Something in the Way: A Forbidden Love Saga: The Complete Collection

by Hawkins, Jessica

  “Where are we going?” With her legs wrapped around me, she shifted on my crotch to reach behind me. “It’s on the top shelf.”

  I took it down, and a moment later, she feathered her fingers over the back of my bare shoulder. “Summer Triangle,” she whispered.

  I stood still, letting her trace the three stars, even though the tattoo had brought as much angst outside prison as it had comfort inside. Tiffany didn’t understand it, so she didn’t like it. “It’s for you,” I told Lake. “I carry you on my back wherever I go.”

  “You said the same thing about Madison when we were in the truck.”

  “She’s the third point. My girls.”

  Lake shuddered in my arms, hugging my neck. “I’m sorry, Manning. I didn’t know your sister, but I’m so sorry for her.”

  “I know.” I could’ve stood still with her all night, but the noises from the next room were getting louder, as if more people were showing up. “I need you to get down or else your friends are gonna walk in here and catch us in the act.”

  “Oh, okay.” I set her down by her waist. “Where are we going?” she repeated.

  I didn’t answer, just started dressing. She’d figure it out soon enough.

  Roger was apparently someone Lake had met in class, and they ran lines together all the time. He made a big thing about me coming out of Lake’s room, both of us looking and probably smelling like we’d just fucked. I lasted with Lake’s friends about four seconds until excusing myself to the fire escape for a cigarette. I wanted to meet them, but not while I was this agitated over the little bit of time we had left.

  Val followed me outside, climbing out the window. “Can I bum one?”

  Years earlier, I’d told her no, but I didn’t want to be the adult here anymore. We were all equals now. I gave her one.

  She lit it quickly, took two furious drags, and finally let it rip. “You have some nerve. You’re a fucking asshole. I can’t believe you’re doing this.”

  Val had obviously been holding in her feelings about me. Over her shoulder, Lake was watching us. I wasn’t sure if she could see me, but I leaned over and closed the window most of the way so she wouldn’t hear. “This might surprise you,” I told Val, “but I appreciate what you’re doing. I’m glad Lake has had someone here looking out for her.”

  “She’s had two someones. Me and Corbin. We picked her up off the ground after you trampled her, and it’s been four years of getting her to be human again. Now you come in here and fuck it all up with that smug expression on your face. You got her fired from her job?”

  “Not on purpose. She—”

  “Fuck you.”

  I scrubbed my jaw, hoping I didn’t look smug at that moment. “I’m not leaving this time.”

  “Lake probably believes you, too. Well, guess who’s going to be cleaning up your mess when you don’t come back?”

  I smoked down my cigarette, watching her. I was not used to taking this kind of shit. Not at all. If this wasn’t Lake’s best friend, if it wasn’t Val’s way of protecting Lake, I’d have walked away already. Instead I said, “I’m coming back, and you and I will have to be in each other’s lives.”

  “I can’t even believe I’m having this conversation with you. Poor Tiffany. I don’t even like her, but poor fucking Tiffany. You screwed Lake over, now you’re going to do the same to her sister.”

  “Who’s better for Lake than me?” I asked, my voice louder than I meant it. “Who’s going to take better care of her? Love her more than I do?” I flicked ash over the railing, my face hot. “You don’t know the half of it. Lake’s all that means anything to me. I can tell you without a doubt in my mind that nobody will love, protect, or care for her like I can. I’m the man for her. The only man.”

  The night went quiet as we stared at each other. I’d never said anything like that in my life, and it hit me for the first time that it was true. Always in the back of my mind was the fact that I didn’t deserve Lake. But nobody was worthy of her virginity, of her love, so why the fuck not me? I would appreciate it more than anyone else.

  “When are you leaving?” she asked.

  “I have to go, but I’ll be back.”

  “When?”

  Now, she was the one who wore the smug expression. She had me, or she thought she did, but she didn’t know that nothing could keep me away very long. “I fly back tomorrow.”

  “When will you be back in New York?”

