Love Lost & Found (Surfside Romance Book 2)

by L. A. Justice

  Alexa booked the ticket in the early morning hours, after another tearful long-distance call from Teena, who reported that the surgeon had removed part of Rick’s skull to allow the brain swelling to subside. They’d replace it later. Assuming things went as hoped.

  “He would’ve been better off on a motorcycle,” said Teena. “At least he would’ve been wearing a helmet.” A few seconds passed before she was pleading with Alexa again. “You’ll never forgive yourself if you don’t come.”

  As she boarded her early morning flight that Friday, she had the empty feeling she was all alone—Alexa against the world. It felt as though everyone was pissed off: Hannah for being grounded about the party that ended with the stolen car. Lana was angry she was missing yet another day of work when everyone was on tight deadlines. Luke was ghosting her again, which was no surprise. But she wondered why he felt threatened by a man who could die at any minute. Was he missing the compassion gene?

  She was buckled in, listening to the jet engines whine as they taxied forward and surged up into the air, circling around and heading west. Less than a week ago, she was whirling in Luke’s arms in the grand ballroom feeling like a princess in shimmery chiffon. Now she was flying into a life-and-death situation with a man she hadn’t seen in decades until recently. There seemed to be some universal conspiracy to subvert her peace of mind. Was there such a thing as peace of mind? And while nobody promised her a rose garden, was one week without drama too much to ask?

  The tears of the angels covered the tarmac at Portland National Airport. It felt strange being here twice in the space of a few months. Teena Riley waited at the end of the concourse and as they walked to the parking garage, she keyed up a video on her phone. It showed a fireball erupting in the night sky.

  “That was taken by a passing motorist who called 911. Probably saved Rick’s life.”

  “So what happened?”

  Teena hesitated before answering. “Well, apparently he wasn’t completely sober. He was speeding and the road was dark. He took the curve too fast and lost control, smashing into a concrete barrier. He’d just filled up, so the fire was intense. Luckily, he wasn’t wearing a seat belt or he would’ve been burned to a crisp. But when he was ejected from the cab, he crashed head first into a tree. Ironic, isn’t it? Lumberjacks usually take down trees, not the other way around.”

  Alexa was horrified. “He’s lucky to be alive.”

  “They brought him out of the coma this morning just to see you. The neurosurgeon thought it might speed the healing process.”

  She shifted in her seat. Teena wore all black, as though already in mourning. Alexa had worn the same outfit she had on the day she went hiking with Rick. The jeans now fit her perfectly, in fact, they hung a little loose. Between the flu, Gretel, the stolen car, the stress with Luke and work, and now Rick’s freak accident, food had slipped low on her list of priorities.

  “You know I’m dating someone. It’s pretty serious.”

  Teena patted her hand. “No worries. Long-distance romances are crap. Listen, just be prepared. Rick’s a holy mess.”

  At Providence Portland Medical Center, they received visitors’ badges. Alexa said, “Let me pick up some flowers.”

  “No flowers or plants in the ICU.”

  Her legs turned to rubber. “I don’t know if I can do this.”

  Teena gently tugged her along. “We’ll keep it short today and come back tomorrow. You’ll need a chance to process it.”

  Before stepping into the room they put on paper gowns.

  Even steeling herself for the worst, she was ill-prepared for the extent of Rick’s bodily destruction. Inadvertently she winced. He was immobile, head swathed in white gauze, eyes bruised purplish green, nose broken, and cheek scraped raw, the beard was gone. One arm was casted from knuckles to elbow. His right leg was elevated in a sling and the shin bore an angry red scar that ran under a metal rod screwed into the tibia. An IV dripped pain killers into his arm while a monitor kept track of his vitals, beeping softly in the semi-darkness.

  “You have a visitor,” Teena said softly. She picked up a blue plastic cup, angling the bendable straw between his swollen lips. It looked as though a blowtorch had singed off his brows. “Here, drink this.” Rick’s bloodshot eyes embraced her with a warm gaze. He grinned as her heart melted.

