered against her mouth. I lowered her down on the mattress. She bent her long legs at the knees. She bit the teasing smile on her lip as she dropped her knees open. I didn't need any further invite. I crawled onto the bed and yanked her panties down. "Fuck, Rebel, I'm going to come just looking at you. I'll get a condom." "No," she said abruptly. My heart sank. "It's all right. I understand if you've changed your mind." She reached up for my arm. "No, I haven't. No condom. I'm on the pill." She tugged me, urging me
closer. She curled her hand around the back of my head and tangled her fingers in my hair as she kissed me. Her tongue dragged across my bottom lip. "I don't want there to be anything between us, Josh. Just the two of us, with you buried deep inside of me," she whispered. "That's all I want." I kissed her hard. Her words had sent me into overdrive. My cock sprang free as I shoved my underwear down below my hips. I stopped the kisses long enough to watch her face as I pushed into her. I couldn't count how many damn times I'd imagined gazing down at her with her naked beneath me. Her long lashes drifted shut. She pressed her head back into the blankets as she lifted her hips up to meet me. Our movements were slow and cautious at first. We were both absorbing the reality of what was happening. She opened her green eyes and touched the side of my face. "Is this real, Joshua? Or am I in a dream?" "It's both, baby. It's fucking both." I rocked harder against her, and she wrapped her legs around me to take me in farther. I had to work hard not to come as her hot pussy milked me toward orgasm. I slowed my thrusts to long, sweeping motions. "Yes," she sighed, "Yes." She reached down and grabbed my ass with her hands holding me tighter against her as I rocked deep inside of her. Her eyes
closed and a pink silky sheen colored her skin as her pussy clenched tightly around me. She cried out as I pumped into her, driving out every sensation, every pulse of pleasure. With her body trembling beneath mine, I could no longer hold back. I gripped her harder in my arms as I came deep inside of her. I held her as our breathing slowed and the heat swirling around us cooled some. I lowered myself onto the mattress next to her. We stared up at the ceiling in a long stretch of silence. "Holy shit, Rebel." My voice came out rougher and lower than I expected. She turned to me and draped her arm and leg over my body as she rested her head in the crook of my arm. "Yeah, that pretty much sums it up."
CHAPTER 19
REBECCA
W
e sat in our underwear at my two person kitchen table and ate peanut butter and jelly on a bed of potato chips. Joshua watched in curious silence as I lifted the top slice of bread and sprinkled some Pop Rocks onto the peanut butter layer. I looked up at his amused face. "It needed a little kick." I picked up the sandwich and took a bite. "Perfect." I took a gulp of milk and winced at the taste. "Or maybe not. Apparently Pop Rocks and milk are like toothpaste and orange juice. Incompatible." Joshua laughed as he leaned back against the creaky wooden chair. I'd found the entire set of table and two chairs at a yard sale. It wasn't until I got it all the way up the stairs, by myself, that I discovered the legs of the table wobbled and the chairs creaked.
"Hey, I've got tomorrow off. Why don't we rent one of those crummy little cottages at Seaside Cove? We could drive there tonight." He stretched his muscular arms up and placed his hands behind his head. The dark pits of hair only added to the overall sensual look. "That'd be fun." I tilted my head to get a good look at him shirtless. His long hair draped over a pair of shoulders and arms that were a lot bigger than I remembered. And he'd added some tattoos to his chest and arms. But everything else about him was familiar. He was still Joshua. "Why does this feel so natural?" I asked. "I haven't seen you in a few years, but I feel like we've been together all this time." "I feel the same way." Then I let my mind travel to that gray zone, that place where it would be too easy, as Joshua warned, to over think this. I switched to a new topic. "Guess what my dad did? He bought a vineyard in Portugal. He's getting out of the international trade business. He made some good money these past few years, and he decided to invest in a vineyard. He's going to be a winemaker. Can you believe it? My dad is suddenly a big time, adventure loving risk taker." "Shit, that sounds cool." "I'll show you a picture." I walked over to my purse to pull out my phone, well aware of the
heated gaze on my back. "Did your dad ever remarry?" "Heck no." I turned around and leaned against the counter to scroll through the pictures on my phone. "I think that's why he's having so much fun now. He gets to make his own decisions. He said two marriages were enough. Look. It's overlooking a river." I stood in front of him and showed him the phone. "Have you ever seen anything so beautiful?" Joshua paused. "Never," he said in a husky tone, "and the vineyard is nice too." He took the phone from my hand and put it down on the table. He took hold of my hips and spread his knees so he could pull me closer. He pressed his mouth against my stomach, and I combed my fingers through his hair, holding his face against me. His fingers dragged down my panties and they dropped to my ankles. His mouth left a long, hot trail of kisses on my skin and then he kissed the mound of my pussy. Big strong hands wrapped around my ass and spread me wide as he coaxed me to climb onto his lap. The chair sounded like a hundred-year-old creaky door beneath us. Joshua's pale eyes lifted to my face. "Any way this chair can withstand both of us?" "Not a chance." "You need some better chairs." He stood up and led me back to the bed. He pushed off his
underwear and sat back against the couch cushion headboard. His cock swayed back and forth, shiny with moisture. He reached for my hand and tugged me forward. I knelt on the bed and straddled his lap. He smoothed his hands around my back, pushed my bra straps down and brought my breasts against his mouth. Once again, I tangled my fingers into his hair to hold him against me. His tongue flicked against my nipples, and he took each one gently between his teeth, teasing them to tight buds. His cock pushed urgently at my pussy, looking for the sweet spot. I reached down between my legs and took hold of him. His groan vibrated my breasts as I rubbed the slick tip against my pussy. I closed my eyes and played with him, stroking my clit with his hot wet erection. His natural lube mingled with mine, and his cock nearly slipped from my grasp as I rubbed it against my pussy. He growled and lifted his pale, heavy lidded gaze to me. "You're going to spend all the fun before we even get started." "Hmm, this feels awfully good," I sighed. "But I suppose you're right." Without another word, I settled down over his cock. His fingers dug into my hips as I took him in farther and farther. "Rebel, my hot beauty. I knew you would feel like this. I knew you'd feel like you belonged here, with me buried inside of you." He dropped his
mouth to my breasts again as I lifted and lowered myself over him. His words and the extreme intimacy of the moment unleashed feelings I'd been holding tight, feelings that were waiting to be set free. I kept my eyes closed around the tears that filled them as I climaxed around Joshua, his cock penetrating me over and over again, his hands holding me firmly in his grasp and his face pressed against my breasts. "Fuck, baby," he groaned as he reached release along with me. I relaxed down and put my head against his strong shoulder. It had been a shoulder I leaned on more than once growing up. I stayed like that, straddling his lap, his cock still inside of me, as he stroked my back with his fingertips. Evening had taken over day, and the shadows in my tiny apartment stretched thinner. I traced the edge of his shoulder tattoo, a Les Paul guitar, with my finger. "Can we just stay like this forever? In each other's arms?" "Yes and yes. Fuck yes." He tightened his arms around me and twirled me around and onto the mattress. We stretched out, facing each other. He pushed my hair back from my face. "Yes, Rebel, stay with me forever. You've already been with me all this time. Just stay with me." I snuggled closer to him rubbing my nose against his chest and breathing in the scent of him.
His arms closed around me. I wriggled even closer, feeling every muscular ridge of his hard body. I released a long satisfied sigh. There was so much baggage with the notion of us being together that it hurt my head to think about it. "If only it were that easy, Josh."
CHAPTER 20
JOSHUA
A
musty, briny smell hit us as we opened the door. "Whoa, this place is even worse than I remember." I walked to the front window and slid it open to let in the fresh night air. Rebecca walked to the small refrigerator and put the beer and wine inside. "At least the fridge is cold. I used to go to school with the girl whose grandfather owned these cottages. I think after he died, the rest of the family wasn't interested in investing much time or money into the place." She walked around to the front window to breathe in the sea air with me. "This place could rake in big money if it was done up right." Rebecca smiled at me. "Oh my gosh, what an establishment kind of guy you are now. Thinking
about big money and business. Kind of miss the disaffected, too-cool-for-school rock star." "Uh, I hate to break the bubble, but a lot of my rock star dreams had me driving million dollar cars and hanging out at the pool of my mansion. So that establishment guy was there. I just didn't show him much." Rebecca stared out at the cove. "It's so dark out there. I wonder if any of the other cottages are rented. Guess it's a little past prime season. Hey, let's pull the comforter off the bed and sit out on the beach." "Won't that make the bed kind of sandy?" She shrugged. "We could skip the comforter, but I was thinking we could strip naked under it." "I'll get the comforter. You lose the panties."
THE COMFORTER BILLOWED around us like an unstable tent as my tongue stroked Rebecca's clit. My hands pushed her ass higher so I could devour her and taste every inch of her. She gripped my hair tighter as I slipped my fingers through the slick moisture pooling between the folds and impaled her. Her cries ricocheted off the pillowed comforter as she came in shuddering waves against my mouth.
I rose up and lowered myself over her, pumping my cock into her while the sensations were still fresh. She gripped my arms as I moved fast and furious inside of her. It didn't take long. Tasting her pussy had already brought me close to the edge. I groaned and stiffened, spilling my hot seed into her while she ran her hands over my shoulders and back. "I'm going to be sore as heck on Monday," she said with a sigh. "Delightfully sore." I laughed as I rolled off and stretched out next to her. I lifted up on my elbow and traced small circles on Rebecca's skin. She shivered as if it tickled, but it might have had more to do with the brisk night air hovering above the cold sand. She reached for the sweatshirt she'd worn out to the beach, but I stopped her from putting it on. "Wait, I'm still having fun looking at you with only the moonlight filtering through the comforter." I leaned down and kissed the hollow between her breasts. "God, you are stunning, Rebel. In every damn form of light." I held the sweatshirt, and she sat up to let me help put it on. She'd walked out to the sand in just her panties and oversized sweatshirt. I tucked Rebecca firmly between my thighs. I pulled the corners of the comforter out from beneath the rocks, which I'd used like tent stakes, and brought it around my shoulders. Rebecca's bottom nestled back far enough to push against my cock. We'd just
had sex, and I was ready again. I was never, ever going to have enough of her. I wrapped the blanket around us and kept her cocooned against me as we stared out at the cove. School had started already, and fall was closing in fast, which meant the cove would be mostly deserted for the next six months. The cove was too small for big boats, but beach visitors used it to kayak and paddleboard when the weather was nice. The dilapidated cottages, mostly dark and empty, circled around the south side of the cove. While jagged rocks lined the north end. "My dad used to take me here in the summer, but I think I like this place better in the fall. It feels almost like a deserted island." "I have to agree." Rebecca pushed her hair back and looked over at the outcropping. "Emily and I used to love to spend time on those rocks. The tide always left behind all kinds of critters." Her body softened in my grasp, and she grew quiet, closing the blanket tighter around her. "I don't think I've even said her name out loud in a long time. I say it all the time in my head but . . ." "I know what you mean." I could feel her drawing in on herself, trying to feel smaller in my arms. "Rebel, we can figure this out. I'm not sure how yet, but I think it's worth trying." She nodded and rested more against me. "I
remember when Dad and I moved in with Michelle and Emily." "And Dylan," I added unnecessarily. "Yes, but he was always in and out of the house, so I never really thought much about him. At first, things were a little awkward between all of us. But we kind of got in a groove. Emily seemed to understand that I had it harder than her. Sure, we were both adjusting to the new life, but I’d had to leave my home and my old friends. So I was starting from scratch. Without Emily's support, that would have been much harder. And then . . ." She shook her head. "Never mind. I'm getting tired, and when I get tired, I ramble." "You're not rambling. It's nice to hear this stuff about Emily. At the end, we were having so many problems. It seemed like we were both slowly finding out that the school age romance was more fantasy than real. We were so different. Too different. And it frustrated Em that she couldn't mold me more to what she wanted. Now I just feel shitty that I couldn't make her happy. I was hanging on to that rock and roll dream way too hard. I might as well have been dreaming about becoming an astronaut." Rebecca shifted sideways some and looked at me. "Not true. That dream was within reach. Just too many things got in the way." I pushed her hair back behind her ear and ran
my finger around the tiny diamond stud in her ear. "You were always my most supportive fan, Rebel." She smiled faintly. "And you were the one person who I considered my truest friend. I think I would have had an easier time of things if I'd been able to at least stay near my closest friend. But things got tense fast between my dad and Michelle. I had a hard time not blaming myself for it. It seemed Michelle just couldn't bear to look at me, knowing her own daughter was never coming home." She turned again so she was facing the water. With no one else out on the sand and the cove basically deserted, even of the usual wildlife that crept about and hovered over it during the day, the scene was a little like a painting. Just slim white caps on the water and the still shadows of night giving the surrounding rocks an eerie silhouette. "After Dad and I left, my whole life felt fragile and unstable, as if everything I knew and everyone I cared about had vanished into some fictional chapters in my life. I could walk on the sidewalk but never feel like I was being held there by gravity. Nothing about my life was solid anymore. And being whisked off to a place that was so far removed from my old life and so far away from everything I ever knew, made me feel even more lost." She shuffled closer and grew quiet as if she was considering whether or not to continue. Her soft voice floated up and mingled with the constant
rush of the water. "Just a year after the accident, I was in England with my dad, I stepped off a curb. A bus was torpedoing toward me, but some guy, just a man on a street in a white shirt and black slacks, yanked me back. I pretended that I'd looked the wrong direction. You know, silly Americans with their backward driving lanes. The man and the onlookers looked terrified, but they laughed nervously about it and told me I wasn't the first to make that mistake." Her shoulders lifted and fell with a deep breath. "But it wasn't a mistake. I did it on purpose. I just thought it seemed like a fast way out. I actually went to a psychologist for awhile, when I was in Europe. My dad didn't know. I'm learning to deal with things now." I kissed her shoulder. "Thank God for the man in black slacks." I thought back to some of my lowest moments after the accident. The bottle of pain pills was supposed to last me a month, but many times I thought about taking them all at once. That way all the pain would be gone. Not just the pain in my hand. I'd been the person behind the wheel. I'd been the person to rage at Trent. I'd been the one to hurt Emily, to break her heart. "Rebecca, Emily loved you until the end. You had nothing to do with that awful day." She didn't respond, but I sensed there was something more, something eating her up from the inside. But it seemed she wasn't going to talk about
it. "You and I—" I started and then realized the sentence could head in so many directions because even though I had been with Emily, there had always been Rebecca and me. Even when we were too young to even think about anything more than a good friendship, we were always connected to each other. "We never did anything behind Emily's back. I was a faithful boyfriend, and you were a loyal sister. Even though there was this unexpected and confusing energy between us, neither of us did anything wrong. We both loved her, and we both kept true to her." "Until that kiss." She scooted away from me and leaned down to watch her toes dig in the sand. "I was drunk and I was really upset by Gregory grabbing me. Then you hit him. Those were a wild few minutes, and they sort of kicked me out of my senses. But I still shouldn't have kissed you." She rested back against me. "I'm just glad Emily never found out about it." I stiffened and had to work hard to loosen up the breath that had jammed in my chest. Every detail of that horrific day constantly floated back to me in tiny, blurred scenes in my sleep and sometimes during my daydreams. But the one detail that came back every time, like a loud clanging bell, was the moment Emily looked at me and asked if I had kissed Rebecca. It was the hardest,
most bitter moment of my life to swallow, and I still hadn't found a way to deal with it. Rebecca nudged me with her elbow. "Josh? Are you falling asleep back there?" She forced a lighter tone, but her voice wavered. My arms still felt heavy as I tightened them around her. "With you sitting in my arms? Never." She turned to look at me. "It's getting kind of cold. Maybe we should see if there are any good movies on that little television in the front room. And I think I could use some of that wine."
