Promise Me Nothing (Hermosa Beach Book 1)

by Jillian Liota

  At least we have the one thing you definitely need when you’re sick.

  Money.

  I can’t imagine going through something like this and not being able to get the medication you need or see the doctor you want. We will be able to throw money at an independent party to dive into finding a bone marrow match. Pay for Ivy’s needs, whether small or large.

  It’s a welcome relief in the grand scheme of everything weighing down on us right now.

  I glance in the back seat and see Ivy, sleeping soundly, her head resting on a soft pillow she brought with her.

  She falls asleep pretty easily, now. She has ever since she was diagnosed. I guess it’s the fatigue, along with the fact she has trouble eating. When my mom first told me about what was going on with Ivy, it was right before I’d left for San Francisco.

  “She just needs some iron supplements,” she’d told me. “It’s not a big deal.”

  Turns out it was a fucking blood disease that’s going to slowly kill her if she doesn’t get this transplant. I’d say that’s a pretty big deal.

  My mother and I stay silent during most of the drive. She sits in the passenger seat, her eyes staring out of the window, watching as we whiz past traffic in the fast lane.

  “It’s going to be okay,” I tell her, my voice low.

  I know Ivy can’t hear what I’m saying, but there’s something that makes me feel like if I can tell this to my mom without awakening the evils that caused this disease in the first place, maybe the threats facing us won’t be able to see where we stand, shaking with fear. Maybe they’ll turn around and head a different direction.

  “Don’t lie to me, Wyatt,” she says, her voice sounding fragile and small. “You can say that to Ivy. But not to me.”

  We go back to being quiet my mother’s words weighing heavily on me for the rest of the drive.

  Once we get back to the house, my mom heads straight inside, presumably to make herself a stiff drink and pop an anti-anxiety pill. I open the rear door and lift Ivy out, carrying her into the house and upstairs to her room.

  I love this kiddo. She came around when I was a bit older, and if I’m honest, I hadn’t really wanted any new siblings at the time.

  But she’s a precious girl and I can’t imagine this world without her in it.

  “Wyatt,” she mumbles as I’m pulling off her shoes. Her eyes open and I’m struck by how young she looks as she curls up and snuggles into her bed. Am I really going to be okay? she asks, the fear in her eyes a bit more real today than it has been in the past.

  I tuck her under the comforter and give her a soft kiss her on the forehead.

  Of course you are, I sign, though I can’t help but whisper the words out loud as well, in hopes that some divine being can hear me.

  She nods and closes her eyes, and I sit there, watching her fall back asleep.

  I have to believe that she’s going to be okay.

  But in order to believe that, I also have to know that I’ve done everything possible to ensure that’s the truth.

  Once I’ve stepped out of her room, pulling the door shut softly behind me, I dig my phone out of my pocket.

  Time to make the last call I thought I’d ever make.

  Two days later, I park my bike behind Bennie’s and take a second to yank off my helmet.

  Technically, you’re not allowed to drive motorcycles onto the pier grounds, including the area near the row of restaurants that sit at the base, between the pier and the city. But no one ever checks the back alley that runs behind all of the restaurants sitting along the south side of Pier Avenue.

  And because my brother happens to be the Ben, of Bennie’s at the Pier, no one is going to dare call in my bike to HBPD, just like they wouldn’t dare call in my mother’s Escalade.

  I’m here for multiple reasons today, but also because sometimes, when you have shit going on in your family, you just need to drink a beer with the only person who can understand.

  I find Ben at the table I normally sit at on the rooftop, sipping from a dark beer and staring out at the ocean.

  “Glenlivet, Single Malt,” I say to the approaching waitress before she can even get to the table. I know it’s rude of me, but I honestly can’t muster up the ability to care.

  Then I look at Ben, who is looking at me with that same neutral gaze. Always so careful, now. Because really, it’s been years since he’s been willing to show me who he really is.

