“Perfect,” I murmur to myself. Much better than the pajamas and bunny slippers from this morning. If I have to face down the biggest disappointment of my life, I’m going to need some armor.
I hear Turner’s car on my small driveway before I see it. He’s driving the small BMW today, and the top’s down.
I give him a wide smile as I step out of my little house. “Hi!”
He grins. “Hey. Looking good, Marchand.”
“Same to you,” I say. He wears a navy-blue suit and a pink shirt underneath. A pair of Ray-Bans are perched on his nose, the same classic Harris douchebag air he’s had since high school.
He opens the car door for me and I slide into the low vehicle. My heart is beating rapidly already, adrenaline making my thoughts sharp and clear.
Turner backs out of the driveway. “Hey,” he says. “When did you get your fence fixed?”
“Pretty recently.”
“Looks good.”
“Thanks,” I say weakly.
The drive is short and the conversation easy, quickly turning to the upcoming Morris project. We’ve never had a problem talking, Turner and I, at least not about the trivial things.
The Maze Party is held on the great lawns next to the marina, right on the ocean. Marquees are set up and improvised hedges brought in. Great lemon trees flank the entrance, where dazzling golden letters spell Paradise Shores. A jazz band plays in the distance.
Turner hands his car keys to a valet and offers me his arm with a valiant flourish.
“This is going to make waves,” I warn him, keeping my tone playful. “My brothers will be here.”
His answering smile is rebellious. “They might have scared me off when I was a teenager, but I can take the Marchands now.”
I spot my parents immediately, standing close to the beach. My dad looks as serenely cool as always, but my mother is wearing a wide smile. She’s speaking with her hands, the way she does when she’s genuinely excited.
They’re talking to Parker and a tall man with his back to us, dressed impeccably in a gray suit. He says something that makes my mother burst into laughter. Only when he turns do I recognize the profile.
Hayden.
“A drink?” Turner asks, giving one of the waiters a wave.
“Yes, please.”
He takes two flutes of champagne and hands me one. “Remember when our parents made us come to these parties?”
I turn my back on Hayden schmoozing with my parents and give Turner my full attention. “Yes,” I snort. “Dragged us kicking and screaming.”
“And now we’re here voluntarily. I even looked forward to it.” Turner shakes his head, looking momentarily embarrassed. “Everything comes full circle, I suppose.”
I appreciate his sincerity, even if it makes me a bit uncomfortable too.
He offers me his arm again. “Shall we do the rounds? There are potential clients here, you know.”
“Is that why you insisted on going together? To network?”
He smiles back at me. “Of course. Work hard, play hard. Is there any other way?”
In a small community like this, most faces are familiar. Turner and I work our way around, talking to old school friends and grandparents of friends and Turner’s aunt and many, many more. It’s a task to keep all the names and relations sorted out in my head.
Parker finds us quickly. He’s wearing his old merino sailor’s sweater, the collar of a polo shirt peeking out from the neckline. His pants are chinos—not even suit trousers.
He grins at us. “You two have become a proper little team, haven’t you?”
“Bonded in business,” I say, reaching out to touch the hole on his left shoulder. “Couldn’t you put on a suit, Parker?”
“Nope,” he answers without looking at me. “Taking out Catalina this weekend?”
Turner nods. “I’m thinking about it, yes. Want to join? We could go north, make a full day out of it.”
“Let’s.” Parker leans closer, a conspiratorial look on his face. Dread rises in my stomach. I think I know what he’s going to say, and I’m not looking forward to it. “Think you have space for a third crew member?”
“I’ve tried, man, but your sister has staunchly refused to join me on the boat.”
“Nah, not Lily,” Parker says with a grin. “Guess who’s back in town?” He turns around and points—my brother, the paragon of subtlety—straight to Hayden. He’s talking to two women I faintly recognize from high school.
Turner’s gasp is audible. “No fucking way! Cole’s back?”
“Yep.”
He turns to me and apologizes for swearing, as if I was a delicate flower. “No worries,” I say, thinking that I said many worse things when I first heard Hayden was back.
“When?”
“Two days ago. Just rolled up like he never left. Man, he always was a wild card.”
“Remember the time he got us all to spray-paint the—" Turner breaks off with a look at me. “Sorry. We were kids.”
“I know you were,” I say dryly. “I was there.”
Hayden has seen that we’re looking at him. I can see his eyes zero in on Turner’s arm around me, his hand resting lightly on the dip of my back. His jaw is clenched tight.
The blonde woman in front of him is talking and Hayden nods at something she says without sparing her a glance, his eyes focused on us. His gaze flicks to mine. It’s expressionless, but I can see the challenge in it.
You’re here with Turner? his eyes ask.
I meet his gaze head-on. So? I have every right to be.
Parker and Turner break me out of our staring competition. They’re discussing plans for the weekend, focused on the winds.
“Of course he should join,” Turner says. “I have to go and say hi… Lily?”
I shake my head. “You guys go and catch up. I saw some friends from high school that I’m going to talk to.”
Turner’s confusion is short-lived. He nods and presses a small kiss to my cheek. The impulsive gesture makes me blush, knowing who’s watching.