CHAPTER 21
REBECCA
I
pulled the red licorice vines out of the paper bag. "That was a brilliant idea of yours to buy candy to go with the wine and beer." I shoved the red candy in my mouth and yanked off a sweet leathery bite. Joshua was messing with the remote, trying to find some decent channels. "As I recall, the candy was your idea." "Then I was the brilliant one. I've never outgrown my sweet tooth." I walked out with the box of licorice and dropped it on the coffee table. Dust popped up from the couch cushions as I plopped down on it. I waved my hand to clear the air. The furniture and the cheesy decor hadn't changed in the years since we'd stayed in the cottages for a family trip. It had been out of date and faded then, but now, the room decor was
positively shabby. "It's as if the owners of these cottages aren't even trying anymore. Almost as if they wish a giant tsunami would just barrel in from the cove and wipe the place out." "Well, it looks like the old movie channel is the only thing that comes in clearly." Joshua took note of the decor too. "Guess ancient black and white movies sort of work for this place." He walked over and sat down. He'd pulled on shorts, but stayed shirtless, which was more than acceptable to me. I immediately wrapped my arm around his once he sat down. He plucked a red licorice rope from my fingers and chewed on it like an old cigar. "A hotel chain or real estate investor should buy it. They could offer them good money and take it over. With some serious cash flow, this place could be awesome. It has the best location on this stretch of the coast. Although, maybe the family doesn't want the place to go too commercial." Joshua leaned back and pulled his arm free of my grasp so he could drop it around my shoulder. We both stared absently at the movie credits as out of tune theme music played through the shoddy speakers. "I think this is one of those old horror flicks with the weird white makeup and creepy haunted house sets. A vampire thing or something." "Cool. Sometimes I like the old stuff better than the new. Especially because the new stuff is mostly
just computer graphics." I rested my head against him. We had fallen so easily back into each other's lives. "So, tell me more about your job at the insurance company," Joshua said. "Ugh. There is nothing to tell. Horrid boss, boring work with the only bright spot being the muffin lady who brings through melt in your mouth banana nut muffins. I'm just there to keep a roof over my head until that big amazing job break falls out of the sky. I have to admit, I was making some pretty darn good tip money at the jerk's restaurant." "Uh, yeah, with those legs and that mini skirt, I'll bet." I dipped out from his arm and socked his shoulder. "Excuse me, but I was also doing a good job." "With the exception of the cockroach under the steak." I leaned back into his embrace, not wanting to be away from the warmth or scent of him for too long. "Well, there was that. I wonder if he ever found the thing or maybe he just plowed through it, steak sauce and all." "Yuck. I think I'll avoid steak for awhile. And I'm sure your legs were only part of the tips. You've always been able to charm everyone. My dad adored you. I'll never forget that day I came home from band practice and the two of you were busy
chatting and laughing away while you raked up leaves in the front yard." "Uh huh, the leaves you were supposed to rake. I liked your dad a lot." "He was such a character. Besides me, you were one of the few people who got him and his quirks." I thought about his dad and that cool fall day we'd spent raking his yard. The memory was definitely one of my happy triggers. "Your dad got me too. He knew I had a big crush on you. I think he knew it long before I did. But he was sworn to secrecy, I assure you." Joshua looked over at me. "Yeah? He once told me he thought I was more suited to you than Emily. I guess he was trying to give me a hint. The man was an easy chair genius." The movie was grainy, and it seemed like the pictures weren't fluid, as if they were being shown on some old time movie projector that halted for a fraction of a second between frames. I laughed. "I like nostalgia and vintage stuff as much as the next person, but this movie should have been put back in the can and left in the old movie vault for good." "I'll bet back in the day, people were watching this flick through their fingers the way I've seen you do when you’re watching one of those slasher movies."
"I do not. Only when a head is about to come off. I can handle stabbing and other limbs being shorn from the body, but when the head comes off, I'm done. I still remember that one Halloween when the theater was showing the original Halloween movie at midnight." Joshua laughed. "You and Emily were clutching each other, trying to hide your faces from the screen and then—who was that guy you were seeing at the time, the dickwad who always wore too much aftershave?" I turned to him with a scowl. "His name was Cody, and he wasn't a dickwad. He was actually pretty nice. You just found fault with everyone I ever dated." "Sure as hell did." He pulled me into his arms again. "I just remember dickwad and I decided to sneak to the other side of the theater while you two were hiding your faces in your jackets. Then we watched you freak out after you pulled your heads out and found we were gone. That was a good one. It was dickwad's idea, so maybe he was better than most of the dickwads you hung out with." "Butthead." I relaxed against him, and he trailed his fingers along my arm. I stared at the television, not really noticing what was on the screen. My mind had floated back to that night in the theater, with Emily. "Josh"—instantly my throat tightened—"how will this work? We have this huge
history together, but in the middle of that history is Emily. She's at the center of our past. And I don't want to ignore or forget any of the time I spent with her." "I don't either." He pulled me closer and kissed the top of my head. "I think we'll both have to face this our own way. I don't want to lose any of the past or any part of Emily. I still carry her with me wherever I go. But you're there too. And now that I've got you back in my life, Rebel, I don't want to lose you." I pulled his arm tighter around me. "This does feel right, Josh." As much as it felt wrong, I thought but didn't say aloud.
CHAPTER 22
JOSHUA
were ignoring my texts." Dylan heaved a "Y ou crate of beer onto the counter. I continued to wipe the glasses clean, stacking them back in the racks along the bar. "I wasn't ignoring them. I read them to make sure the place wasn't on fire. But you seemed to have shit under control, so I just didn't respond." Dylan turned and leaned against the counter and tossed a lemon back and forth in his hands. "You're smiling, so you finally got some. Did you meet someone at the conference?" "Nope." "Well, did you at least learn something? That ticket was three hundred bucks." "Then the bagels should have been fresher." I looked up at him. "I did learn something. Considering we were both fairly new at this when
we started, it seems we've done a pretty good job. We've been doing most of the stuff that the presenters talked about." "Huh.” He nodded. "Good for us. Guess that's why that one suit keeps coming in here and asking if we're interested in selling the place." I put the glass I was drying down on the rack. "What suit?" "Some dude in a nice suit. I've seen him in here before. On Saturday, we were short on help because Penny called in sick." My face shot up. "What did you do?" He held out his hands. "Nothing. Fuck. She said she caught a cold at school." "Yeah because she still goes to school. Because she's too damn young to be working here." I waved off the topic. "Finish your story." "Yeah, thanks," he said gruffly. "I was waiting tables, and I was serving him his beer. He asked if I was the owner and I said yeah. Then he said he had investors interested in buying the place." "Yeah? Well, did you tell him to fuck off?" "Nope, I took his card. You never know." "Whatever. Guess that's true." I thought about Rebecca saying that she could never return to Camden Beach, but I was sure I could convince her to change her mind. I knew the place was filled with memories, both good and bad. I understood how Rebecca felt. After I moved back home, I
realized that there was hardly any place in town that didn't remind me of Emily. But if Rebecca couldn't bring herself to ever come back to Camden Beach, that was going to make everything harder. Dylan started slicing lemons. "You never said where you went this weekend." "I went to the beach." I turned and walked away to get a new towel and to let him know that was all the information he was going to get out of me. I wasn't ready for a conversation about Rebecca. In fact, I wasn't completely sure I'd ever be ready to talk to Dylan about it. I had no doubt he'd be pissed and consider it a betrayal to his sister. Dylan was just another layer of complication in a heavy duty confused mess. It seemed as long as we didn't try and reason it out and discuss semantics, Rebecca and I were happy as hell to be back in each other's lives. At least I knew I was happy to have her back. I'd convinced myself long ago that she was gone for good, and it was still feeling a little unreal. My phone rang as I grabbed a clean, dry towel from the cabinet. I reached into my back pocket, but it was empty. I'd left it on the bar counter. I headed back out with the towel. Dylan was standing with my phone in his hand. He looked up at me. "It's Rebecca." I scowled at him for being a nosy fucker and grabbed the phone from his palm. I walked to the
back with it. "Hey, Rebel, what's up?" "It's been a lousy Monday." "Uh oh. What's the matter?" "The rude woman in the claims department got the last banana nut muffin." "That muffin stealing bitch." I closed the backroom door for privacy, trying to forget about the conversation I was no doubt going to have with Dylan. "Right? Anyhow, I was grinding out stupid data charts for my boss, Cruella, the puppy eater, and I remembered something." "Yeah? What's that?' "I miss you." "Yeah?" I smiled into the phone. "Do ya?" She lowered her voice to a sexy whisper. "Yes, and I wish you were between my legs right now." "Fuck, you just wiped out the rest of my day. I'm not going to get anything else done because being between your legs is all I'm going to be thinking about." "Good, that was my intent. I know it's an hour drive, but if you wanted to come see me tonight in my crummy little apartment, I wouldn't say no." "I'll be there with fucking bells on. The bar's closed today. Dylan and I are just getting a jump on the week. Hey, speaking of Dylan—" "Let's not," she said sharply. "The morning has been shitty enough."
"All-all right," I said haltingly. I knew Michelle had turned a cold shoulder on Rebecca after the accident, but I was still confused about how Dylan fit into it all. He hadn't been around much and especially not during the summer of the accident. There was a long pause, which she quickly filled with her light, frilly phone voice. "Hey, my dad sent more pictures of the vineyard. He wants me to help him run it." I sat on the stool in the workroom, feeling as if someone had just punched the air from my lungs. "Josh? Did you hear me?" "Yeah, I heard you." "I mean it seems crazy because what the heck do I know about running a vineyard? But then my muffin was stolen and the whole idea sounded a little sweeter." "Rebel?" "Yeah?" "One minute you're taking my breath away by talking about me between your legs, and the next you’re taking my breath away by talking about leaving to Europe." Silence. "Rebecca?" "I haven't told him yes. I was just telling you about it." I was being an idiot and reading way too much into what was happening between us. I had to slow
myself down. "Yeah, I get it. It actually sounds pretty cool, especially if you're working with puppy eaters and muffin stealers." She laughed lightly. "Are you still coming tonight?" "Yeah." "Good. But no bells. My neighbors are total grumps." She hung up. I sat there staring at the backroom. The wine rack was filled with every shade and type of wine, and the beer and ale was stacked high on the shelves. Dylan and I had done a good job. Obviously good enough that people were interested in buying the place. It was my first real success in a life that was full of mistakes. I headed back to the bar, my head still mired in the idea of Rebecca leaving for Europe. Dylan was wiping away lemon juice and seeds from the counter. He didn't look up from his task. I relaxed a bit, deciding maybe he wasn't going to grill me about the call. I picked up a glass from the drying rack and rubbed the towel against it. Dylan put the knives and cutting board back with more clamor than usual. He walked over a little closer than might be considered correct for the unspoken personal space rule. Dylan was about two inches taller than me, but I'd still be a formidable opponent to him in a fight. Not that I had to ever think much about that.
