Lips Close to Mine (Wherever You Go)

by Bielman, Robin

  “I had a bad dream,” she says, eyes back on me. “But I’d rather not talk about it, okay?” If not for the misery coloring her voice, I’d press for more. Not to be a jerk, but to hold her in my arms and be supportive.

  “You know you could start your own foundation,” I say, relenting with her but not avoiding what’s been on my mind.

  She tips her chin up and focuses on me with surprised interest.

  “You’ve got the money. The smarts. Know some influential people. You could be your own boss and hire a good staff to work for you. People who want to help others as passionately as you do. MASF is about swim safety and teaching kids to swim, and, yes, Brad is passionate about that. But what about the people like you who have suffered because someone they loved drowned? Your foundation could also be about helping those left behind, the victims of loss, so to speak, back on their feet.”

  I’ve just flicked on a lightbulb. I can see it in the flecks of gold in her eyes.

  “You’d still have to tell your story, but you could do it on your terms. You’d be in charge of what and how and when your personal life is shared. And if you get others to share their stories of loss, then the focus wouldn’t be entirely on you.”

  Her chest rises and falls.

  “What was Joe’s last name?”

  “Myles,” she whispers.

  “You could start the JM Foundation.”

  She squeezes her eyes shut for a moment and gives a small shake of her head. “His middle name was Anson.”

  Joe Anson Myles. JAM.

  “It could be called the JAM Foundation,” she says.

  “I think that would be awesome, Ham.” I cup her cheek. “And I think you’ve just figured out how to reconcile your past with your future.”

  She swallows thickly. “I think you might be right.” She climbs out of her chair to straddle me. Her arms take their usual spot around my neck. The tip of her nose touches mine.

  Then she kisses me.

  It’s unlike anything I’ve felt before.

  …

  I’ve known since I was sixteen that I wanted to work behind a camera. Sophomore year, I took a photography class to fill the arts requirement for high school graduation and quickly found myself shooting everything, everywhere. I loved capturing something unique in ordinary things. It didn’t take long to move to video, and shoots with my buddies doing whatever dumbass trick we could think of when our parents weren’t around. Then I saw The Lord of the Rings films some ridiculous amount of times, and that led me to become a huge fan of Australian cinematographer Andrew Lesnie. Eventually, I want to be a Director of Photography and win an Academy Award like he did.

  Which brings me to today and the ocean at my feet. For the past three days, I’ve been shooting with a friend in Malibu to prepare myself for Australia. Cane’s got a guy who’s sick with a drone, so I’m the kitecam guy. This shoot is different from anything I’ve ever done, with a huge learning curve, so I’m trying out different options with the camera.

  I toss my towel to the side for one more practice run before we call it done. Since getting back from Big Bear a week and a half ago, I’ve been insanely busy with work, and Harper and I have spent all of one night together. That changes tonight, when I pick her up for a romantic dinner and sleepover. I want to talk to her about my trip. Tell her two months will fly by. And make her officially my girlfriend so there are no doubts during our separation. I’m taking the next four weeks off from any jobs and hope to spend as much time with her as she’ll let me.

  I also plan to tell her I love her.

  “Bro, you ready to do the handheld?” Flynn asks. He’s been nice enough to kiteboard for me the past few days while I figure out the best way to use the camera. The guy is an epic kiteboarder and surfer, which means I don’t have to worry about him in the slightest.

  “That’s the plan,” I say, looking over my camera. “Give me one more minute.” I’ve tried mounting the camera to my kite, mounting it to a helmet, and mounting it to my kite lines. All three techniques have left me with little to no control over the camera, and thus the footage is jumpy and abrupt, the image quality poorer than I’d like.

  I think the pros outweigh the cons if I hold the camera. Holding it means I have control over the camera angles, can shoot close-ups, and the hand strap will allow me to shoot the board, kite, and Flynn. The downside is I might drop the camera and lose it, or get distracted from kiting while I focus on the camera and its direction instead of my ride. I’m a decent kiteboarder, but I’ve taken my share of spills.