“Catch you later,” he says.
I want to watch—to see how Hayden talks to him—but I turn my back to them. Losing sight of him hurts. His presence at this party feels heavy, and my body seems linked to his, like we’re two planets in orbit.
Instead, I find Marissa and Leighton, two girls I’ve known from childhood. They’re the epitome of Paradise Shores, one engaged and the other just about to become a doctor, both of them beautiful.
It’s not long until the conversation turns to gossip. Who’s dating who, what houses have been sold, did I know that Tyler Bates had just divorced his wife? After twenty-seven years?
Finally, Marissa turns to me. “All right, Lily, you have to give us the details.”
“About what?”
“Turner! You’re here together? What does that mean?”
“We’re friends,” I say. “We work together and enjoy spending time together. Nothing more than that.”
“Come on,” Leighton says. “There’s always more than that.”
“Not this time. Not yet, anyway.”
“Only time will tell, I suppose,” Marissa says with a smile. “But what about Hayden Cole’s return? Did you know he was coming back?”
I shake my head. “No, I had no idea. No one in the family did.”
“I remember him from high school,” Leighton says thoughtfully. “Always so brooding, you know? He’d be at all the parties, right at the cool kids’ table, but there was something so… aloof about him.”
“Yes,” Marissa says. “Understandably so, though. When did your family take him in? When he was ten?”
“Around then, yes,” I say. “But he lived with his uncle. They had their own place.”
Leighton looks thoughtful. “And then leaving for the military… our very own veteran. I’ve never known anyone who was in the Army.”
“The Navy,” I correct.
Marissa shakes her head. “So brav
e, truly. What kind of career path does that result in, though? Must be hard to give the most important years of your life to the military.”
“Yes,” Leighton sighs. “It’s a shame, really.”
My hand tightens on the champagne flute. “Sorry?”
“Lily, it’s very impressive, don’t get me wrong.” Marissa’s eyes are wide. She looks surprised that I’m not in agreement. “But it’s not really an up-and-coming profession, you know. It’s just unfortunate that his prospects were wasted on enlisting. You want the best for him, I’m sure. Don’t you agree?”
“Hayden and others like him help keep us safe, so we can be here and drink expensive champagne and talk about who-divorced-who.” My words are coming out stronger than I intend, but I can’t seem to stop them. It’s the same feeling I used to get when people asked if he was the gardener. “They step up to the plate day in and day out, and occasionally pay the ultimate price for doing so. You can think what you like about the profession, but we owe people like Hayden respect.”
Both Marissa and Leighton look stunned. They’re silent for a moment, digesting my outburst.
“Well,” Leighton finally says. “You’re right about that. Supporting the troops is a very important cause, and I don’t think Marissa meant to imply that it’s not.”
“No, no, of course I didn’t. And the look suits him.”
“Absolutely,” Leighton says with a nod. “All that muscle? I’d love a military man. Do you know if he’s single, Lily?”
“Or how long he’s staying?” Marissa asks with a smile.
I swallow my discomfort and excuse myself as fast as possible. Not for the first time, I miss Jamie. But my best friend is still in New York, angry at me for returning to Paradise Shores.
She would never have expressed herself so… distastefully. According to these women, Hayden is wrong to have enlisted, because that’s clearly below people from this town, but he’s gotten muscular from it so it’s absolutely all right to sexually objectify him. It makes me want to throw up.
The whole thing does. The people here, the expectant look on Turner’s face that I’m not sure I can live up to, Hayden disappearing and reappearing without so much as an apology.
I need some space.
I set my drink down on one of the tables and walk toward the beach. The grass is soft under my wedges, the sun strong as I venture out from the marquees. People are everywhere, polite laughter and the sound of glass against glass. I’ve just turned behind the last pavilion when I’m stopped by a strong hand on my arm.
He drops the hand the second I turn around.
“Lily.”
Along with that elegant gray suit, Hayden wears an inscrutable expression. I can’t tell what he’s thinking or what he’s feeling. He looks entirely at home here—like he fits in, in a way he never used to. If it wasn’t for his unruly hair, I’d think him a different man entirely.
“What do you want?” I hiss, knowing I’m being rude and not finding it in myself to care.
He narrows his eyes. “You’re here with Turner?”
“Yes.” I cross my arms over my chest. We’re behind the pavilion and a hedge is hiding us from view. I don’t like the intimacy. “We work together.”
“You and Turner?”
“Yes.”
“Turner Harris.”
“Yes! Why is that so hard to believe? How many times do you want me to repeat it?”
He runs a hand through his hair. It’s an achingly familiar gesture. “Of all the men I was expecting to find you with, you really surprised me with him.”
For a moment all I can do is stare. “What does that mean? The men you expected to find me with?”
“He’s an idiot.”
“No, he’s not.”
Hayden exhales and the sound is impatient. “Do you remember freshman year? He cut the ropes from the left side of the railings to—”
“He was fourteen!”
“Doesn’t matter. Still an idiot.”
“He was your friend, too.”
Hayden looks away from me, a slight smile on his face. It’s not a happy expression. “No, he really wasn’t.”
“Why are you here?”
