I’m only slightly scared of heights, but I’m determined to use my frustration as my motivation today. No phobia is stopping this chick today. Nope.
When I get close to the top rung, I realize I left the hammer on the ground. Perfect. Just as I’m about to take the first step down, I hear him.
“That ladder is a hundred years’ old. You shouldn’t be doing this by yourself,” he says, making me jump, and lose my balance. In a perfect world, I’d have some witty comeback about how I can do anything I want to, and I don’t need a man to tell me what I can and can’t do. But in the real world, I’m clutching to the side of a deteriorating old ladder, and it’s slowly sliding across the side of an old, deteriorating house. Holy shit. I’m about to die.
“Whoa, whoa!” I hear him say, but the ladder’s still sliding. Yup, I’m a goner. Goodbye sis, goodbye Caleb. Love you both.
I’m clutching on for dear life, my eyes squeezed shut, when the ladder comes to a halt. I open one eye slowly, breathing in short, panicked breaths. Then I see that Jesse is holding the side of the ladder and slowly walking it back up into place.
Meanwhile, I’m dangling off the side like a drunk monkey, still pretty unsure of how I’m going to get down.
“Open your eyes,” he calls up to me. I shake my head, squeezing them shut even tighter. “Lena. Open your eyes. I need you to look down at me.”
I’m totally terrified, but there’s something really calming in the way he says my name.
“You’re okay. Open your eyes and look down at me.”
I take in a deep breath and slowly peel them open.
“Okay, good. Now, just loosen your hands a tiny bit, careful not to let them slide too hard on the wood, and lower yourself just a bit. I can almost reach you.”
“Are you fucking crazy?” I ask him, feeling the sweat forming on my brow.
“I’m not the one dangling twenty feet in the air. Now, lower yourself down, just a little bit,” he says again. I take in another deep breath, and use all my muscle—which isn’t a lot, by the way—to lower my weight down just a tiny bit. Within moments, I feel his large hands reach up and wrap around my thighs. If I wasn’t fucking terrified right now, I’d be...something else.
“Okay, you can let go,” he says. I shake my head. “Lena. Let go.”
I take one more breath, in case it’s my last—I might be a tad dramatic—and unwrap my hands from the ladder. I sink a few inches, and then I feel myself sliding down his long, hard body. He turns me around so that we’re facing each other, but he doesn’t set me down yet. He just lets me slide, inch by inch, my breasts inches from his nose, as my hips brush what feels like a 12-pack of abs. He freezes for a minute so that our noses are inches apart. I’ve never been this close to him before, and I don’t hate it. His eyes are like glass, clear and blue, with this greenish tint around the edge of his irises. His sandy hair is blowing perfectly in the breeze, and his matching stubble is glistening in the sunlight. He’s kind of pretty. Okay, really pretty. Finally, he sets me down on the ground in front of him, and I’m engulfed in his shadow.
“Thanks,” I mutter, steadying myself on the ground. He looks at me for a minute, then—could it be—flashes me an actual smile. It lasts a third of a second, but I saw it.
“You shouldn’t be doing that alone,” he says, and now, I’m mad again.
“Well, we had a deal. I intend to stick to it,” I say, leaning down to grab the hammer. I walk toward one of the shutters—on the first story, this time—and start using the back of the hammer to pry out the rusty nails that are holding them onto the house. He leans up against the siding, crossing his big arms over his chest, that I now know feels a little like a brick wall.
“What?” I ask him, as I catch his gaze, watching me work.
“How’d you learn to do this kind of stuff?” he asks. I chuckle.
“Uh, pull a nail out? YouTube. And common sense,” I say. Now, he chuckles and shakes his head.
“Nah, I saw your list on the table the other day. You’ve got a lot of shit written down. How do you know to do all of that?” he asks again. I shrug.
“No one else fixed anything in our house growing up,” I say, images of the tiny, decaying rowhome on the outskirts of Boston flashing through my mind. With fake green grass overlaying the front porch, cloudy windows, a screen door that always slammed shut. If it wasn’t so hot out, I’d probably feel a chill down my spine. I hated that Godforsaken dump. “So I had to teach myself, if we ever wanted anything done.”