  I do one last check of my camera settings. It’s near impossible to make adjustments out on the water, so I need to have the camera 100 percent dialed before I hit the water. Flynn and I will spend a few more days out here over the next month so I can put in more time with the camera, but ultimately, I’d like this run to go well. With one more look at the lens to check for moisture, I’m good to go.

  Flynn and I check our lines and kite before launching. The winds have picked up, making for gusty conditions, but we can handle it.

  The first twenty minutes are golden. We keep our backs to the wind, the kites right in front of us at twelve o’clock, and fly. My hands keep steady on the handlebar, controlling the direction and power of the kite with relative ease while I film.

  Flynn sets a brisk pace, and I keep up with him. We move our kites in and out of standard positions, dragging our boards through the surf. The pull of the kite lifts me out of the water. I lean back, keeping the board’s edge submerged, and move with Flynn.

  I’m having a blast, as both a cameraman and kite surfer.

  Until I’m not.

  Maybe it’s because the kite and lines have taken some abuse the past three days. Or maybe it’s human error—my error because I’m fatigued from more kiteboarding than I’m used to. I’ll never know for sure. All I know is that one minute I’m soaring with the saltwater splashing my face, and the next I’ve lost control of my kite. And because I’m focused on my camera, I’m unable to trigger my emergency quick release before I’m yanked into the water.

  Then under the water.

  As I struggle for air, I think this can’t be happening. I cannot fucking drown.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Harper

  I can’t keep still. Today is one of the best days ever. For sure the best hump day of my life. I can’t wait to tell Levi about it when he picks me up in half an hour. It’s because of him that I feel invincible again, after all. He planted the seed in my mind, helped me water it, but most of all, he believed in me when I didn’t. When I once again let fear rule me.

  I’m done with that F word. Drop a tarantula in my lap, and fear will dig her claws into me, but everything else gets no say. I’m in control now. It took me a long time to get back here, and now that I am, I want to stay.

  The papers on my desk confirm as much. I’ve spent the past ten days putting my business degree to good use and making the JAM Foundation a reality. A girl always needs good counsel to start, and I’m lucky my oldest brother, Landon, loves to hold his law degree over his little sister’s head. Lan helped me with the 501(c)3 filing and creation of bylaws based on plans I wrote up. With Joe as my inspiration, it took no time to take the vision in my head and develop the foundation’s mission.

  I’m nervous. But it’s the excited kind of nervous. The kind I hope inspires, heals, and educates.

  Filling my advisory board has been more challenging, mostly because I told my dad I only had room for one parent. My mom is thrilled I chose her, and my dad will get over it eventually. What’s made today in particular so great, is one of the biggest influencers in social media has agreed to sit on the board. Her Instagram reach alone is over three million. She has amazing ideas for creating a sustainable fundraising plan, and I can’t wait to introduce her to the rest of the team.

  Have I mentioned my board is made up entirely of women?

  It is.

  Teague shyly agreed to help me. She
doubted her offerings until I reminded her she basically started her own business and works with her boss now, not for. Plus, she’s my BFF and I couldn’t do this without her.

  Brad’s wife (and Levi’s sister), Amelia, is also on the board. Honored when I asked her, she brings personal insight because of Brad, and additional networking opportunities given her part-time work as an educator.

  Brad was disappointed when I told him I was passing on the ambassador job. We talked for a long time, or rather I talked. He listened as I shared some of my most painful feelings. It was important to me that he understood how hard this decision was and how much creating JAMF helped me feel whole again. Strangely, when I finished, he didn’t look at me with pity or displeasure, but pride. He said he’d support my foundation however he could. I told him I would always help MASF.

  Before I left his office, we watched the PSAs. They packed a profound punch that left my heart full. My thoughts had turned to Levi after each one. If not for working together, we might not be where we are today. I owe Brad big time for that.

  I flit around my bedroom some more, picking up a pair of mismatched flip-flops peeking out from under my bed and tossing them into my closet. After our dinner date, Levi is staying the night. Levi is also going to hear the words I love you.

