Always Love Me: A Standalone Second Chance Romance

by Derrick, Zoey

  “Always moving forward.” Her face is a little less somber. Her lips twitch like she is fighting a smile

  “Always,” I grin. “Go get some food.” I kiss her nose.

  She hugs me tightly then releases me in favor of food.

  I climb back into my chair. Checking everything, all seems good. We’re chugging along slowly but surely. Though, the waves have calmed some. I look around and see several boats along our flanks, a few going faster than we are, which is fine. I push the throttle up a couple notches and hear the engine pick up. She’s purring perfectly, cutting her way through the waves and toward our destination.

  Rebel

  I moan around a piece of pork loin. Aunt Kathleen’s cooking is amazing, and I realize just how much I missed it. Sure, New York and food go hand in hand. Amazing cuisine to be found on almost every block, but it doesn’t hold a candle to a home-cooked meal. Especially one cooked by someone with amazing skills. Skills I do not possess.

  Kara is an amazing cook, and I enjoy her meals, but it’s not the same.

  Xavier’s attempts at pulling me back into a fishermen’s life are picking at the outside of my resolve, trying to unravel me a bit.

  I’m happy in New York.

  I love what I do.

  I love my friends, Ryleigh mostly, and I don’t know if I could handle the solitude of being a fisherman’s girlfriend. Sitting around, waiting for him to return. That fear of him never coming home. It killed my mother, literally. I don’t know if I can do that.

  But it’s quite possible I can indulge for just a couple weeks. Bury myself in the idea, and then go back to my life.

  I can do that, right?

  Yeah, right.

  “We’re almost there,” Dirk tells me. “About 20 more minutes. You wanna run down and tell them?” I hear the engines die a little and see him pull back on the throttle some. The water has calmed a lot and it’s still choppy, but the big waves are gone. By Bering Sea standards, it’s calm. I can’t help taking it as a sign that our fathers are looking out for us.

  “Sure,” I smile at him.

  “Thanks, sweetheart.”

  My insides warm. Spending this time with him has been…I don’t even know, amazing, exciting, erotic.

  He’s a very good teaser.

  I step into the galley. Food’s been put away, people standing around talking. “Twenty minutes or so,” I tell them.

  “Thanks, honey,” Randy says. “How’s the water?”

  “Calmer.”

  “Okay, good.” Randy smiles. “We’ll work on getting ready in here. Might want to layer up.” He nods at me.

  “I will.”

  “Rebel,” Xavier calls from above.

  “Coming,” I holler back.

  “Let me know what I can do,” I tell Randy.

  “Nothing, just make sure you’re warm.”

  “Will do,” I smile and turn back up the stairs.

  “Come here,” Xavier says as I reach the top step.

  “What?”

  “Just come here,” he tells me.

  I smile and move around the cabinet. Without a second thought, he turns his chair, spreading his legs for me. I quirk an eyebrow at him, as the last time we did this, I ended up underneath him in his quarters. “We don’t have time.” He glares at me. I giggle.

  “Pervert,” he chuckles. “Come on. I want to show you something.”

  I climb up and settle between his legs as he turns us back toward the front of the wheelhouse and the boat. “Look, on the horizon.” He points dead ahead of us.

  I squint against the brightening sky. It’s been overcast the whole way out, but now the sun is breaking through, reflecting beautifully off the water. “What am I looking for?” I ask.

  He chuckles and hands me his binoculars. I jokingly check the eye sockets for paint. He cracks up laughing. “Would I ever do that to you?” he asks through his laughter.

  “You already have.” I laugh, remembering when I was like eight or nine. Dirk and Dribbler were messing around with binoculars and neither one of them would let me look. We were on a dock in Puget Sound. Eventually, they relented, and I ended up looking like a raccoon.

  He laughs harder. “Oh my god, I forgot about that.”

  I playfully pout at him. “I didn’t. I was traumatized,” I snort.

  “No paint this time, Rebel-girl.”