We'd had plenty of fights, but neither of us had ever thrown a punch at the other. "So what the fuck is going on?" Dylan asked. "I'm drying glasses." "Don't be an asshole. You know what I mean. How the fuck am I supposed to take it if you're hanging out with Rebecca?" I put the last glass on the rack and dropped the moist towel over my shoulder. "You don't have to take it any way at all. It's really none of your business." Dylan kicked at the trash can beneath the counter and put a dent in the metal side. "Bullshit. It is my business. My sister is dead, and I'm pretty fucking sure she wouldn't be happy if you took up with her sister." "Stepsister, and again, I don't think this is any of your damn business." I walked away and almost expected him to cold cock me from behind. He was angrier than I'd seen him in a long time. I knew he wouldn't be happy about any of this, but I didn't expect him to be so mad. "So, you're fucking her? You're fucking Emily's sister?" I clenched my jaw tightly and took a deep breath as I walked into the storeroom to finish shelving beer. Dylan stomped behind me with heavy, angry footsteps. Maybe today would be the first time we fought with fists.
I turned around to face him. "You just need to let this drop." "Can't fucking do that. I know about the text. Mom told me about it. The police gave her Emily's belongings, and Mindy's text was frozen on the phone screen." From the inside, it felt like I was peeling apart like old paint on a crumbling building. I knew they'd gotten Emily's things back, and I knew the phone was included. Her body had been twisted and broken in the wreck, but her phone had survived without a scratch. Dylan pointed at me. "I can see by the look on your face that I just nailed you with a big punch to the stomach, and I didn't even have to make my hand sore. Why the hell do you think things went south so fast in that marriage? That's why Mom didn't want you around anymore either." I stared at him. I had a million responses but only one came out. "Fuck you, Dylan." "That's it? Fuck you. That's all you've got to say?" "Yeah. That's it. Take it or leave it. I don't care." He walked out and slammed the door shut behind him. I stared at the rows of beer bottles in front of me. I was seething inside enough that I actually visualized dragging my arm across the entire shelf and throwing them all on the floor. Then I realized I'd gotten off too easy with my
response. Dylan had gotten off too easy too. I swung open the door and found him in the office going through receipts. His instant defensive stance, with shoulders taut, assured me he was just as angry as me. "Actually, I do have more to say. First of all, that kiss, it was nothing. I pulled Rebecca out of a bad situation. She was drunk and upset and it happened. That's it. But if you think for one fucking second that I wasn't turned inside out about losing Emily, about being the driver in the accident, then you don't know me at all. Emily and I were having plenty of problems at the end, but losing her was like having my heart ripped out of my chest. I drowned myself in booze and drugs, and the whole time I was in that intoxicated haze, I wished I would just float off for good. So fuck you, Dylan. And whatever happens between Rebecca and me is none of your damn business. She's not even part of your family anymore." His jaw shifted from side to side as if he was ready to pummel me, and I almost wished he had. But he said nothing. He stared at me for a minute and then returned to the receipts. I walked out of the office.
CHAPTER 23
REBECCA
J
oshua knocked as I cut open the last avocado. I hurried to the door and swung it open. He was wearing a black t-shirt and black jeans and he looked as good as I'd imagined him looking all day. "I hope you like guacamole." I turned back to the kitchen and he walked inside and closed the door. "I'm pretty sure guacamole is up there with ice cream on most people's favorite food lists." "That's good. The market down the street had a ton that were so ripe they needed to be eaten today, so the store owner practically begged me to take some. And I thought—guacamole. There's cold beer in the fridge." Joshua scooted past me to the refrigerator and leaned inside to grab a beer. "Did your day get any better after the muffin
tragedy?" I tossed the chunks of avocado into the bowl. "Much. Especially after I talked to you. How about your day?" Joshua opened the beer and smiled just enough to move his beard. "I've had better, but your call was definitely the highlight." "Oh? I'm sorry to hear that. Not the part about the phone call. That part is nice to hear. Plus, it helps me not feel too silly about the fact that I sat around with starry eyes just daydreaming about you for the rest of the day. When the puppy eater walked through on her pin pointed heels, I put my fingers on the keyboard and pretended to be busy. But I was just writing the word Butthead over and over again." I tossed some salt into the bowl and pulled in a breath as his arm snaked around me. Joshua pushed his hard body up against mine. He pushed my hair aside to expose the tattoo on my neck. "Rebel, Rebel," he muttered quietly before kissing the ink stained skin. His hand slid up to my breasts. "Hmm, no bra. Saves us a step." His fingers teased my nipples, tugging gently at them as his cock pushed against my bottom. "I think that guacamole is going to have to wait." I tilted my head to the side, inviting him to kiss my neck again. The warmth of his mouth on my skin sent a shiver through me. "So . . . exactly what were you daydreaming
about, baby?" His voice was deep and raspy. I put down the utensils and rested my head back against his shoulder. "Strangely enough, there were no avocadoes in my daydream." I mewled lightly as his hand swept down below my shorts. "But the rest is pretty much spot on. Almost as if you've been reading my mind." I reached up and curled my hand around the back of his head, arching my back and pressing my breasts harder against his hand and my ass harder against his cock. His erection strained against the fabric of his pants, begging for release. "Take me right here, Josh," I said on a breathy whisper. "I've been wet for you all damn day." His growl vibrated the skin on my neck. "Fuck, baby, that's all I need to hear." His hands slid down my arms. He took hold of my wrists and braced them against the edge of the counter. He yanked down my shorts and panties and grabbed my hips. I gasped as his mouth pressed against my naked ass. He ran his tongue along the bare skin, tracing it along the tattoo on my hip. "Don't move." The zipper on his jeans opened and they dropped to the floor. "Looking at you braced against that counter is making my dick so fucking hard." He groaned as he took a firm hold of my hips. His foot wedged between my feet and nudged them apart. He pulled my ass so that it jutted out even more. His warm body leaned over me and he kissed
my shoulders and my back as his hand circled around me and pushed between my legs. He lifted his mouth to my ear. "Is this what you want, baby?" His fingers curled into the moisture pooling in my pussy. "Yes," I mewled. "Yes." I pushed my ass harder against him, silently begging him to end my agony. But he teased my clit with his thumb, thrumming it until all I could think about was coming. "Please, Joshua." He bit the edge of my ear a little harder than I expected. "Feel this, baby?" his finger impaled me. "That's what I'm going to do to you with my cock." He pressed his cock between the cheeks of my ass. "Please, Josh." My breath came in steady, short spurts, and my head felt dizzy from it all. I cried out as he pushed a second and then third finger inside of me, all the while teasing me from behind with the warm, slick tip of his cock. I'd never had anal sex, but I found myself pushing against the pressure of his cock as it wedged against the tight puckered hole. My pulse raced at the thought of him penetrating me in every intimate way. I knew I'd never say no to Joshua. I wanted him, all of him. "Tell me it's always been me, Rebel. Tell me there's not ever been anyone else. Just me." His fingers dipped into the wetness as his cock pushed against me. "Tell me, Rebel, Rebel. Tell me
what I need to hear." "It's you, Josh. It's always been you. Since I can remember, it's always been you." I moaned in disappointment as he withdrew his fingers and pulled his cock from between the cheeks of my ass. My legs shook from pushing against him. Then he nudged my feet even farther apart. I nearly lost my grip on the counter as he pulled my ass out farther. He thrust his cock into my pussy, and his hands spread my ass wide. He teased the tight puckered hole with his thumb, using the precum left behind by his cock as a lubricant. My body trembled. The sensations started deep in my pussy and then unfurled into a long, shuddering orgasm. "Josh! Oh, Joshua!" I braced myself against the counter as he pumped into me, each movement growing more urgent until his groan echoed off the kitchen wall. He held me hard against him as he came. My arms and legs were shaking as if I'd done a thousand push-ups. I turned into his arms and let him hold me up. I kissed his mouth. "I thought you were going to give me my first anal sex experience." "You're not quite ready for that." He swept me into his arms and carried me out to the bed. "But we could have a lot of fun prepping you for that if you're up for it." He lowered me onto the bed.
I scooted over to make room for him. I hopped up on my elbow and ran my fingers along his chest. "I don't think I'd say no to anything if you're the one suggesting it." I reached up and pushed his hair back off his face. "Because it's all true, Josh. It's always been you. Even when I knew I could never have you, I figured at least I'd have you in my life." I lowered my mouth to his. "It's always been you, Butthead." He wrapped his arms around me and pulled my mouth down to his.
CHAPTER 24
JOSHUA
I
stood in the mirror and used my fingers to comb out my wet hair. Rebecca had turned on the radio, and I sang along with Mick to Wild Horses. I thought about how appropriate the song's lyrics sounded. Dylan, the past, the whole fucking world could tell me this was wrong, but nothing had ever felt so right. Rebecca and I had fallen into each other's lives and arms so naturally. It was impossible for me to come up with a reason why we shouldn't be together. Rebecca knocked politely before poking her head into the bathroom. I laughed. "Are you the shy, coy girl, or the beautiful woman I just had bent over the kitchen counter?" "Well, in that case." She walked into the tiny bathroom and stood behind me. She wrapped her
arms around me and kissed my wet shoulder. "I was listening to you sing Wild Horses and I was falling in love with you all over again." Her confession stunned me. I gazed at her reflection in the mirror as she reached past my arm for a brush. She began brushing my hair. "I always thought you should be the singer in the band. Or maybe that was because I only saw you when your band was practicing. I used to sit on that old, rat chewed couch Evan had in his garage and I'd pretend to be listening to the band, but I could only hear and see you. To me, even standing in that cluttered, hot garage, you were a rock star." She smoothed her hand over the hair she'd just brushed and put the brush down on the sink. I turned to face her. "And I always knew you were there. Sometimes you were an annoying brat, a cute little shadow that just happened to always be nearby. Then I watched you grow up, and I thought, some lucky fucking guy is going to land Rebecca. Some lucky asshole is going to get to hear her laugh in the middle of a funny movie. Some lucky undeserving jerk is going to see her face first thing every morning. Some lucky guy is going to get to have Rebel in his arms any time he wants." Her eyes grew glassy but she smiled. "You forgot one. I make really good guacamole." She took hold of my hand and led me out of the bathroom.
"Shouldn't I at least get dressed?" I asked. "Nope. This guacamole tastes even better in the nude." She patted the kitchen chair for me to sit and then circled around to her chair. "Then shouldn't you be naked?" I looked pointedly at her panties and bra. She picked up a chip and dipped it into the avocado. "No, I meant it tastes better to me when I can look across the table at a naked you." She pushed the chip into her mouth. I grabbed a chip and did the same. "Hmm. You're right. I have to add excellent guacamole maker to the list of traits." I drank from the bottle of beer she'd opened for me. "I'll probably regret asking this, but you mentioned you nearly married someone in Europe?" She wiped some guacamole off her bottom lip with her pinky. "Yes. Peter was handsome and fashionable and successful, considering he was only twenty-six." "See, I knew I'd regret it, and yet, I let my big mouth fall open with the question." I picked up the beer again. "You didn't let me finish. And Peter was vain, and too serious, and frankly, he was kind of boring in bed." I grabbed another chip. "I like him already. But you let it get all the way to an engagement." Rebecca shrugged and sat back with her beer.
"Had the dress picked and everything. I was young. I was still feeling so lost, so ungrounded, and Peter offered some stability. Plus he had this adorable little summer house near a lake in France." "Well, I don't have one of those. But I do have a house." I sat forward. "If you ever want to come back to Camden Beach, you could work at the bar." She laughed and covered her mouth to keep from spitting out beer. She caught her breath. "That sounds like a terrible idea. You'd be my boss." I nodded. "You're right. Don't know what I was thinking. I guess I just want you near me, Rebel." She stared down at the beer bottle, picking at the label. The smile had evaporated from her face. "I can't, Josh. I can't ever go back there." Some of the pink had left her face as she lifted her gaze to me. "I'm sorry. I know your whole life is there but I can't go back." "I understand," I said, but was still trying to understand. She hopped up from the chair. "Another beer?" It was obvious that Camden Beach was a topic she preferred to avoid. "Sure." Rebecca returned with a beer. Instead of sitting on her own chair, she sat on my lap. She reached forward and scooped a chip and fed it to me. I swallowed and smiled up at her. "Best fucking
guacamole I've ever eaten."
CHAPTER 25
REBECCA
I
looked at the time on my computer. Three more minutes in hell and then straight into heaven, namely Joshua's
arms. The wheels on Dustin's chair squeaked as he poked his face around the divider. "Kate and I are going to try out that new Italian place on the corner." "That sounds fun. So things are going well?" Dustin shrugged but then his smile showed it all. "Yeah. Things are good." His smile turned into a stiff straight line. "Ugh, here she comes," he muttered before rolling back to his desk. Irene click-clacked past my cubicle. She'd gone on a huge tirade about a mistake on one of the pie charts I'd made for her. Apparently, I'd flipped the numbers, giving the office a negative balance for
the month. The entire office watched in horror as she berated me. I just sat with my hand on the desk drawer, ready to clean out my belongings. After calling me every name from the professional bully's handbook, she clacked out of the cubicle so hard, her heels left little moon shaped crescents in the floor. But she never fired me. I almost wished she had. I'd felt extra stupid about the mistake and scolded myself for letting my head get so clouded with thoughts of Joshua. I was losing focus at work. But then I'd pulled out the file with Irene's original data and discovered that she had made the mistake. Not me. I decided to let her know. I grabbed the file with her reversed numbers, stood up from my chair and followed her sharp steps with some of my own. "Excuse me, Irene." Irene stopped. I couldn't hear the frustrated sigh, but I could definitely see it as her bony shoulders lifted and fell. She spun around. "What is it, Rebecca? I'm on my way out." After the ugly scene in my cubicle, curious faces turned our direction. I had no doubt Dustin was craning his neck to hear the conversation just past his cubicle. "Uh, I just wanted to point out something on your numbers." I opened the manila folder and pointed to the numbers I'd taken the time to highlight. "If you'll notice here and here, you had the numbers backwards on your data sheet. I
created the charts directly from your numbers." Her nostrils were wider than usual, and I could have sworn her perfume grew stronger, almost like the scent of an angry beast trying to warn off enemies. She plucked the folder from my hand and turned sharply on her heels. She marched toward the elevator without a word. Not even the glimmer of an apology. "My god, she is the worst person on the planet," Dustin muttered from behind the partition. The elevator dinged. Irene shot a sideways glance my direction. I waved politely with a grin. A grin that grew into a smile when Joshua stepped out of the elevator. Irene froze and gave him a disapproving scowl as he walked past her. Joshua nodded and smiled back at her. He walked toward me. Irene had disappeared into the elevator by the time he reached me. "I think I just had a run in with Cruella." I took his hand. "Could you sense the villainy as you walked past? Wait until you hear about my day. She really took herself to the top of the awful people chart today. I just need to get my stuff." I led him back to my cubicle, but Dustin's chair shot out to block our path. Dustin raised a brow. "Uh huh, so this is who has you so distracted." Joshua stuck out his hand. "How do you do? I'm Josh, and you must be Rebecca's friend, Dustin."