  He hasn’t said those three precious words to me, but I’ve felt them. I’m fairly certain he’s felt them from me, too, and is waiting for me to say them first. It doesn’t matter if he says them, though. I don’t want to wait another day to tell him what’s in my heart.

  Slipping my feet into a pair of red pumps, I smooth down my little black dress. Then I pick up my phone and text Levi a quick, can’t wait to see you! xoxo because I really can’t. He’s spent the past three days at the beach learning his kitecam. My mouth waters picturing him with a deeper tan, windblown hair lightened by the sun, and arm muscles that flex when he moves.

  “Hey, guys,” I say to Teague and Mateo as I walk into the kitchen. They’re sitting on the couch with Teague’s laptop, poring over all the pictures from their trip to Hawaii.

  “Hey,” they both respond, still engrossed in the process they started an hour ago. Teague’s sister, Erin, sent them hundreds of photos to look at from her wedding.

  I put my purse down on the counter and join them. My roommate and her boyfriend are the most beautiful couple I know, so I imagine there isn’t one bad photo. “How’s it going?”

  “Slow. There’s so many good ones,” Teague says modestly.

  See?

  “I like this one best,” Mateo says, pointing to a pic of the two of them on the beach at sunset.

  Teague’s already picked several posed and candid shots with her family that she wants to keep, so now it’s just a matter of a few with Mateo. Teague’s mom is putting together an album for each of her children.

  “Me, too,” she says, grinning at him.

  I glance at the decorative clock on the wall in the kitchen. Six o’clock. Levi should be here any minute.

  The three of us talk and look at more pictures. At six-thirty, I start to worry, which is very unlike me. I’m not a worrier. But Levi is usually early, not late. I grab my phone. No texts or voicemails. It’s rare for him not to respond to my messages.

  I bet he lost his phone at the beach. Or dropped it in the ocean. Something silly like that. And there’s probably a lot of after work traffic.

  Teague says something to me, but I don’t hear her. Suddenly, I’ve got a bad feeling in the middle of my chest. With every tick of the second hand on the wall clock, my concern grows. What if it isn’t his phone?

  I’m so startled when my cell rings that it almost slips through my fingers. Thank God. Only the name on the screen isn’t Levi. It’s Elliot.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey, Harper. I don’t want you to panic, but Levi’s been in an accident.”

  Elliot sounds calm, but it doesn’t matter. I’m hit with a wave of fear. My dress feels too tight. I can’t catch a breath. “What happened?” I manage to ask. I barely recognize my voice.

  “He lost control of his kiteboard.”

  My eyes flash to Teague, and she must see the absolute terror in them because she’s got her arms around me a split second later. Mateo is on my other side.

  The phone shakes in my hand. I can’t talk. Levi almost drowned. Elliot doesn’t have to say it. That’s what happened.

  Teague takes the phone and puts it on speaker. “Hey, Elliot. It’s Teague. I’ve got you on speakerphone. Mateo is here, too. What’s happened?”

  “Levi took a bad spill off his kiteboard. An ambulance brought him to the hospital, but he’s going to be fine. Harper?”

  “Yes?” I squeak out.

  “I just saw him, and he asked me to call you right away. He said to tell you he’s sorry he screwed up your date tonight, but that he’ll make it up to you, no worries.”

  I cover my face with my hands. No worries? No worries! I feel like my skin is being ripped off my bones. If Levi is at the hospital, it means he was injured bad enough for someone to call 9-1-1.

  “How hurt is he?” Mateo asks. I’m grateful for the question I’m too afraid to voice.

  “He hit his head on the board and has a concussion. He actually can’t remember what happened. The doctor said that’s not uncommon, and he might or might not get the memory back.”

  Teague gently pulls my hands down. “He’s okay,” she says for my ears only.

  “I’ve had a concussion,” Mateo says. “It knocked some sense into me.”

  I know Mateo is trying to make light of the situation, but I cringe at his teasing. It could have knocked Levi dead.

