by Jill Shalvis
“Don’t,” Sam warned him.
“You going to say it back?” Cole wanted to know.
“We’re not discussing this.”
Cole stared into Sam’s eyes and saw the truth: No, he wasn’t going to say it back. “You’re a fucking idiot,” Cole said, but he wasn’t done. Hell, no. Cole always did have plenty to say, and no one, not man, woman, or God himself, could shut the guy up when he had something on his mind.
“You’re not good with letting people in, I get that,” his oldest friend said. “We all get that, but—”
“You don’t get shit,” Sam said.
Cole ignored this, because he knew, as did Sam, that no one knew Sam better than Cole himself.
No one.
“You go so far with trust and no further,” Cole said, “and I get that, too. You got it from your dad. He let you in and then let you back out again how many fucking times? I can’t imagine it, going through all that, except I can, since I watched you go through it.”
“Drop it, Cole.”
Of course he didn’t. Cole was incapable of dropping a damn thing. “But,” he went on as if he hadn’t been interrupted, “you landed at a damn good home when you needed one, and we never threw you away, not once. So you do know real trust, and that it can be good.” He paused, waiting for his words to sink in. “That woman you just chased out of here, she’s got eyes for only you. And she’s the kind of woman that loves down to her toes, with her entire heart and soul. You’re safe with her, Sam. You get me? You’re as safe with her as she is with you.”
“Shut up or I’ll shut you up.”
“You know, it’s funny,” Cole said casually, unperturbed by the threat. “We all think of you as the guy always willing to risk whatever it takes. And it’s true. Physically.”
“Gee, thanks, Dr. Phil.”
“But the one thing you never risk is your emotions. You hold them close to the vest,” Cole said. “I think it’s because you’re afraid they’ll be taken away. You’re too stubborn to realize otherwise, and now after listening to your conversation with Becca, I think you’re also a little bit stupid as well.”
Sam shoved free without a word, mostly because he was fresh out of words, and maybe a little afraid that Cole was right—about everything.
“You want to be an idiot, be my guest,” Cole said, lifting his hands like he surrendered. “It’s certainly your turn after all these years of keeping our shit together for us. But if that’s your plan, you’ve got to stop reeling her in, man. She deserves more than that from you. Hell, you deserve more from you.”
Before Sam could respond to this, Cole added one more thing. “And if she really quits because of you, I’m going to kick your ass. I might need Tanner to help me, but I will do it.”
Chapter 27
Sam actually agreed with most of what Cole had said. Becca deserved more from him. As for what he deserved, the jury was still out on that one. So he went to work. He opened his shop and stood in the middle of it, wondering when the hell he’d stopped enjoying the solitude of his warehouse, instead looking forward to the moments Becca spent in here with him. But he’d blown that one.
I love you, Sam. . .
The words mocked him. He’d heard those exact same words from his dad throughout his life, and they’d never meant a damn thing. Those three words had never gotten him anywhere, not once. The only thing to do that was hard work. He had a lot to show for hard work, and absolutely jackshit to show for love.
But at the thought, he felt only a sense of unease. Because it wasn’t strictly true. Cole and his family had taken him in every time he’d needed it. They’d fed and housed him. That had been love.
Without the words.
He liked it a whole lot better that way.
He needed to talk to Becca. Make her understand that they didn’t need the damn words. But, typical of the season, the day was crazy, and she was swamped, giving him the stink eye every time he showed up in the hut.
A busy business was great, he told himself. After the way he’d grown up and the long years on the rigs where he’d worked 24/7 in conditions he wouldn’t wish on an enemy, he knew more than anyone just how good he had it. He enjoyed chartering, enjoyed the work—which didn’t really feel like work at all—enjoyed the people, and their bottom line had been more than decent. He’d made sure of it.
But today, he didn’t enjoy shit. By midafternoon, he was over pretending to work and headed back to the hut. He had no real plan. He was hoping one would come to him.
Becca was in denim shorts, a halter top, her little name tag pinned to it, a straw hat on her head, with her hair loose and tumbling around her shoulders. It’d gotten sun-streaked over the past weeks, and her shoulders and toned arms were tanned, as were her mile-long legs. She had a few freckles, too. She hated them, but he didn’t. In fact, he enjoyed connecting the dots.
With his mouth.
As if she could feel his presence, she looked up. She was busy with several clients, but as she gave him yet another Come-closer-and-die look, he realized that beneath her temper, she was hurt as hell.
That was all on him.
“Ouch,” Tanner said, coming up beside him, slipping an arm around his shoulders. “Looks like you’ve been served.”
Sam gave him an elbow to the ribs that Tanner returned.