  My heart flutters at his childhood nickname for me. I raise the binoculars to my eyes and follow his finger. Out on the horizon, just barely visible, is the original Bearded Bean. It’s like there’s a spotlight on it and there are gulls flying around it. “Wow,” I breathe.

  The closer we get, the calmer the water gets. I notice the American flag on the bow settling some. The sky gets brighter, the sun reflecting on the water. Dirk puts on a pair of sunglasses, and I climb down to get my own and get my sweatshirt from his room. When I return, I climb back on his lap. He wraps his arm around me, holding me to him. I lean into him, feeling his warmth surrounding me the closer we get.

  Chapter 15

  Rebel

  Dribbler and Dirk’s other guy work some magic with the anchor on the bow of Bearded Bean II. When it releases, I can hear it even in the wheelhouse as it makes its way to the bottom.

  Bearded Bean is directly in front of us; we’re lined up with the center of its starboard side. It looks like a shell of a boat. There’s no boon, no radar, antennas, nothing on it. From here, the deck looks weathered and old. There’s some rust on the sides and at least four anchors holding her in place.

  “You ready for this?” Xavier asks me.

  “No,” I say softly.

  “We can wait a bit to go down.”

  I shake my head. “No, it’s okay,” I tell him. We’ve been watching boats move in around Bearded Bean in a wide circle. We’re about 300 yards from her. We can’t get any closer, and I wonder how it is that I’m supposed to detonate this thing. “If we don’t go now, I might never go,” I add.

  He nods, checking a few things as I put my coat on over my sweatshirt.

  The water is surprisingly calm. It’s not flat, but the caps on the waves are gone, and the boat holds steady against the anchor. The engine runs gently, but I heard Dirk click off the propellers a couple minutes ago.

  He puts on his own jacket, and then he takes my hand, leading me down to the galley and then down to the wet room. Everyone else is already outside, climbing up the ladder that will take them up to the bow and the deck.

  As soon as we’re through the bulkhead door, the wind hits me, shocking me and stealing my breath briefly. It’s definitely cold out here. Dribbler comes down the ladder between people. “I’ll put the radio on the loud hailer,” he says to Dirk.

  “Thanks.”

  “What’s coming over the radio?” I ask him.

  “A dedication and blessing that will be Randy’s cue to detonate.”

  I smile. “I’m detonating it.”

  His answering smile is huge, reaching and crinkling his eyes with happiness. “Good, you should.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Get up here you two,” Randy hollers down to us. Everyone else is already up top.

  I laugh, and Dirk ushers for me to go ahead. “You just want to look at my butt,” I tease him.

  “Always.” He raises an eyebrow at me that I don’t get completely until I turn back toward him once I’m up the ladder and I see him taking it one rung at a time like he did before. Always leading with his left leg. I smile sweetly at him. He doesn’t see it.

  Then the boat pitches a bit, and I’m nearly knocked off my feet. Somehow, he manages to catch and steady me. I laugh again and shake my head. “Thanks.”

  “You’ll get you used to it.”

  Uh huh, that’s provided I decide to ride back to Seattle with you. Though, I don’t say that out loud.

  I move to stand at the point of the bow, just to the left of the anchor, and Dirk slides me over, closer to Randy, and stands behind me. “Never stan
d that close to the anchor chain,” he says in my ear.

  “Why?”

  “In case it snaps.” He points down to the water. “See the bags?” I nod. “Those are there in case it snaps so we can recover the anchor.”

  “Ahh,” I say as if it explains everything, but it really doesn’t. I have no idea about half of this shit. But having him standing behind me, holding me, is everything I need. I’ll soak up whatever information he has to offer.

  “Okay,” Randy says, handing me a small control. “See the green light?” he asks. I nod. “That means we’re connected to the small wireless detonator. If it turns yellow, we’ve lost connection. It will turn red when it’s severed and the charge goes.”

  “Okay,” I say.