For a second, I think he might ask more, and to tell the truth, I’m not sure that I want him to. There are some things about my past, namely, any memory having to do with my father, that I don’t really want to discuss. He knows enough. Hopefully that’s enough for now. And to my relief, it is. He just nods, running a hand through his dirty blonde waves.
“What about you? You clearly know how to do a thing or two, despite the current state of this place,” I say with a sly smile. He smiles back—twice in one day, I’m feelin’ lucky—and shakes his head.
“My dad taught me everything. Well, actually, both of my parents did. They were never not working on something in this place. Even when it was in the best shape of its life, they were always making improvements. Josie and I were right there with them,” he says, looking up at the house now, some sort of memory floating through his mind. I smile.
“It must have been cool as hell, growing up in a place like this,” I say. His eyes trail back down the house and land on mine again, then they drop to the ground. He swings his hand back to scratch the back of his head, then drops it to his side.
“Yeah, something like that,” he says. “I got a few errands to run today before I head back to Berta’s tonight.”
Ahh, back to Berta’s. Back to the leggy blonde who I’m pretty sure was trying to poison my drink with her mind last night. And Jesus, do the people in this town ever leave the bar?
I nod my head.
“Tell Amber I said hello,” I say. He stops in his tracks, turning slowly back to me.
“I’m not going to see Amber,” he says, not a crack in his voice, not a glimpse of a smile on his face. I swallow. “But I can surely tell Rob you said hello, if you’d like.”
He turns back on his heel and storms off around the side of the house. I wait for a moment until I hear the grumble of his engine and see the cloud of dust forming in the driveway. And then I smile.
Because he knows who brought me home last night. And he’s still thinking about it. I’m not the only one who had to fight off some jealousy last night.
And I kind of like it.
11
Jesse
The second I walk into the Shell, I’m moving like I’m on speed. I’m cleaning glasses, stacking bottles, wiping down tables that don’t need to be wiped down. I’m moving chairs around, taking out trash. I can’t sit still.
It’s that girl.
I watched her this morning, walking around the inn, her hair shimmering in the sunshine. She’s pushy as hell, but I’d be lying if I said she wasn’t also hot as hell. But the thing that really got me was the way she looked at the house. She wants to fix it up. She gives a shit, and though I’m not quite sure why, it makes me wanna let her help. It makes me wanna be around her.
And for some reason I can’t figure out, I really, really don’t want her thinking I’m with Amber. I don’t want her thinking that I’m with anyone.
And that bothers the hell out of me.
I should be seeing whoever I want to, screwing whoever want to.
Lena will be gone soon anyway. And so will I—thank God. I don’t have time for this. I need to focus on getting the inn ready to sell, and then think about where I want to end up. I just need to keep my mind off the girl with the coal-colored hair that’s currently living in my house.
“Where’s your friend at?” Berta says as she walks in. Well, there goes that plan.
“Amber?” I ask. Berta shoots a knowing eyebrow up as
she puts her purse behind the bar.
“Don’t play dumb, boy,” she says. I almost smile, careful not to let her see. Berta knows me almost as well as my own mother did. “I mean Lena. Ya know, the cute brunette you’re shackin’ up with.”
This makes me laugh.
“I’m not ‘shackin’ up’ with anyone. You’re forgetting that her sister and nephew are staying there, too.”
“Well, whatever. Don’t think I didn’t catch you watching every move Rob made on her all last night.”
I feel a tingle as my blood boils a little bit.
“That guy’s a prick,” I say, pulling a few glasses from the crates and stacking them on the bar.
“Tell me somethin’ I haven’t known for the last ten years,” she says. “But I don’t think it mattered if it were Rob or a total stranger. You didn’t want anyone lookin’ at that girl last night.”
I feel my eyes widen as I lean back against the bar. I’m a little embarrassed to be called out on it, and I’m also a little freaked out that Berta might be right.