  “I’m not sure yet. I—”

  “Yeah, thought so. My money’s on never.” Val stubbed out her half-smoked cigarette, gave me the finger, and stumbled back into the living room.

  Lake came over quickly, peering out at me, lit from behind like an angel. “What was that?” she asked.

  “Nothing, Birdy.”

  “What happened? Val looks upset.”

  I squatted down to Lake’s level and took her chin between my thumb and knuckle. “All you need to know is that I’m not going anywhere,” I said. “Except to my hotel. Get your bag. We’re leaving.”

  15

  Lake

  The mid-December night was alive with holiday cheer. Manning had wanted to take a cab to the hotel, but I’d insisted we walk. I loved to see the bell-ringing Santa Clauses, steam billowing from manholes—and hot chocolate cups—and the lit Christmas trees and menorahs in people’s windows. Or maybe I just needed time to come to terms with where we were going. Having Manning in my apartment had felt like a dream, but going to a hotel with him evoked the same uneasiness I’d gotten when he’d offered to help me with my rent, as if I was his mistress.

  Manning kept his eyes forward. With our elbows linked, the tension in his body was evident. New York wasn’t like Orange County. We passed loud-mouthed street performers, tripped on uneven pavement, and avoided brushing against beady-eyed men. There was something to see everywhere we looked, and though I found it exciting, I wasn’t sure Manning did. To him, more things could go wrong here.

  Whatever Val had said to him, he’d been brooding ever since. He’d fussed with my scarf and coat outside the apartment before insisting he walk closest to the curb. Admittedly, it hadn’t been the best time for Val and Roger to burst in. I thought back to Manning’s confession about his dad and squeezed closer to him.

  “Cold?” he asked.

  “A little.”

  “We’re almost there.”

  Had I known Manning was trying to reconcile his own desires for me against his father’s for Maddy, would I have done anything differently? I couldn’t be sure, because I didn’t see things the way he did. What Manning’s father had done to a nine-year-old girl had nothing to do with love or attraction. Manning and I had never so much as kissed. Just because he’d felt something for me when I was under eighteen didn’t mean he was a sexual predator or some kind of innate monster. I saw it clear as day, but Manning had always struggled to see himself as I did.

  When I glanced up, I caught Manning half-turned, doing a double take at a church with massive wooden doors decorated with wreathes and bows. “What is it?” I asked. He looked forward again, silent. He’d never struck me as the religious type, so I couldn’t fathom what had crossed his mind. “What are you thinking about?”

  He took a few moments to respond. “Marriage.”

  With one night left, that was the last thing I wanted to talk about. His marriage had nothing to do with me. Everybody involved had known going in what Manning and I had, but they’d chosen to pursue the relationship anyway. Manning had made his own decisions, and so had Tiffany.

  We were quiet so long, we passed another church. This one had tiny white lights strung along its staircase railings and an enormous stained glass Jesus that looked upon us.

  Manning’s cell rang, and he took it out of his pocket before silencing it. He hadn’t looked at me in blocks. “Who was that?” I asked.

  We turned a corner and sidestepped a man shoveling the sidewalk outside a bodega.

  Manning stopped. “I need a cigarett
e before we get to the hotel,” he said. “And then I think we should talk about the logistics of what comes next. I know it’s unpleasant, but it is what it is.”

  The clerk placed his shovel against a wall and followed Manning inside. I turned my back on them, on the harsh light streaming from the store onto the sidewalk. I didn’t see what there was to talk about. I’d thought the plan was for him to come back as soon as possible. I didn’t need to hear the horrible details of how it would happen. We were about to do an awful thing, and if we could stop ourselves, we would, so what was the point in beating the topic to death?

  A woman passed me, the toddler attached to her hand pulling the opposite direction, trying to get to the fresh pile of snow the shop clerk had created. The boy managed to wiggle free and jump into the heap with both boots. She picked him up, playfully rolling her eyes at me as she hauled him off. I smiled at them. I hadn’t seen snow fall until I’d moved to New York, but in the four and a half years I’d been here, I’d never just played in the snow like that. I’d been forced to grow up fast, to fend for myself. Since Manning had arrived, I’d finally started to feel light again. I wasn’t ready to let go of that. Of him.