Dustin had to work hard to not smile. "Yes, that's right. And, as her friend, I like to make sure she's keeping good company." "O.K., Dad," I said. "We're off to the county fair. I'll bring you back a bag of cotton candy. Pink or blue?" "Blue," Dustin said, temporarily breaking out of his severe dad impersonation. "Hey, I see you're a Led Zeppelin fan." Joshua took note of the framed concert ticket and flyer Dustin had purchased on Ebay. "Jimmy Page is a god to me. I met him once. I mean I was in a crowd, but I was just five feet from him and we made eye contact so I considered that meeting him." Dustin sat forward and his eyes lit up. "Yeah? Shit, I'd give anything just to stand in the same room with the guy." Joshua had already won him over. "Favorite song?" he blurted. "Going to California. After Stairway, of course." Dustin looked at me and nodded. "I'm jealous as hell but I approve." I laughed as I swept past into my cubicle to grab my purse. I took hold of Joshua's hand. "Good night, Dustin." "Don't forget my cotton candy. Josh, take good care of her otherwise you'll be talking to me. And it
won't just be about the Zeppelin." "You got it." We got to the elevator and walked inside. Joshua pulled me instantly into his arms. "I have fucking missed you, Rebel." "It's only been three days." "Three days too long," he said just before his mouth covered mine.
CHAPTER 26
JOSHUA
R
ebecca climbed onto the ride, and I slid in next to her. The Scrambler was one of those long armed, spider shaped rides that made you dizzy and, at the same time, gave you a mild form of whiplash. But Rebecca had insisted we go on it. We pulled the bar down over our laps. Rebecca hung her head over the side of the ride to look at the long metal arm holding our cart in place. "I sure hope the guy taking tickets isn't the person who put this ride together. He looked kind of, kind of—" "High? And maybe we should have pondered that question before we climbed onto this rickety looking ride." She wrapped her arm around mine. "Where's your sense of adventure?" "I think we have different definitions for
adventure. To me—adventure is hiking up a mountain or rafting down a river. Getting thrown through a fair crowd trapped in a rusty ride car is not adventure." Rebecca kissed my cheek. "I'm glad you thought of this. I haven't been to the fair in such a long time." "Me neither. It's somehow smaller and less overwhelming now that I'm a grown up." The start to the ride was stalled as the ticket guy walked around to check that everyone's bars were locked in place. He got to one car and asked the small boy sitting next to his older sister to get out. Then walked him down to the sign that showed the height limit. "Well, I misjudged the man," Rebecca quipped. "He's more with it than I gave him credit for. But I still hope he wasn't the person who built the ride." "I second that." My phone rang. As badly as I wanted to ignore it, I'd told Dylan to call if he needed me. "Sorry, I've got to answer this." I turned my head away from the noise out in the fairground. Unfortunately, that meant closer to Rebecca. She pretended to busy herself watching the Ferris wheel across the way. "What's up?" "Wasn't sure if you'd answer. What the fuck is all that noise?" "Did you call for a reason?" I barked through
the phone. "Yeah, I did. Tory cut her thumb badly on a broken glass. I need to take her to the clinic for stitches." "Shit. It's that bad? I'm a good hour away. Who else is around that can watch the place until I get there?" "Helena is taking over when I leave, but you know that's not ideal. So hurry back." "Yeah, I'll be there soon." I hung up and put the phone back into my pocket. "I heard," Rebecca said. "We'll head out as soon as the ride ends. I guess it's kind of hard on you with me living in the city, so far from your business and home." "The moon wouldn't be too far as long as I knew you were at the end of the journey." I placed my hand on the back of her head and brought her mouth to mine for a quick kiss. "I'm just disappointed our evening is cut short." "Me too." While we waited for the kid's height to be checked, Rebecca rested her head against my shoulder. She laughed. "I was just thinking about when Michelle and Dad took us here. Em and I were getting off the scary monster cars that take you through the fun house, and her sandal got caught on the edge of the car." She lifted her head and laughed again. "And the cars were on a
conveyor belt that never stopped, so we both stood by in horror as the car rolled away from us with Emily's sandal dangling precariously off the side. By the time we reached one of the workers to help us, the car had disappeared back into the fun house. They had to stop the entire ride and turn on the lights, ruining, of course, the special scary effects and everyone else's ride. Poor Em was mortified as she stood there with one shoe. Everyone was skewering her with angry glares while the workers looked for the sandal." "I think she told me that story once." I curled my fingers around hers. "I think it was when we were at a carnival, and I asked her if she wanted to ride in the fun house. Her answer was a decisive no. Then she told me about the rogue sandal story." "I'm glad I have someone to talk to about Emily. My dad really wanted to push the memories away. While the feelings were pretty mutual when he and my mom split up, he was genuinely heartbroken about losing Michelle." She looked over at me. "Sometimes I wonder if all this would be easier if that kiss had never happened. It would feel like a cleaner start." I hadn't expected the topic change, so I took my time responding. It was something I'd thought about too, but every time, I came back to the same conclusion. The kiss was just one fleeting moment in a long string of moments. Even as far back as
Rebecca's sixteenth birthday, things between us were changing. My gift wasn't just some quick, last second decision. I knew I wanted her to have my Iron Maiden t-shirt because I loved her. And Emily's reaction assured me that she was slowly figuring that out too. "Rebel, that kiss—" I shook my head. "Shit, it's a kiss I will never forget. But, for me, that kiss had happened in my head and in my heart a million times before your lips pressed against mine." The tinny music began playing, and the ride jolted to a start. The big metal arms creaked as if they needed new bolts. Rebecca was still gazing at me. "Joshua," she said softly, and the sound of it tightened around my heart.
CHAPTER 27
JOSHUA
I
t was one of those noises that woke you from a deep sleep but you couldn't make sense of what it was or where it had come from. I stretched and turned over on my bed, waiting for sleep to take hold of me again. It had been a long, crowded night in the bar. Tory was off for two weeks with her stitched thumb. Both Dylan and I had taken turns behind the bar. We knew we needed more employees, but skilled, worthwhile applicants were few and far between. Tory's injury meant Dylan and I both had to be at the bar during the busiest times, which lately seemed to be all the time. I lifted my head and pummeled my pillow back into shape. The kitchen floor creaked just as I rested my head back down. I sat up to listen for another sound, deciding it was probably just the
floor settling. The next sound was louder and sounded distinctly like someone opening the refrigerator. Apparently a hungry or thirsty thief had broken in to my house. I put my feet on the floor, pulled on my shorts and took out the wooden bat I kept under the bed, my primitive security system. I crept down the hallway, making sure to avoid the creaky hallway floor planks. A new sound came from the kitchen. Paper rustling. I lifted the bat and rounded the corner, ready to break a skull. Rebel was leaning against the sink eating the leftover half of my ham sandwich. "This needs mustard but you don't have any." "I hate mustard." "That's right. I remember when Michelle once accidentally squirted mustard on your hot dog, and you took it into the kitchen to wash it off. I mean that is true disdain. Most people would have just powered through it." She held up a spare key. "By the way, your dad used to keep a spare key under the hedge." "Forgot about that key." I lowered the bat and leaned it against the wall. She pointed at it with her pinky since the rest of her hand was wrapped around my sandwich. "Were you going out to play baseball?" She took another bite. "Yeah, with the head of my sandwich thief. I probably shouldn't mention this, but I thought you
couldn't ever come back to Camden Beach." She wadded up the paper and looked around at my half demolished kitchen in search of the trash can. I put out my hand for the paper and tossed it into the pile of broken tiles and laminate. "Well, I missed you. And I knew you were working your butt off and you wouldn't have time to drive out and see me. I decided to be brave. Plus, I figured, it was dark and late and no one would be out, so no chance of running into anyone." She leaned her hands back against the counter. Her breasts jutted forward, pushing against her tight sweater. After taking a good long look at her sweater, I lifted my eyes to her face. "You're not wearing a bra, are you?" She reached down and yanked off the sweater. "I figured it was one less step. Are you mad I woke you?" "Fuck." I reached for her hand and nearly ran with her down the hallway to my room. I kicked my foot against the door to open it wide and pulled her inside. My mouth devoured hers as she kicked off her shoes and unzipped her pants. I stopped kissing her long enough to yank down her pants. The panties went conveniently along with them. I led her to the bed. She sat down with her feet on the ground and unbuttoned my shorts. She pushed them to the floor. Before I could climb onto
the bed, she wrapped her fingers around my cock. She gazed up at me as her lips grazed the fleshy tip of my erection. She licked off the liquid and then ran her tongue over her bottom lip. Her hand took firm hold of my cock, and she pushed it into her mouth, making sure to tease me with her tongue, lips and teeth as she swallowed me. "Fuuck, Rebel, so damn glad you came." I combed my fingers through her hair and held her against me, pushing my cock in as far as she could take it. She pumped me with her hand as she sucked and blew me. Her free hand went around my ass, and she grabbed it with a big pinch as she pulled me closer, letting me know I could go farther into her mouth. "I'm going to come, baby. Let me fuck you. I need all of you." She slowly pulled her mouth from me and scooted back on the bed, knees up and drawing me onto the bed with her exposed pussy. I knelt over her and stared down at the naked beauty in the center of my bed. She had brought me to the edge of reason with her mouth, and I worried that I'd come the second I was inside of her. She noticed my hesitation. "Tell me what you want, Josh. I won't say no. You're the only person I won't say no to. I'll do anything. Just ask." "Yeah?" I leaned down over her, our naked bodies barely skimming each other. I kissed her
nipple lightly. "Touch yourself, baby. I want to watch you touch yourself." Her lips parted, and I wondered if I'd gone too far. But then she smiled up at me with that twinkle that was pure, wild Rebecca. She stayed up on one elbow and slid her free hand along her breasts and down to her pussy. I sat back to watch as she slipped her fingers down along her clit. Her head dropped back and her eyes closed as she stroked the pink nub. Her nipples hardened and her flawless skin turned rosy with a blush. And then a soft, mewling sound came from her lush lips, and I couldn't hold back anymore. She startled as I leaned down over her. Her arms wrapped around my neck. She brought my mouth down over hers as I impaled her. The perfect rhythm of our bodies brought us both quickly to climax. She threw her long legs around my waist to feel every inch of me as her body trembled with ecstasy. I dropped down and pulled her along with me as I rolled onto my side. She rested her head on my arm and busied herself with picking a few white hairs from my beard. "Hope I didn't give you these," she smiled. "You might have. I'm glad you’re here." "I had no choice. I'm quickly becoming addicted to these arms." She rubbed her hand along my arm. "This mouth." She pressed her finger to my
mouth. "And, most especially, to this wonderful appendage down here." She moved her hand down to my cock and stroked her fingers along it. "Thank you for that. I haven't really been a huge fan of sex until now." "Really? Then well done me. I guess you were just waiting for the right partner." "I definitely was." She curled into my arms and fell fast asleep.
CHAPTER 28
REBECCA
I
glanced at the pictures Dad had sent through email. He looked happier than I'd seen him in a long time standing in front of rows of fluttery green grape vines. I'd never seen him in faded jeans and work boots. And he'd given up on his every four week barber shop visit. Even his five-o-clock shadow had gone well into midnight shadow. And the gray peppered through the dark beard made him look like a distinguished rustic grape farmer. He'd looked for love his whole life and now he'd found it . . . in the earth. The vineyard stretched out over the rolling hills behind him and the hills ended at a wilderness of shrubs. Beyond that was the vast river, flowing between the sculpted green hills like blue silk. He was desperately trying to coax me back to Europe, back into his life, and every picture, especially the ones
where he was standing with his familiar grin and laughing blue eyes, brought me a bit closer to the idea. But now there was a major reason for me to stay near my old home town. Each day brought me closer to Joshua and farther from the notion that this relationship was wrong. I loved Emily. That had never been compromised. She would always be the sister I never had. But my feelings for Joshua were deep, far deeper than I could have imagined. Irene's heels sounded on the floor in the hallway. The woman spent so much time marching around, checking that everyone was working, it was a wonder she got any of her own work done. I clicked out of my dad's emails and got back to filling in claim forms. It was a monotonous task I didn't mind because it gave me time to daydream and think about Joshua. I'd left him sleeping deeply, looking amazingly hot stretched out beneath a tangled white sheet. It had been sheer torture climbing out of his bed and leaving him behind, but I wanted to leave Camden Beach long before the sun was up. Somehow it was much easier driving through the town in the dark, where shadows made shops and houses look unfamiliar. File folders dropped suddenly onto my desk from above. "I said your name twice. You need to focus on your work so we don't have any more mistakes like the other day."