“Berta, come on. It’s not like that. Lena wants to help me fix the place up, in exchange for letting them stick around for a little while,” I say, going back to push in some of the unruly chairs from last night.
I feel her eyes tracking me as I move about the room.
“Help you fix it up?” she asks. I nod. “Huh.”
“What?”
“Nothin,’” Berta says with a smile.
“Come on now. What?”
“It’s just that your sister has been trying to get you to fix that place up for a year now, but you’ve barely changed a battery much less picked up a hammer,” Berta says with a chuckle.
I smile behind the bar. She’s right again.
“Yeah, well. I figure it’s time. I need to move on. It’s time for me to get that place off my hands and get out of here,” I say, as casually as my voice will let me. When I stand up from kneeling down to straighten up some more bottles, Berta’s standing, arms folded across her chest, rag in hand. “What?”
Her head drops, and she shakes it.
“Nothin,’ Jess,” she says. “I guess I just...I knew this was your plan for a while, but like I said, you haven’t exactly been the most motivated. I was gettin’ kinda used to you being around the bar, helping out, seeing ya all the time. It’s like a little piece of your mama is still hangin’ around this place.”
I drop my head, kicking my shoe on the wide wood planks.
“Berta, I ...”
“No, Jess, I’m not trying to make you feel bad. I just…I guess it just hit me. But the truth is, I’m ecstatic for you. Truly. You need a change. You need to find something that gets you goin,’ rather than something that holds ya down.”
I smile back at her, but I feel a little tug at my heart. If I’m being truthful, there’s a part of me that’s terrified of leaving Baycrest. The only me I know how to be is the one that’s here in this little town. And the only people left in the world that give a shit about me, are right here.
But that can’t be a reason to stay. I need to figure out what the hell I’m doing with the rest of my time here on this planet.
“Tell me something, though, Jess,” she says. I look up at her. “How is it that they can stick around for so long? What are they leavin’ behind up in Boston?”
I look down at my hands, thinking about what Lena told me.
“Something with her sister and the kid’s father. I don’t know much, but all I know is, they don’t want to go back.”
“Don’t want to, or can’t?” Berta asks. I shrug. She nods her head slowly. “Well, Jess, just be careful. Situations like that are never over easily. I don’t want you gettin’ mixed up in anything crazy.”
“Aw, don’t worry about that. I’m keeping my head low. I have my own plans to stick to,” I say, waving a hand in her direction.
But the truth is, I want to know more. The fact that I don’t know all the details sort of bothers me. Not because I don’t trust her, but because I want to know what she’s running from. I want to know if I’m strong enough to battle it. But Berta seems appeased by my answer.
“Huh,” Berta says, perching a hand on the back of her hip as she looks around the bar.
“What?”
“If you and Lena are going to be workin’ around the house, I don’t know how much time you’ll be able to spend here,” she says. My eyebrows raise. I hadn’t thought about that. The night shifts should be fine, but I sometimes help out during the lunch rushes, too. That will be hard to work around.
But then I have an idea.
12
Lena
A few hours later, I’m reading in one of the rocking chairs on the front porch. Although I’ve recently come into a rather large home improvement project—on a home that’s not even mine—I can’t remember a time in my life where I’ve been able to relax this much. I’ve been working since I was twelve—running errands for elderly neighbors, mowing lawns and babysitting until I was sixteen and finally old enough to wait tables. My parents’ bills weren’t going to pay themselves and I had to step up amid their constant mountainous highs and valley lows.
There’s something so peaceful about this place. It’s quiet; the inn is the only property on this side of the peninsula. It’s warm, and though it’s late in the season, it feels like summer will never end. And being here, far away from Boston, tucked away on this shore where Tiger can’t find us...washes me in a calm that I’ve never felt in my entire life.
The only thing that raises my blood pressure is Jesse.
He’s the puzzle I’m desperate as hell to put together—and I don’t even like puzzles.