  “I don’t think I have to tell you how…” I grip my hands into fists and try to find the right word, “…absolutely wrong it was for you to not show up on Tuesday.”

  Ben looks away, back out to the ocean, taking another sip of his beer.

  “She’s twelve fucking years old, and you couldn’t get over yourself for just a few hours? To ride in the damn car with us and sit through a meeting with a doctor?”

  “You have no idea…”

  “No. You have no idea.” I jab a finger into his chest, but he doesn’t budge an inch. I shake my head, grab one of the coasters off the table and fold it in half. “Doctor Lyons said she needs a transplant.”

  His head whips in my direction. “I thought the medication was doing okay.”

  “Yeah, well it does what it’s supposed to do, along with a bunch of other shit that can make her really damn sick. A transplant is her only option if she wants a chance at a normal life.”

  The waitress drops off my scotch, and it takes everything in me not to just tilt my head back and pour it all down the hatch in one go.

  “You can’t let your ego get in the way anymore.”

  “My ego,” he says, then laughs, though it sounds more bitter than anything. “Let me tell you something, Wyatt. The reason I don’t attend anything is because I’m not invited. I’m not allowed to be there. Not because I don’t want to be or because I’m too embarrassed to show my face.”

  “So buck the fuck up and show up anyway,” I grit out. “You think a twelve-year-old cares that you aren’t allowed to come to the hospital? Or to the house? No. She wants you to show up for her. And that’s what she deserves. Because she’s your sister.”

  We sit in silence for a moment, glaring at each other.

  He makes me so angry sometimes.

  We were never that close as children, since I was always so loud and intense while he was more the rule-follower who didn’t want anyone to look his way. But I like to think I understood him to some degree.

  Over the past few years, though, we’ve continued to drift further and further apart. It feels like the brother I loved, even though we were so different, isn’t even really in there anymore.

  I realize some of the rage I feel at Ben might be slightly misplaced. That some of this is the pain from finding out that Ivy really is sick-sick and not just I-need-meds sick.

  When I found out last year about the diagnosis, I hadn’t known how to feel. I drank too much. Tried to bury my fears with the false assurances of the first doctor Ivy had seen. It wasn’t until two months ago that they said she needed to go onto a drug regimen that they pump into her at the hospital once a week.

  That’s not a life for a twelve-year-old kid, going to and from the hospital on a regular basis. Ivy’s been through enough. She doesn’t need something like this hanging over her head as well.

  Which is why finding her a bone marrow transplant donor is my new number one priority. It should be the most important next step for all of us.

  Eventually, Ben finishes his beer, setting it right back in the ring of sweat it had been in before. He stays at the table instead of bolting down to his office like he normally does, and I assume it’s because he has something else on his mind.

  “I talked with Lucas today,” he finally says a few minutes later.

  My surprised eyes lift to meet his.

  Lucas and Ben have always been friendly, but it never occurred to me that they’d have any reason to talk about… well, anything, really. I guess I just assume my brother doesn’t talk to anyone any
more.

  “Whatever it is you two are planning…” he shakes his head and trails off. “Well, I just hope you’re thinking everything through, is all.” He knocks his fist twice on the table and stands up. “Let me know when the next meeting with Dr. Lyons is.”

  At that, he gives me a tight smile and finally leaves, heading back inside, down to his dungeon of an office.

  He’ll stay in there for the rest of the day, managing his business even though some parts of it run without him or are the responsibilities of others he has hired. But it’s what he does to avoid the real problems in his life.

  And to be honest, running away and hiding sounds like a much better option than anything else right now.

  But – I flip my phone over, seeing that the time has finally hit five o’clock – I have to stay. So I send off a few messages. One to my mom, letting her know that I’ve invited Ben to Ivy’s thirteenth birthday next month. One to my friend Derek in San Francisco, since he’s been bugging me about a girl he likes that I know.

  The last one goes to Lucas, though it takes me a few minutes, and a few more sips of my scotch, before I finally send it off.