I looked up at her. "You mean when you transposed the numbers? That was your mistake. Not mine." The woman had been slowly chipping away at my self confidence, and I'd had enough. She never apologized after the severe scolding that I had not deserved. In fact, I deserved the opposite. Since I'd pointed out the mistake to her, she'd actually grown even harsher toward me. If someone made a comprehensive list of the worst human character traits, Irene would check off every damn box. I slid the folder in front of me and ignored her. She lingered like a vulture for a few more seconds and then click-clacked away. I was never going to buy another pair of heels because the sound of them hitting a tile floor made me cringe. My phone buzzed in my desk drawer. I leaned out to make sure Irene was gone and pulled it out. There was a text from Joshua. "I thought I'd wake up with my Rebel in my arms, but she was gone. Now the rest of the day is shit." "Sorry, I wanted to escape before the sun came up." "You mean like a vampire?" I smiled as I typed back. "Something like that. When do you have time to come see me? I already miss you." "I'll see what time I get off tonight and let you know. In the meantime, keep missing me."
I sent him three heart emojis and opened the drawer to put away my phone. It buzzed again. I laughed in anticipation of what he wrote back. But it was a picture from a number I didn't recognize. I tapped it open and the picture spread across the screen. Emily and I were standing in our Halloween costumes. I was a butterfly and she was a pretty pirate. She was thirteen, and she was heading to a school dance after she took me out trick or treating. It was her first dance, and she had been so excited she practically pulled me along from house to house to hurry me. She got home late that night, or at least late for a thirteen-year-old, and she snuck into my room to tell me all about the dance. And I could barely hear one detail over the excited voice in my head reminding me that my new older sister found me important enough to tell me about her first school dance. Tears burned my eyes as I stared down at the picture. We both looked so darn happy, and at that time, things were still rolling along smoothly. Dad and Michelle were happy. Emily and I were happy. But it wasn't long after that when things changed dramatically. At least for me. I looked again at the phone number. It wasn't part of my contact list, but I had a good idea of who’d sent it. I grabbed a tissue from my purse. I hadn't realized my hands were shaking until I went to wipe my eyes.
I texted Joshua. "Does Dylan know we're seeing each other?" I'd never asked Joshua because I really didn't want to know. The response came back after a long pause. "Yes. He saw your name on my phone when you called the other day. I'm sorry I didn't tell you. Is anything wrong?" "No, it's fine." I dropped the phone back into my drawer and stared at the computer screen. The numbers and charts were a blur, and it felt as if my cubicle was closing in on me like the sides of a coffin. The shaking in my hands was replaced by a terrible tingling sensation. I rubbed my hands together to keep them from going numb. Dustin heard me working hard to catch my breath. He peeked over the partition and his eyes rounded. "Rebecca, is everything all right?" I nodded and then shook my head. "I'll get you a cup of water." He raced off to the water cooler. I'd been plagued with panic attacks for long enough to know when I was facing one, and I'd taught myself how to slow them down. I closed my eyes and tried to think about a happy situation. But the only thing that came to mind was being with Joshua, and that wasn't helping to negate the source of my attack. "Here you go." Dustin had practically crushed the flimsy paper cup between his thumb and
forefinger, and judging from the tiny amount of water left inside, most of it had sloshed out on his harried journey back to the cubicle. Sipping the water helped me forget about my erratic breathing and some of the tingling left my fingers. Dustin stared down at me with such a profound look of worry on his face, I couldn't help but smile back at him. "Dustin, if I haven't told you enough, and I'm sure I haven't, you are a good friend." "Seriously? I thought break time ended an hour ago." Dustin and I both startled at the shrill voice. Neither of us had heard the sound of the sharp heel alarm. Her approach had helped snap me out of my fog. I spoke up quickly. "Dustin was just bringing me some water because I felt a little faint." I waved my hand for effect. Although it actually felt good. "Get back to work, Dustin," Irene snapped. "And I'm watching you. You are on thin ice, Rebecca. One more major mistake like you made the other day, and you'll be out of a job." She spun on her heels and marched off. It could have been the picture or the panic attack or the fact that it seemed I just wasn't ever supposed to be happy, but I was done. I pushed my chair back so hard it rattled the entire cubicle. Then I stepped out into the aisle. "It. Was. Your. Mistake . . . Witch."
Irene froze in her hostile tracks. The entire office came to a halt. You could hear the time clock ticking and the water cooler gurgling, but that was it. I was especially aware of Dustin, who sat like a terrified block of stone in his cubicle. "Excuse me?" A red blush was already rising up around the collar of Irene's blouse, and her cheek twitched just a bit. "How do you do it? I mean, do you get up every morning and look in the mirror and ask yourself ‘how can I make everyone's day miserable? What can I do to make sure everyone thinks I'm the worst fucking person on the planet?’ It must be. Because you achieve those goals every damn day. Meanness comes so naturally to you that you don't even seem to realize that you are a venomous snake. Shame on you for being such a wretched person." I knew I should just stop and clean out my desk, but I had a year's worth of anger layered up inside. "And you don't even bother to know any of us. Jennifer, over in accounting, has twin boys who have medical needs that require her to take off once a month, but instead of asking her how you can help and make her life easier by tweaking her schedule, you dock her pay. I've lost a sister. She died in a car accident when I was nineteen and it devastated me. But you don't know that because you don't ask one thing about the people who work so hard to make you look good at the board meetings. But you don't ever
look good. There just isn't enough magic in the world to erase the evil that swirls around you every second of the day." "Get your things. You're fired." Her hands were balled so tightly I half expected blood to drip from her palms. It was a short curt response. Apparently, I'd left her somewhat speechless. "Gladly." I walked into the cubicle and pulled out my purse. I jammed my pictures inside of it but left the half dead plant. I circled around the corner and kissed a stunned, yet smiling, Dustin on the forehead. Irene clapped her hands once. "Everyone else get back to work, or you can leave with her." I caught a few winks and secret smiles as I swept past the cubicles. Timing was on my side. The elevator slid open the second I pushed the button. I stepped inside and waited for the doors to close before letting the tears flow.
CHAPTER 29
JOSHUA
D
ylan was a pro at disappearing into the office whenever the bar was crowded. Tory was still off, and it felt as if I'd finished pouring enough drinks to keep the entire state of Texas drunk for a week. It was a week night, so the crowd was thinning as people willed themselves to go home and get a few decent hours of sleep before the morning alarm clocks started screaming. I had mentioned to Dylan that it was his turn to close, but he never gave me a definitive response. I'd carried the load tonight, so I was going to remind him. That way, I could head out to the city and see Rebecca. Dylan was just hanging up his phone when I walked into the office. "Well, Penny quit." "And why is that?" I asked.
"I told you I didn't touch her. Her grades were slipping, so her mom said she had to quit. Satisfied?" "Not really. We put time and valuable hours into training her for a two month stint. She was too young. That's on you." I wiped my hands on the towel hanging over my shoulder. "And so is closing. It's your turn. Besides, I ran that bar like a fucking gladiator tonight, and now I'm beat." "But not too beat to drive miles to see Rebecca," he commented as I headed to the door. I stopped and turned around. "We're work partners. What I do after hours is none of your business." "Uh huh." He fingered the stack of bar receipts. "How is she doing, anyhow? Have you talked to her today?" "Since when do you care?" He looked up at me. "Why wouldn't I care? She grew up in the same house as me. Her dad was married to my mom." "And you're stating things I already knew because . . . ?" "Never mind. Do whatever you want. Becca was always flighty as hell, so it won't be long before she takes off to be with another guy. You don't know how wild she got as a teen, hanging out with all kinds of guys. Sneaking out of the house at night."
I stared at him for a long, tense minute. "Stop fucking there, Dylan. Not another fucking word out of your mouth or we can start dividing this place up right now." He lifted his hands as if he'd said nothing wrong. "What? Just trying to warn you. Cuz I sure as fuck don't need you moping about here all brokenhearted and depressed because Rebecca dumped you." "Go to hell." I walked out and stopped in the hallway to text Rebecca. "Hey, I'll be there in an hour." She didn't respond right away, so I headed back to the bar to fill the last pitchers of beer. Ten minutes later my phone buzzed, and I glanced at it. "Actually, I'm kind of tired tonight. I think I'll just go to bed." I stared at the text. After the shitty conversation with Dylan, I hadn't been prepared for her to say no. "Anything wrong?" "No, I kind of just want to be alone. Love you." I shoved the phone back into my pocket. She wanted to be alone, which meant she didn't want to be with me. I finished serving customers. Everything seemed heavier, the glasses, the pitchers, my arms. It was amazing what a mind fuck a simple innocent text could be. Five minutes later my phone rang. I passed a
beer over the counter and pulled out my phone. "Hello." I headed to the stockroom to get away from the noise and out of ear shot of nosy business partners. "I got fired." Rebecca's words sounded slow. "But I'm feeling pretty good about it because I really gave it to Cruella. Only now I'll lose the apartment and car and then there's this thing I like called food." "Rebel, just how much did you drink?" The word apartment sounded like one long syllable. I couldn't fucking believe how relieved I was that she'd called me. She had wrapped herself around me good. "I finished that bottle of wine. And in between I was eating some of those frozen cheese sticks that I think I bought back at the turn of the century. So I'm not feeling my best." "Do you want me to bring you something?" I heard movement, and I was fairly certain she was shaking her head, expecting me to see her response. "I look like something a cat puked up, and I feel even worse. Thanks though, you're a good friend." "A friend? Have I been demoted to good friend?" A sob splashed through the phone. "Rebecca? Are you crying? Don't worry about the apartment. You can stay with me until you get
your feet back under you." A loud sniffled followed. "No, I can't. I can't go back to Camden Beach." She sniffled again. "What are we doing, Joshua? I shouldn't—We shouldn't—" "Hey, listen to me, baby, you're drunk. You're upset about the job. Just get some sleep, and I'll find some time to come see you tomorrow." "No," she said the word with a weak wavering voice, but she might as well have sent it through the phone with a knife. "Joshua, I think I need some time to sort stuff out. Don't be mad. I love you." She hung up. I paced the stockroom floor for a few minutes, not wanting to go out and face the customers or Dylan or life in general. Why the hell did this have to be so damn twisted? I loved her. She loved me. But it was as if there was a big fucking canyon between us that just couldn't be crossed. I grabbed a whiskey bottle from the stock shelf for home. I needed to get sloshed enough that I couldn't feel a fucking thing. Maybe my old man had it right.
CHAPTER 30
REBECCA
I
was doing one hell of a spectacular job feeling sorry for myself. And completely ignoring the warning on the cookie dough wrapper that said 'do not to eat raw dough', I'd downed enough raw cookie dough to kill a horse. I walked over to my bed. It hadn't been a couch for so long, I doubted it would even fold up again. I sat down and leaned against the cushion headboard and stared at the blank television screen. I hadn't opened the blinds all day. If it weren't for the time on the alarm clock, I wouldn't have had a clue what time of day it was. The hours were just slipping and sliding into one long pity party. Most days, I worked hard not to feel sorry for myself, but this time was different. This time I deserved to feel miserable and sad and pathetic.
For a brief stretch of time, things seemed wonderful. I was with Joshua, the one person on earth I could never get enough of. But in between the moments of sheer bliss were those sharp jabs of guilt. Emily had been gone for four years, but I couldn't tamp down the feeling that I was betraying her. Occasionally, I'd try and convince myself that she wasn't that nuts about him. She was constantly trying to change him to the person she wanted. It would always make me grind my teeth together in anger. Because as far as I was concerned, you never messed with perfection. To me, Joshua was that—perfect. But it seemed I was going to have to let perfect go and settle some day for something less than perfect. In my eyes, no other man had come close to Joshua. After calling Joshua with a long, blubbering half nonsense good-bye, I'd turned my phone off. I decided to turn it back on, sure that Dustin and possibly even my dad were trying to call or text me. God, my social world was small. And I was great at making it smaller. The phone started up, and I glanced through the recent call list. Dustin and Joshua. I didn't have the courage or energy to talk to anyone at the moment. I thumbed through my Dad's texts about the vineyard. I could just run away from everything and go live with my dad. In fact, in a few months when my bank account was drained of my last few
dollars, I might not have any choice. The thought of being thousands of miles and an ocean away from Joshua was agonizing. The thought of not seeing him again or feeling his arms around me made me feel as if I'd once again reached that horrid, low point in my life where everything just seemed too hard to bear. I moved my thumb across the screen and pulled up the picture of Emily and me. I wondered briefly what things would be like if she hadn't died. She had always been there for me, the slightly bossy but always caring older sister. Then my mind slipped back to that one night when Emily had let me down. It was a night that might have changed everything if she had stayed to listen to something I desperately needed to tell her. For the longest time I'd told myself it was because she was older and couldn't be bothered with stuff her little sister deemed important. But now and then, I let myself consider that she didn't stay that night because she didn't want to hear what I had to say. Because she knew.