  “The doctor advised him not to speak,” said Teena. “He inhaled a lot of smoke.”

  Alexa reached out and touched his hand. “I’m here for you Rick. I flew all the way from Florida to make sure you’re okay.” He moaned like a wounded animal. “Hannah sends her love. She says this sucks.”

  From the corner of her eye, she noticed the colorful, oversized get-well card they’d sent earlier in the week. He squeezed her fingers.

  A burly middle-aged nurse with close-cropped dark hair and maroon scrubs walked to the patient’s bedside. “I need to change some bandages,” she said, adjusting the IV drip. “Come back in an hour.” Alexa touched his hand again as the monitor’s beep increased. The nurse shot her a look.

  In the corridor Teena pushed the elevator button. “We’ll go see my folks down in the cafeteria.”

  Their second visit later that same afternoon was also mercifully brief. Seeing Rick so incapacitated was gut-wrenching and incomprehensible. He’d always been so sturdy. So indestructible. They ate at a local diner, but five minutes after leaving, she couldn’t recall what she’d eaten. They polished off a bottle of Cabernet in Teena’s cozy apartment and she crashed on the couch. A Maine Coon named Minx settled on her stomach, purring loudly, kneading the blanket over her chest with its paws. It was fine; sleep was out of the question as a kaleidoscope of images of the rugged lumberjack slid through her brain. How did he end up a helpless lump swathed in bandages? Tears leaked down the sides of her face as she recalled their long and complex history. His magnetic energy, as diminished as it had been from the accident, still lit her up from the inside. It always had, maybe it always would.

  Her life felt as fragile as a porcelain teacup. With one more piece of bad news, it could shatter into a million tiny fragments.

  Before leaving the apartment for breakfast on Saturday, Alexa took a hard look at herself in the bathroom mirror. A sallow complexion had replaced her golden glow. A crease had developed seemingly overnight between her eyebrows, which she now realized needed tweezing big time. The creases on either side of her nose looked like grooves carved in marble.

  “Worry less. Enjoy life more.” She smiled. It looked phony. At one time she thought she’d age gracefully, with character and dignity. Now she began calculating how much fillers would cost and how she’d pay for them. Alexa didn’t want to think of herself as being vain, but perhaps she was—at least a bit more than she wanted to admit.

  When she was as old as Zelda who’d love her? Rick? Luke? Anybody?

  Right now she wasn’t sure about anything, except that Luke Prescott was not exactly the man she once believed he was. A huge chasm had opened between them and Rick Harlow was in the epicenter. She texted Hannah, giving her an update. Teena knocked on the door and peeked in. “As bad as he looks, there’s been steady improvement over this past week.”

  “What about brain damage?”

  She shrugged. “Nobody knows for sure.”

  They headed to the Mad Maxx Diner where Alexa sipped hot coffee and picked at her waffle thinking about the two men in her life. “Love is wonderful,” she said to Teena. “But I think basically it’s only a fantasy.”

  “I wouldn’t know,” she answered, digging into her egg-white omelet. “I’ve never been in love. Wouldn’t know it from a hole in the wall. My career comes first. Actually, Rick comes first at the moment. But when he’s better I’d like to open my own real estate office.”

  Alexa took a bite. “I guess I’ve just gone along with the flow. Except for my divorce and moving to Florida with Hannah, I guess I haven’t had any real goals. Now I want to write a novel.”

  “What’s holding
you back?”

  Alexa shrugged.

  Teena leaned in toward her. “The only thing holding you back is you.”

  “I’ve started at least half a dozen times.”

  “You’ll get it right. If you want it bad enough, you’ll make it happen. That’s what I’m doing. Nobody is going to derail me. And certainly not some cretin who thinks he can control or belittle me. So many of my girlfriends are in awful relationships it makes me want to retch.”

  “I just wish there was more I could do for your brother.”