  “When it’s time, press the button. It won’t be a big explosion, just enough to blow out chunks of the hull so she’ll sink.”

  “Simple enough. When do I blow it?”

  Just then something comes over the hailer. “On this day, March second, we gather to lay to rest a legacy. An original member of this fleet, and the memories of a great captain and crew.”

  Then the voice changes, and judging by the context of his speech, it’s more of a sermon. It goes on for a few minutes, and my finger gets a little twitchy. “Let us observe a moment of silence in honor of our friends and family who we’ve lost. Not just on this day, but on all days.”

  Xavier’s hands squeeze me a little tighter.

  A tear for him, for me, my father, Jack, everyone we lost, escapes at the same time there’s loud bangs and pops surrounding us. I see fireworks and hear gun shots. “That’s you’re cue,” Xavier whispers.

  I take a deep breath and press the button.

  After a heartbeat, the boat jumps and waves ripple out from it. Another heartbeat, and the noise hits us. The fireworks get more intense from several boats around us.

  The bow of my father’s boat starts to lower into the water, there’s a mass of bubbles coming up around it. The stern starts to lower, then the bow, then the stern, and back and forth. The boat slowly fills with water.

  Dirk’s arms wrap tighter around me as I realize I’m crying. He holds me to him. He doesn’t say a word. Kathleen and I look at each other with matching expressions. Randy has his arms wrapped around her, too. I nod. The tears flowing harder, Dirk’s arms growing tighter.

  We stood there for nearly an hour as she slowly sank to the ocean floor. The more she disappeared, the harder I cried. And the more I realized just how much emotion I’ve buried for 20 years. If it wasn’t for Dirk’s warm, supportive arms around me, I’d have fallen to pieces on the deck. When it finally disappeared, I turned and buried my face in his chest. He didn’t say anything, just held me tightly, rubbing my back.

  “Come on, sweetheart,” Dirk says softly, leading me toward the ladder. He goes down ahead of me. When it’s my turn, he’s there to help me down. When I’m on the deck, he wraps his arm around me and he leads me to the wet room. He releases my shoulders but takes my hand as he leads me in, down the stairs into the galley and then up the wheelhouse steps, but he doesn’t take me to the wheelhouse, but instead, to his room. Opening the door, he ushers me inside. “Make yourself comfortable. I will be back shortly. I need get us headed back.”

  I can’t say anything, I just nod and sit on the side of his bed. I give him a sad smile and he returns it. His lip twitch up, and he goes into a drawer, looking for something I can’t see. Then he turns around, hiding whatever it is. “Do you remember that stuffed bunny you had when we were kids?”

  I nod. “He went everywhere with me. But I lost him, after Erron…”

  His hand comes out from behind him. “No, you left him, at my house, in my bed,” he tells me.

  “You kept him? All these years?” My eyebrows knit together.

  “I always planned on giving him back to you when I saw you.”

  “But I never came back,” I breathe.

  He shakes his head, but doesn’t say anything, he just hands me the bunny. I take it in my hands like it’s glass, and I blink back more tears.

  I feel so shattered, flayed, exposed, and it’s killing me.

  Skylar Rebel McKay doesn’t break down.

  Doesn’t cry.

  She gets angry.

  She fights.

  She gets even.

  Dirk reaches for my face, his hand cupping my cheek and swiping away a tear. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  I nod and turn, kissing his palm.

  He pulls back and steps out the door.

  The tears won’t stop.

  I manage to ditch my coat and sweatshirt before curling up on his bed.

  My old bunny in my arms.

  My thoughts start running wild over today’s events.

  The bitchy, ungrateful snobs.

  Xavier.

  Erron.

  The gravity of today.

  The weight of tomorrow.

  Everything, consuming me.

  I built up all those walls.

  I kept everyone, except Ryleigh, at arm’s length.

  Never sleeping with someone more than twice.

  Rarely ever returning to the same bar I pick someone up at, not wanting to face the reality that I’d left them high and dry while they passed out.