CHAPTER 31
REBECCA
Seven years earlier
I
knelt down, reached under the bed and pulled the heavy cinderblock out from under it. Thankfully the plush carpeting in my bedroom made it easy to pull the block out without making too much noise. Of course, there was an odd, unexplained track of thinning carpet to give away my secret, but so far no one had noticed it. It helped that I left my school backpack over the mark whenever I was home. And when I wasn't home, my bedroom door was closed. Michelle was strict about me keeping my room clean, but she was also cool about respecting my privacy. At least that was what she told me. I didn't always have to pull the block out. But
tonight the house was full, and the deep voice, a sound that felt like an icy hand on my chest, thrummed through the hallway. It was my signal to pull out the cinderblock and slide it into place in front of the door. The idea had come to me when Dad was building a garden wall for Michelle. She badly wanted a place to plant flowers, and my dad, who would shoot up and lasso the moon for her if she asked, had immediately set off to the home supply store to buy cinderblocks. They were so heavy a large truck had to deliver them to the house. I'd spent several days in the hot sun helping lug the thirty pound blocks from the pallets on the front driveway to the far corner of the garden, the corner Michelle had deemed to be the sunniest and best location for her flower garden. My fingers were nearly numb from carrying the awkward shaped blocks, and on one journey across the yard, I'd had to stop and rest. I put the block down right next to the back door. In an attempt to look too busy in the house to help with the wall, Emily and Michelle had not walked out to the backyard all morning. But Murphy's Law had required at least one of them to open the back door at the precise second I lowered the block down. The door cracked against it, breaking off the thin strip of metal and rubber that acted as weather stripping for the back door. And as sharply as Michelle had opened the door, the block didn't budge. The door
broke but the block stood its ground. Later that night, when Michelle and Dad had gone out for dinner, I carried one of the spare blocks into my room and hid it under my bed. It was a simple plan for a monstrous problem. But it worked. I could still hear the television set on in the front room. Dad and Dylan were still up watching a movie, but Michelle had gone to bed. I climbed onto the bed with my book and my phone. Lilly, my current best friend, had been beside herself because she caught Rudy, the boy she thought she was going steady with, kissing another girl at the park. I'd been consoling her all evening with texts and smiley emojis, and it seemed she'd finally either cried herself to sleep or kissed and made up with Rudy. I placed the phone on the nightstand and was deep in a chapter of my book when the door smacked against the cinderblock. My heart slammed against my ribs. I sat up so suddenly the book popped out of my hands and onto the floor. My throat went dry as I stared at the small crack between the door and the block. Thin fingers reached around the edge of the door. "Becca, what the heck? Why won't the door open?" "Oops, sorry, just a second, Em." I hopped off the bed and reached the cinderblock. There was no way to hide that I had a cinderblock sitting on my floor. Emily would push open the door long before I
could get the heavy block back under my bed. Fortunately, she was excited about her night out and didn't mention the block as she slipped inside. She took a quick glance at it and jumped right into her conversation. "Well, the band's first party gig was a hit." She walked in, turned around and plopped onto my bed. "Josh and the guys were so nervous at first. It was funny and cute to watch. Then there was a little technical problem with the sound system, and they were getting all mad at each other, which was less cute but still kind of funny." "So everyone liked the band?" "Uh huh, right up until the time when the police came and said they had to turn off the speakers because they were too loud." She plucked up my favorite stuffed animal, Piggie, from the foot of my bed and absently stroked his ears while she talked. "Oh my gosh, the girls were all standing around watching the band with starry eyes like they were groupies. Ugh, that awful twit, Nadine, kept standing right below where Joshua was standing on the makeshift stage. I swear she kept stretching her tank top down so he could see her boobs. I think I was getting the evil eye from a few of the other girls because they knew I was with Josh. It was all so annoying." She tossed Piggie aside. "Annoying but you loved it." She shrugged. "It's kind of fun, I admit." She
clapped her hands once. "Which brings me to the real reason for barging in here tonight." Her eyes sparkled with some new idea. It was one of the things I loved best about Emily. She loved coming up with new plans and ideas. "We should have the Domino Dogs play at your sweet sixteen party. We could set up a little stage out back and rent some tables and . . ." "Sweet sixteen? Em, I was thinking of it just being the family and Joshua, of course. And I wouldn't say no to him playing his guitar, but I don't want to invite all my friends. We're going to probably hang out during the day, like at the beach or something, but I just wanted it to be us for dinner." I hated to deflate one of her ideas, and she really looked disappointed. And a little stunned. "But you have to have a sweet sixteen. Everyone does it. Remember mine?" I cleared my throat. "Uh, barely because you thought a fourteen-year-old shouldn't hang around too long at a sweet sixteen." Emily laughed. "I remember. What a spoiled princess I was," she said as if it was years ago. "I sure hope I can handle myself better when I'm a bride. Joshua would hate it if I turned into one of those Godzilla brides." Her comment was meant to be humorous, but I had a hard time even forcing a smile. Hearing her talk about marrying Joshua made me sad. It
shouldn't have. If Emily married Joshua, it meant he'd always be in my life. But the thought of it still made me depressed. If only because I knew I'd never find anyone as awesome as Joshua, and I'd be comparing my boyfriends to him for the rest of my life. Emily reached forward and grabbed my hands. "I'll let you go to bed. I just wanted to tell you my idea. You still have a few months until your birthday. Maybe you'll change your mind. I'm sure, even with late notice, we can still get the Domino Dogs to perform. I've got a special in with the band." She laughed as she hopped off the bed. She crossed the room and opened the door but then stopped to stare down at the cinderblock. I knew a question was coming. A dozen silly excuses went through my head, but the one that kept popping to the top was the truthful one. The one that wasn't at all silly, but the one that was so difficult to say, it was almost impossible to think about. "Why on earth to do you have one of the garden wall bricks in your room?" Many times I had wanted to tell Emily what I'd kept so tightly bound in my chest, but I'd never had the courage. I didn't want to mess things up. I had a family, a sister, a stepmom. My dad had a wife he was nuts about, and I'd never seen him happier. I got up from the bed, and the tingling
sensations that sometimes made my limbs feel like heavy rubber started before I could take my first step. I wasn't sure what prompted me, but it might have been those same tingling sensations acting as a catalyst for me to talk. "Actually, Emily, there is something I've kind of wanted to talk to you about." I couldn't keep the shakiness out of my voice. She didn't turn back to look at me, but she glanced down at the dent the brick had left on the edge of the door. Then she looked down the hallway at the other bedroom doors. "Uh, I'm kind of tired, Becca." The earlier enthusiastic tone of her voice had deflated, and her voice was nearly as shaky as mine. She couldn't even turn to look at me when she spoke. "Maybe tomorrow, ok?" With that, she hurried out almost as fast as she had raced in. The tingling grew stronger, and I had to consciously remember to breathe. I hurried to push the block in front of the door. With the door secure, I stumbled back to my bed, grabbed Piggie to me and dove under the covers.
CHAPTER 32
JOSHUA
I
jammed the mop into the bucket. "You missed a spot," Dylan joked as he walked into the barroom. "Just kidding. Fuck, are you ever going to stop looking like the boy who lost his puppy? I warned you that Becca was flighty and overdramatic. You should—" "Dylan, stop. I can't listen to another one of your asshole 'told you so' lectures. I just can't fucking listen again." He held up his hands. "Fine. I'm done with being an asshole." He walked back to the office. "Yeah, I seriously doubt that," I quipped as I rolled the mop bucket to the back alley. It had been two long weeks since Rebecca had stopped answering my calls and texts. I'd finally decided to take the hint and stop trying to contact her. Asshole or not, it seemed this time Dylan was right.
Everything had been going great. Or at least that was how I saw it, but Rebecca had obviously decided it wasn't working for her. It would have been nice to be able to talk to her face to face one more time, just to hash things out. More than once, I'd thought about driving to the city to see her. But I'd stopped myself. She'd already broken my heart clean in half. I didn't need her to stomp on it too. I dumped the dirty water out in the alley and carried the mop and bucket back inside. The alley door didn't snap shut like usual. I swung around to see what had stopped it from closing. Rebecca was standing just inside the door. She looked pale and weary. Her fingers shook as she reached up to push her hair behind her ear. "Rebecca?" "Where's Dylan?" she asked sharply. "I need to see him." Stunned speechless, I pointed toward the office. She marched past me, almost as if we hadn't been in a wild love affair just weeks earlier. She walked past me almost as if she hadn't seen me standing there. I followed behind her angry strides as she headed through the backroom door. She walked into the bar area. "Dylan, where the fuck are you?" I walked out and stared at her. As mad and determined as she looked, she also looked one step away from falling apart into a million pieces.
Dylan came around the corner. His face turned to white stone when he saw her standing in the bar. "What the hell are you doing here?" Rebecca turned to me. "Joshua, please go. I need to talk to Dylan." I stared at her for long enough that it seemed to crack that confident facade she'd been working on. Reluctantly, I turned to go. "No, wait," she called. "Stay." I turned back around. Her eyes were glassy with tears. "I'm always a stronger person when you're near. And I need every ounce of my strength." "I don't have time for your silly, fucking dramatics, Becca," Dylan said. "It seems you haven't grown up at all." "That's what you wish," she said to his back. "You wish I were still that scared, confused little girl, the girl you took full fucking advantage of." She marched toward him. "You sent that picture. You were worried that Joshua and I were getting too close and that I might let him in on our dirty, little secret. Actually, it's not my secret at all. It's yours. And I kept it for you because I was embarrassed and scared and I didn't want to ruin my dad's happiness. I kept it in all these years." Her shoulders shook but the tears had slowed. And each word was splitting me apart. As I sorted them out, I tried hard to find another
meaning for them. One that wouldn't be impossible to swallow. I forced myself to look at Dylan. His mouth was tight. Nothing about him looked familiar, as if he was wearing someone else's face. "But it wasn't a secret really," Rebecca continued. Her hands were in tight balls. "It's coming clear to me now. I was too young then and Emily was too. The truth was too much for her to accept. So she ignored it. She ignored the harsh reality that her brother had a big problem. That's why Emily and I couldn't have friends spend the night. That's why Michelle kept urging you to find jobs away from Camden Beach." Rebecca took another step toward him. "I tried to stop the constant nightmares. I even tried to step in front of a bus just to knock out the memories, to wipe you away for good, but you were always there, in the back of my mind. Anytime I felt happy or as if things were going well, I thought about you, and it just wiped me right back to despair. Everything was going perfectly. I had a new sister, a stepmom . . . but you fucking ruined it!" I stepped farther into the room and stopped ten feet from the guy who I'd known for years. Only it seemed I didn't know him at all. I stared at his worried face. "What. The. Fuck. Did you do?" My pulse was pounding in my ears and my fists were tight. Dylan released an ugly laugh. "She's fucking
nuts. She's always been nuts." "I was thirteen. Most kids think there are monsters hiding under their beds, but my monster slept just down the hall." "Boogeyman," I said, absently, not even realizing it fell from my mouth. I looked at Rebecca. I would have given anything to wipe away the agony in her expression. "You let one boogeyman go." My words pushed the tears from her eyes, and they ran down her pale cheeks. I turned back to Dylan. "I'm going to fucking kill you." I ran at him and threw my right hook before he even knew it was coming. Crooked fingers or not, my fist struck a satisfying blow. Bones cracked and blood sprayed across the floor I had just finished mopping. "No," Rebecca screamed. "Don't, Joshua. I don't want this. I just wanted to let you know what kind of man your friend and partner is." Dylan was still shaking off the stars when I turned to her. "I didn't know, Rebecca. I promise I had no idea. If I had . . ." My words choked off, and I spun back with my fist ready to pound Dylan. Rebecca grabbed my arm and swung me toward her. "I know." Tears dripped over her chin. "You've always been a friend, Joshua." She sobbed. "I've loved you since I could remember knowing what being in love was. You were always there. You kept
me from getting swallowed into that ugly darkness that followed me around like a rain cloud." She grabbed my face between her hands and kissed me. "That's right. There it is. The kiss of betrayal. Just like the kiss that broke Emily's heart," Dylan sneered from behind his hand. Rebecca stood as still as a statue as she looked at him. "What are you talking about?" "Mindy's text." Dylan grabbed a dish towel from the bar and wiped his bloody nose. It was definitely not the same nose he had ten minutes ago. "Shut the fuck up, Dylan." I shook my head slightly. "You're heading to fucking jail." "What text?" Rebecca placed her hand against the bar to steady herself as if she already knew the answer. "The one Mindy sent Emily just before the crash. Just before Emily died," Dylan sneered. "It was on her phone. You know Mindy. She was always more enemy than friend to Em. She texted Emily all about the kiss at the party. The time showed that it was the last thing Emily saw before she died." Rebecca looked to the one person who knew for sure. Her green eyes were glazed with tears as she turned to me, her lips quivering in despair. "Joshua?" she asked weakly, as if she had to use all her energy to say it.
I stared back at her, unable to speak. I was suddenly no longer standing in real time. Everything was moving slowly, and I was stupidly trying to find a way to erase the last few minutes. The color of anger that had risen in Rebecca's face washed away. She swayed and I reached for her, but she dashed through the bar to the back door. I raced after her. "Rebel, please don't. Emily knew you loved her." She pushed out into the alley where her car was parked. I had to keep myself from touching her. "Rebecca, just stay. I'll get my keys and drive you to my house. I don't want you to drive like this." She opened her car door and used it as a barrier between us. "I don't blame you for anything, Joshua." "Rebecca, stop. What are you going to do about Dylan?" Just thinking about what he'd done made me want to puke. She shook her head. "No, this is my problem. Not yours." She slid into her car. I watched helplessly as she drove off. I walked back into the bar. Dylan was leaning against the counter holding a bag of ice against his face. He lowered it. "She's full of shit. I never touched her." I headed across the floor and threw my fist into
his already broken nose. He doubled over and struggled to regain his balance. I stood in front of him with my arms out. "Take a shot. It'll give me a reason to hit you again." Blood trickled over the bag of ice, and his eyes were starting to blacken. "Hit me, you fucker." I shoved him hard against the bar. "Come on, asshole. If you're so innocent, take your best shot. Or maybe you're not fighting back because you know you deserve it." He pressed the ice to his face again and stared at me through swollen eyes. I stuck my finger in his face. "Find that business card so we can sell this place. You and I are no longer partners." I walked to the back, grabbed my keys off the hook and slammed out the back door. I needed to leave before I fucking killed him.