Normally Sam would’ve been ready for it but he’d caught sight of a guy skulking off to the side of the hut, just out of Becca’s sight. Waiting. And because Sam was concentrating on that, Tanner’s elbow to the ribs nearly sent him sprawling into the water.
Tanner started to laugh, but the smile died on his face at the sight of Sam’s expression. “What?”
“Keep Becca occupied,” he directed, and strode for Jase.
Jase saw him coming and straightened. “Hey, man.” He lifted his hands. “I just want to borrow your employee for a minute, that’s all.”
“She know you’re here?” Sam asked.
“No.”
“Good. Get the fuck off my property.”
Jase’s good-natured smile slipped. “What?”
“You heard me.”
“Hey, wait a minute,” Jase said with a shake of his head. “I need to talk to my sister.”
“Yeah? You ever think about what she needs?”
Jase blinked. “What the hell is this?”
“It’s me telling you one last time to leave,” Sam said. “Now.”
Jase shoved his hands in his pockets. “Listen, I don’t know what she’s told you about me, but we’re cool, her and I, so—”
Sam grabbed him by the collar. “Are you? Cool?”
“Yeah. I mean. . .” Jase closed his eyes and shook his head. “Okay, so we’re not cool, but it’s not what you think.”
“You know what I think?” Sam tightened his grip on Jase to make sure he had his full attention. “I think you let her take care of you all your life, and then when she needed the favor returned one time, you failed her. You let her get hurt. You let her feel guilty for being raped.” Christ, he wanted to squeeze until Jase stopped breathing. And indeed, Jase choked and brought his hands up, but Sam was beyond giving a shit. He heard Cole and Tanner calling his name, felt them trying to pull him off Jase, but he held on.
Until he heard her voice. Becca’s.
“Sam! Sam, let go!”
Shocked, Becca clutched at Sam’s cement biceps. “Please, Sam,” she said, heart in her throat, but as if please had been the magic word, Sam did indeed let go.
Jase slid to the ground, gasping for air. Letting out her own tense breath, Becca dropped to her knees at her brother’s side, running her gaze over him. Realizing he was indeed mostly in one piece, she tilted her head to Sam’s. “What the hell?”
Eyes shuttered now, Sam took a step backward and said nothing.
Becca shook her head and turned back to Jase. “What are you doing here?”
Still holding his throat, Jase slid a cautious look up at Sam.
&n
bsp; Becca couldn’t blame him. Sam had backed up, but he still had a feral look of fury in his eyes. He was breathing steadily, calm even, but his hands were in fists. On either side of him stood Cole and Tanner. Probably to back up Sam, but maybe also to keep him from killing Jase. Hard to tell.
“I was trying to see you,” Jase said, “but then I was assaulted.”
Tanner made a sound from deep in his throat that should have been a warning, but Jase had never been good at warnings.
“I mean, Jesus,” he went on. “I didn’t do shit; he just came after me.”
This time the growl came from Cole. Clearly, neither he nor Tanner had any idea what this was about, but it didn’t matter. Brothers of the heart, they stood united with Sam. “Jase,” she said softly. “This isn’t the time or place. I’m at work. Go home.”
“I. . .can’t.”
She stared into his eyes, saw shame and guilt, and felt her heart clutch. “Why, Jase?” Oh, God. “What have you done?”
“I. . .need your help.” He clutched at her hands and held her gaze in his own red-rimmed one. “This one last time, Becca. Please.”
At his words, the years fell away. She could see him at age five to her seven, needing her to chase away his night terrors after he’d been bullied at school. At age twelve needing her to hide him after he’d stupidly shoplifted a metronome from the music store. Then over a decade later, coming out of rehab and still looking broken. And she felt herself waver. “Jase—”
“Just this one last time,” he promised in a broken whisper.
She pulled her key from her pocket. “Go to my place. I’ll be off in a few hours. Wait there.”
He took the key.
“Jase,” she said. “Promise me.”
“I promise,” he said woodenly.
She rose and watched him do the same. He straightened his shirt, gave her three bosses a very wide berth, and left.
She let out a breath and turned to the small crowd gathered. “Show’s over,” she said briskly. “We’ve got a sale on water equipment for the next hour only, twenty-five percent off. Who wants to snorkel or kayak? Line up, first come, first served.”
A murmur rose from the crowd. Lucky Harbor was filled with good people, but they were also hardworking and loved a bargain.
“Does the snorkel gear come with a hottie instructor?”
This came from Lucille. She had her hand raised, her gaze on Tanner. “Because I wouldn’t mind getting . . . instructed,” she said.