  Knowing the whole time at the gala and after, he knew exactly who I was.

  He knew, and yet he said nothing.

  My cocky, arrogant ways getting the better of me.

  If I’d taken two minutes to really look at him, really see who he was, it’s written all over his face.

  That sweet and cocky kid I grew up with.

  He’s still in there, but now he’s so much more.

  He took the shit world he was given and turned himself into something.

  He achieved many of the same things I have and he’s done it without anyone getting in his way.

  Fallujah.

  The tears flow harder, faster.

  He’s so much stronger than I am.

  So much…he’s everything.

  This is going to hurt, really fucking hurt, and I don’t know if I can handle that.

  Chapter 16

  Dirk

  “She in the wheelhouse?” Randy asks me.

  I shake my head. “I put her in my room. I figured she could use the peace and quiet. Dribbler is going to stay up there for a bit. I was going to check on her.”

  “Maybe Kathleen should…” I shake my head slowly, cutting him off.

  “I think she needs something more than a motherly hug.” Truth be told, so do I.

  “I could…”

  “I got this,” I smile at him.

  He raises an eyebrow at me. “You guys are awfully close for not having seen each other in 20 years,” he observes.

  “I saw her when I was in New York, in January,” I tell him.

  “She didn’t say anything.”

  “She didn’t know it was me.”

  Randy, understanding Rebel like I do, just shakes his head. Rebel can be very self-absorbed sometimes. “Just be careful with her.” He sighs, “I finally feel like I might be getting her back, and I don’t want her running again.”

  “The feeling is mutual,” I say softly.

  He nods, understanding. “Go check on her.”

  “I’m trying to convince her to ride back to Seattle with me.”

  His eyes widen in shock. “What’d she say?”

  “She’s trying to wiggle her way out of it.” I laugh a little, “But I have no intention of letting her off that easy.”

  He laughs, “She can use the vacation.”

  And I could use her in my bed, but of course, I don’t say that to the man who’s raised her since she was 12. “My thoughts exactly.”

  He nods then looks toward my room.

  I nod, understanding him. He goes back to the galley.

  I turn the knob on my door.

  She’s still crying. She doesn’t move when I open the door until I close it then m
ove to sit next to her.

  I put my hand on her back, and she pushes into it, feeling it and taking comfort from it.

  I rub my knee with my free hand. My leg is killing me. I’ve done more walking around on the boat in motion than I normally do, plus climbing, so it’s taking a lot out of me today. “Please, do not take this the wrong way,” I say softly as I stand up.

  I unbutton my jeans and slide them down my legs. I try to cover the fact that I’m semi hard as I kick off my shoes. The boat pitches, and I land on my ass. “Fuck,” I growl.

  “What’s wrong?” she asks. I look at her. Her tears are drying up, the concern in her eyes evident.

  “I’m hurting,” I say as an explanation.

  I kick off my pants.

  “What can I do?” she asks softly.

  I give her a small smile. “Don’t judge me?”

  She narrows her eyes at me, searching the reason for my question. Whatever she finds helps her to understand and she nods. “I’d never do that.” She smiles sweetly. “Is there anything you can do to relieve the pain?”

  I shake my head. “Outside of pain meds, no, not really.”

  I unlatch the top portion of my prosthesis. It’s a custom design that my prosthetist and I came up with. When I explained to him what I would be doing for a living, we came up with a special design to help with the rubbing against my skin. It’s also designed to allow me to climb and balance better on a rocking ship. It’s quite different from the one I wear every day, which is more of a standard prosthesis. I slide it off and place it against the wall, next to my crutch, before I pull the protective sock off.

  “Does massage help?”

  I shake my head. “There’s no tissue down there, it’s just bone and skin,” I say as I start to massage along my thigh and down toward my knee. She climbs off the bed and kneels before me. “Please don’t,” I beg. I close my eyes; afraid she’s going to touch me.