  Me: Here

  He responds in almost no time at all.

  Lucas: Got it

  And then, I just sit and wait. Order another drink. Watch the sun begin to dip slowly behind a dusting of clouds on the horizon in the South Bay. I’ve done quite a bit of travel in my short twenty-four years, and there just aren’t any sunsets in the world that compare to this one.

  I’d bet my bike on it. And I don’t say that lightly.

  About twenty minutes goes by before I get another text from Lucas.

  Lucas: Outside

  I take one more look at the sunset, letting the glare singe my eyes just a bit before I toss back the rest of my drink, chuck a few twenties on the table, and head inside and down the stairs.

  I give a nod to Hamish as I walk through the main dining room, then push through the exit and head towards the back. Lucas’ voice carries as I round the corner to the loading bay where I’ve parked my FTR.

  “Don’t worry about it,” he says. “It happens here all the time.”

  “I am so, so sorry,” Hannah replies, and I can hear the true anguish in her voice. “I swear I thought I locked it up.”

  “Everything alright?”

  My question causes Hannah to look my direction, and I’m hit again with just how damn beautiful she is.

  She’s in her Bennie’s uniform. A maroon polo shirt and tight black pants. Her hair is down and loose around her shoulders, a slight kink lining the middle from where she’d likely had it up when she was working.

  She just got off work, a fact I knew before I got here. Something Lucas told me when we planned out the fact that I would be here right now.

  “Hannah’s bike got stolen,” I hear from Lucas, but I keep my eyes on her, since I already knew that was going to happen as well.

  She crosses her arms and looks like she’s on the verge of tears. Part of me feels like shit, knowing that she feels so guilty about it.

  “It happens all the time. It’s probably those guys that go around with bolt cutters in a backpack.”

  Hannah looks at me. “Really?”

  I nod. “Yeah.”

  “Let’s just head back to the house and get another bike.”

  Hannah looks to Lucas.

  “I have a few more. Don’t worry about this one. It isn’t a big deal. Really.”

  Then Lucas looks to me. “Wyatt, would you give Hannah a ride back to the house? I was meeting her here so we could ride home together after her shift, but now…”

  “No, I can walk,” she says, and her cute face purses.

  Lucas laughs. “Come on, Hannah. No reason to punish yourself when you didn’t do anything wrong. If you ride with Wyatt, it’ll just take a few minutes.” Then he looks at me. “If you have a few minutes, of course.”

  “Yeah, no problem. I’d be happy to give you a ride.” It’s the whole reason I’m here.

  Hannah looks at me and seems to consider it for a minute, nibbling at the inside of her cheek before nodding.

  “Awesome. See you back at the house, Hannah.”

  And then Lucas takes off down towards The Strand and back to his house, moving quickly, before Hannah can change her mind.

  “I’m sorry if I’m ruining any of your plans,” she says as she walks towards me, swinging her backpack onto her shoulders.

  “Not at all,” I say, heading over to my bike and swinging over a leg.

  “Wait. You’re taking me home on that?” Her eyes are massive and it makes me want to laugh.

  But then I realize it’s real fear that I’m seeing take over her face.

  “Have you never ridden a motorcycle before?”

  She shakes her head. “I just learned to ride a bicycle last year. Of course I’ve never ridden a motorcycle.”

  “Well the good news is that you have a helmet,” I point to the bike helmet in her hands. “Plus, it only takes a few minutes to get to Lucas’ house. And you won’t be steering, so really, it’s just like sitting on your bike, but with someone else in charge.”

  She eyes it warily for a minute before finally putting her helmet on her head. The look of determination when she clips the two straps together has me fighting to hide my grin.

  Then she looks at me. “If you fall over on this and smoosh me into the ground, I will be incredibly unhappy.”