  I felt Manning’s eyes on me, a sixth sense I’d developed from being unable to communicate with him any other way when I was younger. I looked back at him leaning between the shovel and a display of poinsettias and miniature Christmas trees. He stuffed a pack of Marlboros in his pocket, watching me as he cupped a hand around his mouth and lit a cigarette. “If this was easy,” he said, “we would’ve done it long ago.”

  “If what was easy?”

  “You and me.”

  “Can’t we talk about it tomorrow before you leave?” I asked, sighing. I wanted to go back to that day at the ice skating rink when we’d done nothing but wander, kiss and touch, eat and make love. “Watch this.” I turned to face him completely. With a sly smile, I walked backward a few steps and planed my arms. “Ready?”

  “What for?”

  I leaned back on my heels until my balance wavered, then fell into the snow with a crunch. Winging my arms and legs like jumping jacks, I grinned. “Look,” I said. “I’m making a snow angel.”

  “I see.”

  I froze right through my cheap coat, the ends of my hair wetted, but I got up on my elbows and smiled at him. “Come make one with me.”

  “I like watching you do it,” he said, pinching the butt of the cigarette, amusement in his eyes.

  “If you won’t make one, I’ll have to think of another way to get you over here.” I balled up some snow, packing it tightly while he raised his eyebrows at me—a warning I intended to ignore. When he didn’t make a move, I threw the snowball at him, narrowly missing his shoulder.

  He didn’t even flinch. “Have to work on your aim,” he said, winking.

  “Fine. You win.” I stood, bending at the waist, brushing snow off my pants. I pretended to fix my socks while stealthily forming more ammunition. Peeking to make sure he wasn’t looking, I straightened up, much better poised to hit him. I launched the snowball and it smacked against his chest so hard, his cigarette fell from his mouth onto the sidewalk.

  I stifled a laugh at the way his nostrils flared. We stared at each other a few tense seconds before we both broke into a run. Halfway down the block, he caught me by the waist and lifted me into the air. Even as I gave in to a fit of laughter, I struggled against him, making it as hard as I could for him to carry me.

  Right before the entrance to the W, he tossed me into another pile of snow and fell down beside me. “Just to be clear, this doesn’t mean you win,” he said, spreading out on his back like he had that night at the pool in Big Bear. I scooted over to make space for his impressive wingspan. Manning made what had to be the largest snow angel in history, then held his hand palm up for me. I took it, letting him pull me over to him.

  I rolled onto my stomach, resting my chin on his broad chest. Before Serious Manning could ruin the moment, I asked, “What’s your favorite color?”

  “That’s easy. Blue.”

  “I should’ve guessed,” I said. “All boys like blue.”

  “Not the shade I’m thinking of. It’s more of a baby blue, or turquoise water—”

  “The ocean. Why?” I asked. “Is that your favorite place in the world?”

  “Nah.”

  “Where would you be if you could be anywhere?”

  “Where would you be?”

  My instinct was to say the beach—it was my home, or it had been once. Was I even that girl anymore, though? Wasn’t it normal for tastes to change over the years? “Here, I guess.”

  “Don’t sound so sure,” he teased, reaching up to brush sleet from my hair. “It’s okay if it isn’t New York, Lake.”

  “Why wouldn’t it be? My friends are here. I’m building a career. I even have a hairdresser I like.” I pursed my lips. “I’ve made a life here.”

  “But it’s not like you left Southern California because you didn’t like it there. If New York felt like the only option . . .”

  I wanted to argue just to prove him wrong, but the truth was, I sometimes felt out of place in the city. I’d grown up playing barefoot in sand and salt water, with the sun turning my gold hair white. Not that I didn’t love it here, but I sometimes wondered if the city would ever feel like my true home. “What about the mountains?” I asked. “I’ve never seen you as happy as you were in Big Bear. Is that where you want to be, somewhere with nature?”