He’s currently taking a break from housework and brooding to throw a stick for Coby, and, in turn, for Caleb, and there’s something really endearing about it. Caleb doesn’t pick up on Jesse’s rough, biting side. It’s like he knows it’s just a front and refuses to acknowledge it. Instead, he treats Jesse like he treats my sister and me. Like one more adult in his life that he can trust. One more adult in his life that he doesn’t have to fear. And as much as I hate to admit it, that’s just one more attractive quality about Jesse.
Like clockwork, my sister appears just in time to interrupt my hazy staring, flying down the driveway in my car, which desperately needs a wash, by the way. She slams on the brakes and jumps out. I sit up quickly, her urgency preparing me to hear of some sort of catastrophe. But she’s got a smile on her face. I push myself up from the chair and run down the steps.
“What’s going on?” I ask her. She races toward me, wrapping her arms around my waist, and spinning us in a circle.
“I got a job!” she practically screams, spinning us again.
“Hi, Mommy!” Caleb says, running over to greet her. She bends down, scoops him up, then spins him around, too. There’s a lot of spinning going on.
“Where?” I ask.
“The Broken Shell!” she cries. My eyebrows shoot up. Jesse moves toward us. Millie, catching sight of him, puts Caleb down, runs to Jesse, and embraces him too. What the heck is going on here?
“So, she had somethin’ for ya, huh?” he asks her, awkwardly patting her on the back.
“She did. I’m gonna help her with the lunch shifts to start, and maybe pick up a few of the nights, if we can work out a schedule with Caleb,” she says, looking over at me. I nod, giving her a “you know I’d do anything for that kid” kind of look. She smiles back and clasps her hands in front of her. “Ah!” she screams, making Jesse and Caleb jump. “This is so great. I haven’t gotten a paycheck of my own in...I can’t even remember when. It’ll be nice to make my own money. And be able to pay you back for even just a fraction of what you’ve done for us over the years. Mwah!” she says, blowing a kiss in my direction. I can feel Jesse’s eyes on me, but I shy away from his gaze.
“Come on, Caleb. We’re going for ice cream!”
“Yay!” Caleb cries, running to the car.
“You gu
ys want to come?” Millie asks.
“I’m gonna hang back. You two go celebrate. I’m proud of you, Mill,” I say. I can feel Jesse off to the side.
“Yeah, I have a few things I was going to work on today. I have a list now,” he says with a half-smile. Millie smiles and nods, skipping back to the car.
We watch as they drive away, and I turn to him.
“So, you put in a good word?” I ask. He shrugs.
“Berta was my mom’s best friend. She’s getting older, but that bar is the only life left on this shore. She needs the help, and if we’re going to get anything done around here, I need to cut back on my shifts,” he says. I raise an eyebrow. Shifts? Picking up on my confusion, he went on, “You saw me tending there the other night. That’s why I’m there all the time. My mom used to tend bar with Berta some nights when the inn was slower. And now that she’s gone, I took over. But Millie needed a job, and I need some time back. So it worked out,” he says, shrugging again so that his t-shirt pulls against his muscles. I thought he might have just been helping occasionally, pouring drinks for his friends. I didn’t realize he was actually going there to work. Not to hook up with Amber. Well, at least not anymore. I look at him, his hair blowing in the breeze. And then I can’t help but smile.
“Thank you, Jesse,” I say, just above a whisper, refusing to let my eyes leave his. Each time our eyes meet, I feel this crashing sensation, this intense impact that shoots me forward, and then yanks me back. Finally, he breaks the gaze and looks down at his boots.
“So, back to the shutters today?” he asks. I smile again and nod.
“Let’s do it.”
We’re back around the side of the house, working on removing the rusty nails that are barely holding the shutters to the siding. Some of shutters are rusted so badly that they have to be scraped off the side of the house, others are stuck on by paint, and some by dried mud from years and years’ worth of bay storms kicking up wettened dirt. It takes longer for us to remove a single shutter than I’d care to admit. But finally, we’re into a rhythm. He climbs the ladder to take down the second-story ones, telling me that I’ve lost ladder privileges, while I work on the bottom level ones. We don’t talk a whole lot, but there’s something really nice about being out here with him, getting work done, quietly catching glimpses of him in the sunlight.
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