  “Oh hey, the hot nurse is walking back into his room, so I’ve got to go. We’re waiting for his discharge instructions, and then I’ll bring him home. Harper, can I tell him he’ll see you there? He’s going to need someone to watch him overnight, and he’s already nominated you.”

  I nod before remembering Elliot can’t see me. “Yes,” I say.

  “Excellent. See you guys soon.” He hangs up before we have a chance to say good-bye.

  Mateo gives my arm a squeeze. “Seriously, Harper. He’s going to be fine.” He stands up from the couch and looks at Teague. Some secret communication takes place between them. “I’m going to go and pick up dinner for all of us. I’ll see you guys back at my house.”

  Teague kisses him good-bye then returns to my side. I’m numb everywhere. I want to vomit. I want to close my eyes and go back to this morning when Levi called to tell me to have a good day. And this time I want to tell him to blow off the beach and meet me earlier.

  “You’re freaking out,” Teague says. Her voice is sweet, quiet, pacifying. “And that’s okay because someone you care about is hurt. But he’s fine. He didn’t…”

  Drown.

  She almost said drown.

  “Accidents happen, Harp. We don’t want them to, but they do.”

  “I know. I’m okay.” I’m not. “Let me change clothes, and then let’s go. I want to have his bed all ready for him when he gets home.” I’m unsteady when I stand, but to my relief, Teague doesn’t notice. I don’t have to hide my emotions from her, yet it’s all I have in me to do.

  In the privacy of my room, I collapse onto my bed and cry. I cry out of grief and fear and heartache. I’m sixteen all over again. It’s not the same thing—Levi is okay. But it is the same thing. It’s the same gut-wrenching feeling of losing the person I love more than anyone else in the world. It’s the same sense of dread, of my body trembling so hard I can’t get it to stop. Levi is leaving for Australia in a few weeks to be in the ocean day in and day out for two months.

  I wrap my arms around myself. I’m shaking. I’m crying. I’m confused and scared and I want it all to stop.

  Teague knocks on the door. “You ready?”

  “Just a minute.” I sit up and wipe the tears from my eyes. After a quick change and face wash, we’re in the car. I’ve collected myself, put up my shi
elds, and while Teague keeps throwing me worried glances and asking if I need to talk, I slide back into the old me. I still know her best. And I’ll need her strength to get through tonight.

  We pull up to Levi’s house at the same time as Mateo. He and Teague set out food on the kitchen table while I pick clothes up off Levi’s bedroom floor, open his window for some fresh air, and make his bed, fluffing his pillows. I’ve found it’s always nicer to climb into a made bed than an unmade one.

  “Hey.”

  I spin around. Levi is leaning in the doorway. He’s wearing board shorts, a T-shirt, and a crooked smile. His complexion is a little pale. His eyes are turned down at the corners a little more than usual. He’s tired and not feeling well and still the most gorgeous human being I have ever seen. I rush to him, wrap my arms tightly around his middle, and goddammit, cry.

  “It’s okay. I’m okay,” he says, stroking my back, burying his nose in my hair. “I’m sorry if I worried you.” His voice is raspy, like it’s been rubbed raw. I don’t want to imagine why that is.

  “Come on, let’s get you in bed.” I wipe away the stupid tears again and help him undress. “How are you?”

  “My head aches, and I’m a little nauseous.”

  I pull the covers back. He slides between the sheets and looks up at me. “You have too many clothes on.”

  “You have a concussion.”

  “That means you can’t get naked?”

  “That’s exactly what that means.” And we need to talk. I’m breaking things off with you, and it’s going to be hard enough as is.

  His eyelids droop. “Okay.”

  “Are you hungry?”

  He shakes his head.

  “I’ll be right back,” I say to his sleepy face. I’m not hungry, either, but I find Elliot and ask him about the discharge instructions. He tells me I need to wake Levi every few hours, and if he vomits, we need to call the doctor.

  I close the door when I get back to his room. He’s asleep. I haven’t pulled an all-nighter since college, but I’m sure tonight won’t be a problem. I love the man lying in that bed, so I’ll make sure he’s okay. Then I’ll say good-bye.