“Why wouldn’t I be? The Maze Party is open to anyone with an invitation. Your mother was kind enough to extend—”
“Not at the party, Hayden. Here in Paradise Shores.”
Hayden looks down at me. The mask is back up over his features, the one I remember from the first time I saw him. I used to think it was to protect his thoughts—his emotions. Now I don’t know anymore.
“I grew up here,” he says. “I wanted to return, see if the place had changed.”
I narrow my eyes at him. He might be a different man entirely, but I still know when he’s lying. “For ten years, you’ve been gone, and now it’s convenient to check in?”
He ignores me. “How’s your gate?”
“In perfect condition.”
“Feel free to thank me whenever,” he says, flashing a smile. “I know you were raised to be polite, Lils.”
“In your dreams, Cole.”
“Oh, if you only knew what I dream of where you’re concerned.”
Hot tears pierce my eyes and I blink them away angrily. I’m furious, I’m not sad, and I’ll be damned if he thinks I am. “No,” I tell him. My voice is unrecognizable. “Who are you? I don’t recognize the boy I knew in this slickly suited up, snarky person. Who do you think you are, to make innuendos at me? You left, Hayden.”
His face falls, and for a moment, I see the person I remember. Someone I used to consider my best friend, who I thought knew everything about me. His eyes blaze and this time it’s with sincerity. Hayden reaches out and wraps his hand around my wrist. His fingers scorch me with their heat.
“Don’t leave with him,” he tells me. “Take a walk with me. Stay here with me, Lily.”
“Why?”
“Because you don’t care about him.”
“That’s not a good enough reason.”
His voice turned dark, almost hoarse. "Because I've missed you."
No. No no no. Hayden Cole doesn’t get to do this. To show up and transfix me again. My teenage heart had broken so hard because of him, and it’s only now starting to mend. There’s no chance I’m falling back into this pit.
“You have no right,” I whisper, closing my eyes. “You have no right to an opinion. Not about who I date, or their presumed intelligence, none of it. You walked out of my life, Hayden Cole, and only I can decide if I want you back in it or not.”
His amber eyes, the ones I used to dream about, look back at me. There’s pain in them. “Lily…”
“Bye, Hayden.”
I leave him behind the hedge without another word, dabbing at the tears in my eyes and plastering a smile on my face.
9
Hayden
Hayden, 18
Mrs. Abrams raps her fingers across her desk. “You know why we’re here, don’t you, Hayden?”
I glance at the clock on the wall. Fifteen minutes of this, that’s all I need to live through.
“Yes.”
“College counseling is mandatory for seniors, and yet you didn’t sign up to the program. We had to call you in. Why is that?” Mrs. Abrams leans forward, a deceptively pleasant smile on her features.
Because I already know where I’m going, and it’s not to an ivy-and-brick institution.
“I don’t plan on going to college. At least not right away.”
She glances down at the papers on her desk. I recognize them: my transcripts. “You could be a B-student if you tried, Hayden. You have a few Cs, but nothing major. You could go to college. Maybe not Ivy League, but you could certainly get into some of the better public schools in the country.”
Is she going to make me spell it out? I shove my hands into my pockets.
“I don’t have the money for that.”
“There are good community colleges around here. And there are scholarships
. Although…” Her smile is apologetic. “Unfortunately, with your grades, we probably couldn’t make an academic scholarship work. And your extracurriculars are…”
“Nonexistent.”
“Well, yes. But there are plenty of colleges that give out grants for students from less-than-ideal backgrounds.”
“Grants, but not full rides. I know how the situation is.”
She flushes and fiddles with the papers. I wonder if she’s ever met a student she can’t help. The Paradise Shores kids here, even the ones with terrible grades and an addiction to coke, have prospects. Trust funds, legacy status… the right sports interests.
I take pity on her. “I’m going to enlist.”
“Really? Hayden, are you certain?”
I’m not. Not at all, actually. But it sounds like the best option for me, and on the best of days, the idea of leaving this place behind and becoming someone new is more than a little tempting. I’ve always enjoyed the gym. Boot camp doesn’t sound that bad.
“Why not?” I shrug. “They pay for your college after, too. Or so I’ve heard.”
Mrs. Abrams looks at me for a very long while. It makes me uncomfortable, this level of scrutiny, before she finally sighs. It sounds resigned.
“I can’t argue with your logic, Hayden. Serving your country is a noble thing. I don’t think many of your peers would give it a second thought.”
I lean back in the chair, uncomfortable with the praise. “Yeah.”
“There’s some information I can give you, of course. You’ll have to give me a few days to look into the military colleges. I want to make sure that you get the best possible outcome from this if you do decide to go down this route.”
“Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it.” She gathers up my papers and slips them back into the file with my name on it. Case closed. I wonder what it says in Parker’s file, and what advice he got. “I’ll be in touch.”
“All right.”
“Take care, Hayden.”
I grab my backpack and move to leave when a thought strikes me. “Is this kind of thing confidential?”
She gives me a nod, and I’m not sure if I’m imagining things or if she looks a bit sad. “Yes. Yes, it is.”
Rogue: A Paradise Shores Novel Page 5