Tanner winced but everyone else laughed, dispelling the tense atmosphere.
Satisfied that things would go back to normal, or as normal as it got around here, Becca started back around to the front of the hut.
“Becca.”
The softly spoken single word was from Sam. She considered ignoring him, but the problem with that was she’d never been able to ignore Sam. Not when he’d been her Sexy Grumpy Surfer, not when he’d become her boss, and certainly not now that he’d become so very much more. She was going to have to do something about that, and she knew it. It was one thing to put herself out there and fall in love with someone. It was another entirely to be the only one of the two of them putting herself out there. “I’ve got work,” she said.
And then she got to it.
Becca sat in the reception room of the “recovery” center in Seattle and watched her brother walk away from her toward the nurse who’d just called his name.
She’d gone home after work and found Jase pacing, looking more than a little crazed, and in desperate need of a fix.
“I fucked up,” he said straight off. “I stole Janet’s Vicodin.”
She blinked. “Who’s Janet?”
“Someone I met after last night’s concert.”
Becca just stared at him. “Are you crazy?”
“Yes, apparently. She could’ve called the cops on me, but she didn’t. Jesus, Becca.” He shoved his fingers into his hair and looked at her wild-eyed. “I stole from her. I sneaked out of her bed and into her purse and I took her pain pills.” He dropped his hands to his sides, leaving his hair standing on end. “I’m a fucking thief now?” he whispered.
“Actually, you’ve been a thief for a while,” she said, desperate to lighten his mood. “Remember when you stole makeup from the department store at the mall? They called Mom and Dad, and you gave them the story that you were thinking of becoming a drag queen. Which,” she went on, “was bullshit. You’d just already spent your allowance on pot, and wanted the makeup for your girlfriend.”
He stared at her, then scrubbed his hands over his face, letting out a half laugh, half groan. “Christ, Becca. I’m trying to be dramatic here and have a moment, and you’re making light of it all.”
She’d opened her laptop then, and they’d looked up rehab centers together. Jase had settled on one in Seattle. And now, there in the Seattle waiting room watching him go, her eyes filled. “I love you, Jase,” she said. “Be safe.”
He was too thin, very pale, and maybe a little bit terrified to boot, but there was one thing Jase had known since birth, and that was how to put on a show. He smiled and blew her a kiss.
She rubbed her aching chest but smiled, keeping up the brave pretense until he’d vanished behind the door of the thirty-day rehab center.
Besides her, Olivia grabbed her hand. “He’ll be okay.”
“He will,” Becca said, because she wanted to believe it.
“No, I mean really,” Olivia said. “He had a really determined look.”
Becca decided to put her faith into that being true. She squeezed Olivia’s hand in return and, for the second time in her life, walked away from Jase.
Halfway back to Lucky Harbor, Olivia said casually, “You going to tell me why you’re over there crying while pretending not to cry?”
Becca sniffed. “It’s smoggy. My eyes are burning.”
Olivia looked out at the clear blue sky and raised an eyebrow at Becca.
“Okay, well, then I have allergies.”
“To what?” Olivia wanted to know.
“Your nosiness.”
Olivia laughed. “That I could almost buy.” She glanced over at Becca. “I’d bet my last dollar that you’re not crying about Jase anymore. That you’ve moved on to crying about something else. Someone else. Sam.”
Becca stared out the window. “Don’t ever bet your last dollar.”
“What did he do?”
“He didn’t do anything.” Which was the problem. “I just thought I knew him, but as it turns out, I didn’t.”
“Yes you do,” Olivia said. “Guys are simple. There’s only three things you need to see a guy deal with to know exactly who he is.”
“Like?”
“One, slow Internet.”
Becca thought back to her first day on the job when she’d first discovered the slow Internet in the hut. Sam hadn’t lost his collective shit as her old boss would have. Nope, he’d simply gotten around the problem by writing things down on napkins, pieces of wood, whatever was handy. Not patiently, exactly, because Sam had a lot of great qualities, and patience wasn’t one of them. But he had a depthless reservoir of steady calm. After the craziness of her family and her life, that never failed to bring her to a steady calm.
Well, until very recently.
“Two,” Olivia said, “untangling Christmas tree lights.”
She remembered the tangled strings of white lights she’d found, the ones Sam had replaced, and smiled despite herself.
“What?” Olivia asked.
“I had a bag of tangled dock lights, and Sam handled the situation.” She shook her head. “By buying new ones.”
Olivia laughed out loud. “Honey, that man’s a keeper.”
Well, she’d tried to keep him. . .“That’s only two out of three things you need to see a guy deal with,” she said. “What’s the third?”