CHAPTER 33
REBECCA
I
had been balled up on the bed for so long when I went to unfurl my limbs, I could barely feel my arms and legs. My head was empty and dizzy from crying, and I was so dehydrated, it felt like I'd been hiking across the desert with no canteen. I shuffled to the kitchen for a glass of water. I was supposed to feel better. I'd finally let loose of something that had been festering inside of me for years, but I felt more lost than ever. I'd been sitting in my little apartment feeling heartbroken and sick and then it occurred to me that Dylan had ruined my life not once, but twice. He'd sent that picture for no reason other than to break up my relationship with Joshua. A half bottle of wine had convinced me that after all this time I needed to confront Dylan for
what he’d done. It was his turn to suffer. I'd gone through the scene and my words over and over again, but not once during those hours of mentally visualizing the scene had Dylan come back at me with something so hurtful it almost made what he'd done seem unimportant. There had been a text. The text that explained why Michelle had so quickly decided she no longer wanted Dad and me in the house. And it seemed everyone knew about it but me. I suppose I should have been thankful that at least they spared me that agony. It seemed Joshua knew too. He knew but he never said anything to me. He wouldn't. I sipped down the water. My throat felt achy from so much crying. Just a week ago I was flitting around my apartment, whistling and thinking dreamy thoughts about Joshua. Now I felt so drained of happiness, I was sure I'd never feel it again. My life had been a roller coaster of ups and downs. The first major ride downhill was my own mom leaving. I'd always known she wasn't all that thrilled to be a mother, and I knew that my parents fought far too often. But it was hard to understand just how easily she could walk out on Dad and me. Then we'd both found a new family and things seemed wonderful. But that ended with Dylan, and it seemed my roller coaster car started taking a lot more dips than climbs. But knowing that Emily had died thinking I betrayed her by kissing Joshua, that
was just too hard to absorb. And I had betrayed her. I betrayed her because along with the dark secret I kept inside, there had always been another secret. I had been in love with Joshua almost from the start. It had begun as just a teenage crush. For the longest time, I was sure I'd outgrow it and some other boy would sweep me off my feet. But it never happened. There had been other boys, but none of them were Joshua. None of them even came close. That secret I kept close to my heart, never to be revealed to anyone. I was going to take it to my grave. But all it took was too much beer and a scary incident with Gregory, an incident that surfaced all the horror of my encounters with Dylan, and I threw myself right into Joshua's arms. There was no way to stop myself. I knew his arms were the only ones that could ease my fears and my pain. He was the only person I ever trusted. My phone buzzed, and I glanced absently at the screen. It was the bank letting me know I was overdrawn. On top of everything else, I'd lost my job. Soon I'd be standing on the sidewalk with my sofa bed. I picked up the phone. "Becca? Is everything all right?" I sniffled once and then took a deep breath. I didn't want to alarm him. "Dad? I know it's late there, but I just had to call." "Sweetheart, you sound upset. What's wrong?"
"First, I'm sorry I broke up your marriage to Michelle." My voice trembled, but I was too drained of tears to shed any more. "I know it was my fault." He paused so long I looked at the phone to see if we were still connected. "Rebecca, the breakup had nothing to do with you. It was the terrible tragedy. It changed Michelle. Can't blame her. We all changed. Emily's loss was just too much for all of us to deal with." "Dad? Can I come home? I mean, home to you." "Becca, sweetheart, of course. I can't wait for you to get here. I need so much help. Did you get the video I emailed? Of the baby goats?" "I'll look right now. Dad, just hearing your voice is making me feel better." I walked over to my computer and wiggled the mouse. I opened the short clip of two squeaky adorable baby goats drinking from a bottle. "So, now you're also a goat farmer?" "They help keep the weeds down in the vineyard. These two babies need a mom, so be ready to take over for me." "They are adorable." I sighed. "If I must, then I guess I'm up to the task. Dad, I hate to sound like the biggest loser in the world, but I need a plane ticket. I sort of lost my job." "Finally told off the old witch, huh?"
"In a big way." "Good. She deserved it. I'll go online and get you a ticket right now." "Thanks. Oh, and Dad—there's something I need to tell you. I'll wait until I see you in person. It's something important. I don't want to talk about it over the phone." "Rebecca?" The concern coming through the phone was almost palpable. "Not now, Dad. I don't have the strength to talk about it right now. I'll see you soon. Love you." "Love you too. I'll let you know about the flight times. Bye, sweetheart." I dropped the phone on the desk and watched the goat video a few more times for no other reason except they provided a few seconds of pure pleasure. A knock on the door made me jump. I got up, walked to the door and looked through the peephole. It was Joshua. His face was drawn with grief. I took a deep breath and opened the door. His pale gaze held mine as his throat moved with a deep swallow. Before he could find his words, mine fell right from my mouth. "You lied. She did hate me. She knew about the kiss." "No, she blamed me for that. She didn't hate you. She loved you." I took hold of his hand and stared down at it.
"You've always worked hard to protect me, Josh." "I sure as hell failed at that. I didn't know. Why didn't you tell me? I would have helped you." I shook my head and took hold of his hand. I couldn't talk about it anymore. I pulled him inside. He went to open his mouth again, but I pressed my fingers against his lips. I shook my head again. "No words. Everything is in the past now. There's only one thing I need right now. These arms. The only arms I've ever needed." I led him to the bed, and we sat against the cushions. I crawled onto his lap, and he wrapped his arms around me.
CHAPTER 34
JOSHUA
T
he shower steam had seeped beneath the bathroom door, and the familiar smell of Rebecca's shampoo followed it. I'd held her in my lap until we both dozed off into a long nap. The entire time she was in my arms, all I could do was think about how scared she must have been as a young girl in a new house with a new family and a predatory stepbrother. There were times, when she didn't realize I was watching her, when I saw a sort of unexplained sadness drift over her pretty face, but I'd always just passed it off as teenage angst. I guess I'd been too damn wound up in my own shit to notice that she was going through something horrible. The shower turned off, and I waited for Rebecca to come out. She hadn't wanted to talk about anything. I couldn't blame her. But it seemed
there was a lot to say, a lot to untangle. The bathroom door opened and she came around the corner with her wet hair combed back off her face. Her green eyes were still slightly puffy from all the tears. She was wearing the infamous Iron Maiden tshirt and nothing else. The worn fabric clung to her still moist skin outlining her breasts and nipples. She knelt on the bed and brought her lips right up to mine. "Joshua," she said softly. It was all I needed to hear. I took her in my arms and rolled her down on the mattress. My mouth clamped down over hers as my hands pushed the shirt up to expose her breasts. She pushed up my shirt, and I pulled it off and slid my shorts off next. I lowered myself down over her so that every inch of our naked skin could touch. She mewled softly as my bare chest rubbed against her taut nipples. I placed my hand against her face and gazed down at her as I pushed my cock inside of her. Her head pushed back into the pillow as she took in all of me. "Fuck, baby," I growled against her lips. "You were made for me." "No," she whispered, "You were made for me." I scooped her ass up with my hand and held her so that I could penetrate her deeply. I swept into her, making sure to rub against her pussy, bringing
heat and friction to her clit. While I held her ass, I slipped a finger into the tight hole. She moaned in appreciation, and I pushed it a little deeper. She squeezed her legs around me as I penetrated her everywhere. She responded by clamping her pussy tightly, so tightly she brought me close to the edge. She dropped her hands from me and clutched at the sheets as I dug into her. Her body blushed with pink heat and her thighs trembled as she came. Her pussy pulsed around my cock and milked me to orgasm. I rested down on my elbows and held her face in my hands as I kissed her lightly on the lips. "I love you, Rebel. Always have. Always will. Just thought I should put that out there." She stared up at me with a look that I could easily read. "You're going to live on the vineyard," I said, not as a question. She didn't answer. I rolled off of her. She turned to face me. "I have no job, no money. I'm sorry." She picked up a strand of my hair and curled it around her finger. "You should come with me." I huffed a short laugh. "Right." I turned on my back and she climbed on top of me. She smoothed her hands over my chest. "I'm serious. My dad needs a pair of strong arms to help
out. And so do I." She trailed her fingers along my arms. "And only these will do." "Shit, Rebel, I've got the business and the house and Portugal is a long ways away." She rested down on top of me, folded her hands across my chest and rested her chin on them. "Just thought you might consider it. Besides, if you don't, you'll never see this t-shirt again." "Sounds vaguely like rock t-shirt blackmail." I reached up and pushed her hair behind her ears. "I know you don't want to talk about it but what about Dylan?" She scooted off of me and sat on the bed next to me. I took hold of her hand. The topic had drained some of the color from her face. "There's nothing to do. Michelle has no one left but Dylan. And I just can't go back to that time and relive things. It was only three times. Then I grew up enough to figure out ways to avoid ever being alone with him. And I booby trapped my room with a big cinderblock so he couldn't open the door without making a lot of noise." "I was always so damn busy protecting you from the boys around the neighborhood, I never realized what was happening inside the house. I'll never forgive myself for that." "No, you can't blame yourself. Shit, Josh, there were times when I thought you were the only person keeping me from falling apart. I could be in
the worst mood and then I'd see you and I'd think you were like this magical piece of my world, the piece where nothing bad could happen." I sat up against the cushions. "I should have paid better attention to you. And if it's true that Emily knew, then everything I have stored in my head and my heart about her is tainted." "No, don't say that. Emily was young and scared. I'm sure it was impossible for her to think anything bad about her brother. Don't ever let this change your opinion of her. She was so crazy about you. Always. Even when she complained about tattered rock and roll t-shirts she was still nuts about you." Rebecca looked so weary and upset from everything, I couldn't stop myself from pulling her onto my lap. "You're right. I'm just having such a hard time absorbing all this. And shit, the biggest ball breaker of all is that I actually grew closer with Dylan. Started a fucking business with him. What a clueless idiot I've been." "How could you have known? Dylan was a popular guy in town. People always admired him. His mom had him up on a damn pedestal, and she even knew something wasn't quite right with him." "A pedestal. Just like the one my dad had set my mom upon. And she so didn't deserve to be there." I stroked her back. "I went back to talk to Dylan, I messed him up good." I showed her my
swollen knuckles. "Almost messed up the lousy ass surgery the doctor did on my fingers too. I told Dylan he would either have to buy me out or we needed to sell the place because the partnership was over. He was nursing his broken nose with ice packs and aspirin. He couldn't even look at me. He knew he deserved it. The fact that he didn't even try to fight back or clobber me, which he could have easily done, assured me of that. I told him he needed to find someone, a psychologist or someone to talk to. He just nodded. All I know is, I don't even want to be in the same fucking room with him." "I really unleashed a shit storm." Rebecca rested her head against my shoulder. "No, you opened my eyes, Rebel. And now you're leaving me, and you're taking my heart with you." "That's all right. I'm leaving mine here with you to take its place." She lifted her head and looked at me. "And I'll keep yours safe until you come to your senses and realize you can't live without me."
CHAPTER 35
REBECCA
I
'd dreaded the day as much as I'd looked forward to it. I was desperate to see my dad and the vineyard. But I was in total despair about leaving Joshua behind. He was gripping the wheel extra tight, and there was the tiniest flicker of movement in his cheek. It was that little muscle that twitched whenever he was upset. I had spent the last few days at his house, even lending a hand to help him paint the kitchen. It had been a blissful few days. In between, I'd worked up the courage to talk to Michelle. It was the hardest thing I'd ever done. But Joshua had convinced me that if Michelle knew, she might keep better track of Dylan. Hopefully she'd keep him going to the doctor he'd started seeing. Michelle had been cold at first, but as I told her the terrible secret, she
crumbled into tears and we held each other for a long time. But there was still one person I needed to say good-bye to. "Hey, do you mind turning off here? I just need to make a quick stop before we hit the freeway." Joshua looked confused at first, but it didn't take him long to figure out where we were headed. Clusters of flowers dotted the verdant green hills of the cemetery as we drove inside. The towering stone mortuary looked down at us through stained glass windows as Joshua's car rolled past at the ten mile speed limit. A funeral must have been about to start because the shallow marble steps in front of the mortuary were covered in slow moving people wearing dark clothes and even darker sunglasses. I hadn't been to the cemetery since the Christmas after the accident. Then, when Michelle, Dad and I drove through, the hills were a little less green from the winter frost and the rows of graves were decorated with poinsettias and evergreen wreaths. Some people had even decorated tiny trees to place on their loved one's gravesite. Michelle had brought white roses and she'd lamented not having thought to bring a tree. But she didn't know. Cemetery visits were still new to her back then. Joshua knew exactly which tree lined road to
turn down. The green bench that sat adjacent to Emily's grave had a row of sparrows sitting across it twittering a song for the sleeping guests. I looked over at Joshua. His mouth was pulled into a grim line, and it seemed he was hardly taking any breaths. "Have you been here lately?" I asked. He shook his head and pulled the car over. He was still gripping the steering wheel hard, almost as if he was reliving those awful moments when his car had spun out of control. "I did so many things wrong that day," he said quietly. "If only there was a way to pluck certain days right up and out of your life, like pulling weeds out of the flower garden," I said. "Pick them and toss them away so that they never happened. Then they couldn't ruin the rest of the garden." I leaned back and stared out at the rows of headstones. Two elderly women were having a glass of wine on a grave across the way. Two sisters, possibly, having a toast with a departed loved one. I reached over and touched Joshua's arm. It startled him out of his thoughts. "You don't have to come out, Joshua. I just need to have a few words with her." He didn't answer, so I climbed out of the car. I walked carefully between the stones to Emily's. There were a few pink roses sitting in the vase in front of it. Michelle had, no
doubt, left them there. It was always surreal seeing her name etched in the stone and the dates below, that seemed all wrong. I fingered the letters of her name. "Hey, Em, I'm leaving town, and I just wanted to say thank you for being my sister. Thank you for helping me dye my hair weird colors, even when it left your fingers blue. Thank you for teaching me how to put on makeup and how to make scrambled eggs. Thanks for not getting mad when I wore your favorite jeans and ripped them on Peggy's sprinkler. I know you wanted to yell at me but you didn't. You were the prettiest, smartest most wonderful sister a girl could have, and I'll never forget you." I stared down at the pink roses. The petals were fluttering in the breeze. I watched until the loosest one broke free and jumped and rolled across the grass, before settling on the neighboring headstone of Mildred Hamptom, who had lived to the ripe old age of ninety, a proper age for dying. I looked back at the wilting flowers because it was hard to look at Emily's name. It always made the whole thing too damn real. "Emily, the kiss was just a split second decision. I was upset, and, as always, Joshua was there to keep me safe. He was standing there, looking every bit the trusted friend I knew him to be, so I kissed him." I rubbed my nose with the back of my hand. "Not that I didn't have a major crush on him.