  “I want to be where you are,” he said. “New York can be your dream home, but mine is you.”

  I shivered beneath a coat of goosebumps. Manning rubbed his hands over my back, but it was his words, not the cold, that got under my skin. I sat up, throwing a leg over his lap to straddle him. “I want to live on a mountain,” I said from above him, “just like this. With my great bear.”

  He grabbed me by the waist with a throaty growl. “So, Goldilocks thinks she can tame a wild animal?” he asked, shifting me on his lap so I could feel how untamed he was. “She should be careful what she wishes for.”

  “She wishes to try, even if it takes a lifetime.”

  “Close your eyes,” he said. “Picture a time you were happiest.”

  Maybe it was all the bear talk, but my mind went back in time, right to Young Cubs Camp, sneaking peeks at Manning across the cafeteria, or during counselor hour after the campers had gone to bed, or before breakfast, when we were supposed to have our eyes closed for Reflection. I’d forgotten that the morning Manning had been arrested, he and I had shared a moment right before the cops had shown up. After the night in the truck, our eyes had met during Reflection, electricity buzzing between us as if it were the beginning of something.

  “What is it?” he asked. “What’s making you smile?”

  “Camp,” I said. “I loved being around you all week. And riding the horse. That was fun.”

  “It was.” He ran his hands up my thighs. “Is that your happy place? What about memories that don’t involve me?”

  I traveled back again, this time to playing board games at night during Christmas break, Tiffany screaming when she won, screaming when she lost, and my dad struggling not to lose his temper and ruin Christmas. One morning when I was seven and Tiffany was ten, we’d woken up and found a Labrador puppy under the tree. We’d named her after Daphne from Scooby-Doo, but she’d gotten sick within six months. Seeing how much Tiffany had loved that dog, Dad had shelled out thousands of dollars in vet bills, but it hadn’t saved her. Tiffany had been devastated. I opened my eyes and started to get up. “I don’t want to play this game anymore.”

  Manning sat up, watching as I brushed snow off my pants. “It’s not a game, Lake.”

  “I don’t know why you’re doing this. What’s the point of forcing me to look at what I’m giving up? Are you hoping I’ll change my mind and tell you not to leave her?”

  “No. I just want you to understand what lies ahead. Once I talk to Tiffany, there’s no turning
back.” He held out his hand to me. “Come here.”

  “No.”

  “Then help me up.”

  I took his hand, but after a short-lived battle of strength, I found myself in the snow again, stubbornly holding in a laugh as he feathered his fingers up my waist. “What’s your middle name?” he asked. “You never told me that day on the wall, and I’ve wanted to know ever since.”

  “You could’ve asked any member of my family over the years,” I pointed out.

  “I wanted you to tell me.”

  “Dolly,” I said, “and I hate it.”

  “Dolly.” He kissed my cheek. “Lake Dolly Kaplan.”

  “Manning Raymond Sutter.”

  He looked surprised. “How do you know that?”

  “I saw it on some of the paperwork for your arrest.”

  “Come on, Lake Dolly Kaplan. My goldilocks, my little bird.” He stood, holding out a hand to pull me up. “Your locks of gold are all wet and your wings, too.”

  16

  Lake

  There wasn’t anything special about Manning’s hotel room—an oversized, stark white bed that hadn’t been slept in for four nights. A luggage stand with his open, organized suitcase next to a closet where he’d hung a garment bag. A desk with a logoed notepad and pen, which sat next to a phone with a flashing red light. “You have messages,” I said.

  “I know.” As if remembering his cell phone, he took it out, wiping it on his pants. “Fucking thing got wet.”

  He set it on the media console, and it lit up with missed calls from Tiffany. I took off my coat. The melting snow on my pants and in my hair suddenly felt less whimsical and more cold and sticky. “You were right,” I said, looking away from the blinking red light. “I don’t like it here.”

  Manning turned me by my shoulders, hugging me to his torso. “I know it’s hard, but I need you to be strong, Lake. We can’t get through this if we aren’t in it a hundred percent.”