  I laugh and instead take her hand in mine as she prepares to get on behind me. It’s an awkward shuffle as she figures it out, but once she’s sitting snug against my back, and her arms come around my middle, I realize it’s never felt more right to have someone on a bike with me.

  “Hold on, sweetheart.”

  And then I take off, down the alley and out to Hermosa Ave. Hannah squeals a little bit, a cute noise that conveys her surprise, and then she giggles and holds on to me tighter.

  I’d give anything to see her face right now, but I’ll gladly settle for her arms wrapped around me.

  I quickly push that thought aside, reminding myself that I can’t let my mind wander in that direction.

  Friends.

  Friends with Hannah.

  That’s the focus.

  When we finally get to Lucas’ house, I come to a stop in his driveway and glance behind me.

  The smile on Hannah’s face could dwarf the sun.

  “Wow,” she whispers.

  I chuckle, then give her my hand to help her step off.

  “Thank you so much for giving me a ride,” she says. And then her mouth opens, like she’s going to say something else. But she doesn’t. She just closes it and gives me a small, lopsided grin.

  “Look, Hannah, I want to apologize for how I left things at the auction. I…” I sigh. “I was upset with Lucas about… well, it doesn’t matter what. And I’m sorry if I seemed angry or upset.”

  She twists her hands together. “I was a little confused,” she says, her voice sounding small as she looks down at the ground. Something pinches inside of me when I see her like that. “But I also realize life is complicated so… hopefully you and Lucas were able to sort things out.” She ends her statement as if it’s a question, finally looking back at me.

  I nod. “We did, yeah. And now that we have, I hope it’s okay if I tell you I’d like to get your number. So we can hang out sometime.”

  Her face flushes but I can see the beginnings of a smile.

  “I know you’re new in town and are looking to make friends,” I continue, making sure I word myself carefully. “I’d like to be a friend, and I know Ivy would like to spend time with you, too.”

  The spark in her eyes dulls slightly.

  It’s intentional, telling her I want to be friends. As beautiful as she is, standing there in her work uniform and her bike helmet sitting slightly askew on her head… as much as I’d love nothing more than to… I let out a sigh.

  It just can’t happen.

&
nbsp; “Yeah, sure. I can give you my number,” she says.

  I get out my phone and hand it over, giving her a minute to punch in her digits.

  “Thanks,” I say, taking it back when she’s done. “I’ll shoot you a message soon. Maybe we can get together. You, me and Ivy.”

  Hannah nods. “Sounds good. Thanks again for the ride, Wyatt.” And then she turns and heads for the side door that leads to the little courtyard off Lucas’ entryway.

  I watch her go, appreciating her long stride and the sway of her hips, allowing myself – just for a moment – to imagine things were different.

  But they’re not. And I can’t ever let myself forget that. So eventually, I put my helmet back on my head, rev my engine, and ride home.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Hannah

  When I finally get off of my lunch shift on Friday afternoon, I make slow work of riding back to Lucas’ house, enjoying the late afternoon sun as it hangs low in the sky.

  The walking and running path is mostly straight, but curves slightly here and there as it winds in front of the million dollar homes facing the water, stretching for miles into the distance. I perk up, even in the face of my exhaustion, at the idea of lacing up my shoes and giving it a go.

  I’ve been in Hermosa Beach for two weeks and have spent most of my time working, so the idea of finally getting out and going on a run makes my heart sing. Even though I’ve been busy, I know I should make the time to hit the pavement, at least a few times a week. Excuses be damned.

  Joshua always used to tell me that you make time for the things in life that are a priority. Clearly I need to work on bumping running back up the list.

  When I finally wheel into the front patio at Lucas’, though, I know doing anything physical will be too much for me tonight, and I make a promise to myself to run this weekend.

  I dig my keys out of my backpack and head in, hoofing up the first flight of stairs and into the kitchen to grab some water. I’m only home for a few minutes when my cell phone rings. Pulling it out of my back pocket, I do a happy dance when I see it’s Sienna.