Because I did. Can you blame me? But I never, ever would have done anything to come between you. Because as much as I loved Joshua, I would have died of a broken heart before doing anything to hurt you. I'm sorry about the kiss." I heard Joshua’s steps behind me. "Bye, Em." I pushed to my feet and walked past Joshua and got in the car. He stood over her headstone for a long time. He discretely wiped his eyes. I could see his mouth move, but it was hard to know what he said. He turned and walked back to the car with his long hair, black jeans and pale blue eyes. The accident had left him crushed with guilt and heartbreak, and it had stolen any chance of him fulfilling his dream as a bass guitarist in a band. But to me, Joshua was always going to be a mega rock star.
CHAPTER 36
JOSHUA
Four months later Jeremy, it's me. Just wanted to let you "H ey, know the house closes tomorrow, and I'll wire you the money after that. Hope everyone is well there. I'm just packing up the last of Dad's things. I'm going to donate it all to Goodwill. Let me know if there was anything of his you wanted, and I'll mail it to you. Talk to you later." I put the phone in my pocket and grabbed another empty box. The sale of the bar had closed just the week before, and now my childhood home was being packed up so that the new owners could move in with their two little kids and dog. Camden Beach was a good place to raise a family, but I no longer had any ties to the town. Most of my friends
had married and moved away or started families. I stopped and looked at the stacks of boxes sitting in the center of an empty room that was heavily populated with dust bunnies. It really hadn't been a home since Dad died. He made it a place to come home to, a place to feel happy and secure. The house itself meant little to me without my dad sitting in his easy chair doling out tidbits of knowledge and life theories. Rebecca and I had spoken mostly through text messages. Although those weren't always successful. Technology still had its limits when you were standing out on a century old vineyard. She said it all depended on where she was standing in the yard and if the sun and the trees and all the various elements of nature were lined up perfectly. I was happy to tell her that Trent’s place got shut down by the health department. I doubted it was the cockroach she planted but it was good to know he hadn’t succeeded. She was having a blast, and at the end of every text conversation, she always let me know that there was plenty of work on the vineyard for me. I'd had so much business to take care of with the house and selling the bar, I hadn't had time to think about a job. Dylan and I had only exchanged words that dealt with dissolving the business. I was glad he was out of my life for good. I'd left Dad's books for last. Something about them made me miss him more. Maybe because I
knew he'd held each one in his hands a long time. Some even had the lingering smell of his aftershave and stale cigar smoke from the few times a month he'd splurge and buy himself an expensive cigar. He would suck on the thing with his eyes closed and his nostrils wide, breathing and tasting it as if he was eating fine chocolate. I pulled his signed copy of Moby Dick off the shelf. It was an old edition that he claimed was worth a lot of money, but when he had it appraised, it turned out the author's signature was a fake. But he’d still insisted it was valuable. As I lowered it into the box, a card fell out. He was always shoving pictures and cards and letters into books for safe keeping. I picked up the card and turned it over. It was a handmade Valentine card, complete with glittery paper hearts. I opened it up and recognized the writing immediately. It must have been old because she was still drawing little hearts and smiley faces over her letters. Hey Mr. Hardy, I thought I'd make you a Valentine's Day Card since we're both suffering from the terrible pain of unrequited love. (How do you like that big word? Learned that one in
English class the other day, and I'm thrilled to have a chance to give it a test drive.) I know you read a lot of books, but just in case you don't know the word, it means not reciprocated. (Don't you love it when a word's definition is even more complicated than the actual word?) Anyhow, even though Valentine's Day is a terrible day for those of us who suffer from eternal heartbreak, try and have a good time anyway. I'm making sure to eat extra chocolate to make up for the pain. Love, Rebecca. P.S. Joshua gave Emily a little heart bracelet. Isn't he wonderful? Oh heart be still. Remember. Eat chocolate. It was probably the first time I'd smiled in months. Of course, it was Rebecca and pretty much everything about her made me smile. Even an old Valentine's card that was leaving a pile of red glitter
in the dust on the floor. The day I took Rebecca to the airport, we had kissed and hardly said a word to each other. It was too hard. Life had separated us after the accident, but almost from the first second she'd popped back into my life with the early morning, scattered phone call about boogeymen, she was back fully in my life. Like she had never left. It was always so natural between us, two people who had always been meant for each other but who had been kept apart by a string of circumstances. Even the timing of our births had put a chasm between us. It was hard to know just how different things would’ve been if I'd been two years younger and had met Rebecca instead of Emily on the first day of high school. But none of that mattered now. And that long string of circumstances was no longer important. I'd let the love of my life fly off to another continent because I was still punishing myself for loving her. I was such a jackass. I was done feeling guilty about it.
CHAPTER 37
REBECCA
I
tore a chunk of the crusty bread off and dipped it in the bowl of freshly churned butter. "Dad, I'm taking the jeep into town for some potatoes and fish," I called out the open window of the kitchen. A short rain had passed through the river valley, leaving behind tiny crystals of water on the vines, along with a rainbow arching high over the river. Sometimes, I opened my eyes in the morning and looked out the two French doors of my cottage and pinched myself to make sure I hadn’t woken up in a story book. Dad's vineyard was nestled amongst rolling hills, each planted in rows of grape vines that flowed along in unison with the slopes, making it almost seem as if the entire vineyard was constantly in motion. Dad popped his head into the window. "Hey, get
some olive oil too." There were no screens on the front side of the house, which allowed the cool breeze from the river valley to sweep gently through the century old kitchen. Most of the kitchen still wore, with pride, the plaster and bricks of those earlier days. There was no shiny chrome or polished granite. Just a massive cooking hearth, blackened from decades of use, and a pitted wood table that was sturdy enough to live under. Dad had made several concessions to the modern world by hooking a refrigerator and oven up to the generator. When I first arrived, I was sure I'd go mad from boredom and nuts from not having a place to plug in my flat iron. But after a few weeks, my naturally wavy hair and the lack of major technology, namely television, seemed easier and easier to tolerate. The scenery and culture and relaxed life quickly made up for it. And who needed friends when you had farm animals. Seymour's bell alerted me to his arrival. The goat trotted into the kitchen and lifted his muzzle to search the edges of the table for something tasty. I grabbed a garden carrot from the basket and broke off the tip for him. He gobbled it up quickly. Dad came back to the window. All my life, Dad had been clean shaven. He'd always worn shirts with collars and buttons. Now he'd taken to wearing his hair long, and it had grown pale gray from the
sun. He almost always had a straw hat pushed down over his head, and today he was wearing his favorite overalls. The only thing about him, left behind from my childhood, was his laugh and his wonderful personality. Farm life had changed him dramatically. "And don't let that smelly goat in the jeep. He chewed off the edge of the seat last time you drove him into town." "That was my fault. He was hungry. I've already fed the herd, so he should be fine. Besides, he's my navigator. He bleats loudly when there are other animals blocking the road." Dad shook his head as he left the window. I grabbed my own straw hat off the hook and pressed it down over my wavy hair. My hair had lightened so much from the sun, and my skin was so tanned, I sometimes didn't recognize myself when I passed a mirror. I walked to the jeep. Seymour trotted behind, with his usual goat bell theme music. He jumped into the backseat and hung his head over the roll bar to play navigator. The road was narrow and especially rough after the rainstorm. The water had absorbed quickly into the brittle ground, but it had managed to carve out some deep ruts on its way down to the river. Seymour's bell clanged with each bump in the road. He did an impressive job of staying on all four
feet as we wobbled along the path. The glove box in the jeep popped open, like it always did when I hit a bump just right. I reached over to slam it shut just as I circled the bend that led away from the river valley. The stupid thing flopped open again, and I reached wildly for the registration card as it flew past. Seymour's bell clanged and he let out a low bleat. I snatched the card, shoved it into the glove box and snapped the warped door shut. As I sat up, a tall figure stepped seemingly out of nowhere. My hat pushed back and nearly flew off as I leaned forward and smeared some of the dust off the windshield. An excited cry shot from my mouth, pulling Seymour's attention to the front seat. His bell clanged loudly in my ear, and I pushed his head back. The figure was still a good five hundred yards away, and I considered the possibility that I was just imagining him, like a thirsty person seeing a mirage of cool water in the desert. I'd daydreamed so often about seeing Joshua, about having him show up in Portugal, that I was sure I'd just conjured him. Seymour bleated again and stared ahead with his gold eyes. I was fairly certain that the goat hadn't been daydreaming about Joshua. It was him. He was in Portugal. My heart nearly leapt from my chest.
Joshua stepped off the road to avoid the mad woman and her goat as they careened downhill in their rickety jeep. He kept his face down to avoid the dust from the road as we motored by. I stopped a few feet past him and stepped out of the jeep. "Hey, you look lost. Do you need a ride?" Joshua froze in his footsteps. His heavy backpack swung around as he turned back to me. "Looking for someone special?" I took off my hat and tossed it into the jeep. He slid the backpack off his shoulders and let it drop to the ground. "As a matter of fact I am. I think the girl I love lives somewhere in these green hills. Maybe you've seen her. She's about so high." He held up his hand. "And she has green eyes and a perfect smile." He walked closer, and everything about him melted my heart. He reached up and touched the tip of my nose. "And she has exactly twelve freckles on her nose. I know because I've counted them while she was sleeping. And she may or may not be wearing my Iron Maiden t-shirt. Oh and—" He stopped to fish something out of his pocket. He pulled out the packet of candy. "She loves Pop Rocks." I grabbed the candy from his hand and threw my arms around his neck. We kissed long enough for Seymour to finally get bored and hop down from the jeep. He pushed against the back of my knee with his nose. I reluctantly pulled my lips from
Joshua. We both stared down at Seymour, a goat who had no problem looking people straight in the eye. This time his annoyed goat gaze was trained on Joshua. "It's a goat," Joshua said, finally. "And he looks mad that I've got my arms around you." "He's probably a little perturbed, but the most he'll do is head butt you. Just watch out for your knee caps." "Right." Joshua lifted his gaze back to my face. He pushed a wavy strand of my hair back behind my ear. "I like it with some curl. And I like these curves too." He checked that Seymour wasn't keeping too close a watch and slid his hand down over my ass. "Holy shit, have I missed you, Rebel. Are you surprised to see me?" I shrugged. "Not entirely. I told Dad you'd come eventually because you were madly and hopelessly in love with me." "I like your confidence. And yep. Pretty much had to come find out what my Rebel Love was up to out here in the middle of—" He looked around at the picturesque scenery. "An oil painting. This is incredible. No wonder you could never find time to text me back. I was almost thinking you'd found someone else, some tall, smooth Portuguese fisherman with a heavy accent and a silver earring." "Oh, you mean Franco?" His face dropped instantly.
I kissed him. "I'm kidding. Franco works in the vineyard. He's four feet tall and four feet wide with a nose the shape of cauliflower. And as my dad would say, he's a bloody genius when it comes to grapes. My dad's picked up all kinds of salty international language since he moved to Europe. He's quite changed. You won't even recognize him. He's given up his razor, tailored shirts and monthly trips to the barber. And he'll be happy to have more strong arms to help around the farm." "Huh, is that right? What about you?" He tightened his embrace and pulled me closer. "Oh, I've always been happy to have strong arms around me, especially when they belong to you." I leaned back. "You don't happen to have peanut butter and jelly sandwiches in that backpack? PB and J is sorely lacking out here." "I might but first I need another kiss." His mouth lowered to mine. "Forever mine, Rebel Love."
ALSO BY TESS OLIVER
Read Wingman
"I'd taken that proverbial road trip to 'find myself', and along the way, I'd also found the person who I needed to keep myself whole."
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Tess Oliver is a New York Times & USA Today bestselling author of sexy romances. She’s always working on new and exciting projects. You can stay up to date, and get a free book by visiting her website and subscribing to her newsletter. www.tessoliver.com
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