  “Coming out here was more than enough. He seems happier already. I know it’s hard to get away with work and a teenager and a boyfriend.” Alexa wasn’t sure how a carefree singleton with flexible hours could understand how complicated it had been, but she smiled politely. Even with all the arrangements and unexpected financial repercussions, she was grateful Teena had called with the bad news. Being here was the exact right thing to do, even if she’d been blindsided once again.

  The weekend passed in a blur of visits to the ICU, bottles of wine, and tears. Somehow Rick had been able to scribble a short note asking if she remembered their hike. She leaned down to read it and kissed his damaged cheek. “How could I forget?”

  On the way to the airport on Sunday, she felt a small flutter of relief. Although her past belonged to Rick, she wanted to believe that Luke was her future. She hoped he still cared and that he’d enfold her in a warm embrace when she got home. She needed to feel safe and desired. But if he couldn’t move past this unplanned glitch their future together didn’t look very promising. She didn’t want to dwell on it, not now.

  Teena broke into her thoughts as they pulled up to the airport. “By the way, a Korean family bought your mom’s house. They’ve already put a fountain in the front. What do you hear from Sari? Does she like Sedona?”

  Alexa showed the photo with the static electricity hair. “She’s got some guy who takes her hiking. I don’t even want to know what they do there.”

  They hugged once more.

  “By the way, Rick told me he planned to propose to you that morning on Bald Peak Mountain. He had a ring. Said he’d waited long enough. But you passed out.”

  “So he never asked?”

  She shook her head. Alexa squeezed her hand. “Thanks for sharing.”

  “We could’ve been sisters.”

  Alexa smiled and kissed Teena’s cheek. “I’ll always be your sister, so will Hannah.”

  She walked through the sliding doors and cleared security. In the ladies room she splashed cold water on her face and at a kiosk she bought a bottle of water, a to-go cup of coffee, and bagel with butter and jelly. Instead of heading to the boarding area, she stopped at the first bar she passed, Brew 2 Go. It was early. She’d never been in a bar at this hour, or in a bar at an airport. Period.

  Hoisting herself onto the stool, she tried to erase the snapshots that cascaded through her mind: the leg in traction, rods and screws, the gauze-wrapped head, eggplant-colored bruises, the neurosurgeon with his sandy hair, white knee-length coat, and big-boned nurses in colorful scrubs, sneakers squeaking on the linoleum tiles.

  The look of desperation in Rick’s eyes was haunting, but she was comforted knowing he was a survivor. He’d pull through somehow.

  A figure approached. Alexa looked up expecting to see a tall brunette with braids, like Felicity Hope, the pretty barmaid she’d written about in the raunchy novel she trashed. Instead, a hulk stood facing her across the bar. He was bald with a body like a battering ram. In a deep, coarse voice, he asked, “Get you something?”

  “Baileys. Better make it a double.”

  “Sure thing.” He turned away and returned with a small tumbler of the cream drink. She was the only one at the bar.

  “Where’re you heading?”

  “Back to Florida. I was visiting a friend.”

  “That’s nice.”

  “Not really. He was in the ICU. Terrible car accident.”

  “Same thing happened to a guy I know. Freak thing in the middle of the night.”

  Alexa didn’t subscribe to the theory that everything was related. The brawny bartender could have a friend in a wreck but that didn’t mean it was Rick. She didn’t want to know. Still, she asked. “What’s his name?”

  “You wouldn’t know him if you’re from Florida.”

  She gulped down the Baileys. He walked over with the bottle and added another finger’s worth. “I used to live here.”

  He eyed her suspiciously. “You looked familiar. Beaverton High?”

  She nodded and slid the bagel from the bag. “Okay if I eat this here?”

  “Knock yourself out.” He moved away to serve a businessman in a dark suit and returned a few minutes later. “Rick’s the name of the guy.”

  Her eyes burned. People always surprised her. She slugged down the rest of the drink. “Rick Harlow?”

  “Wait a second. Are you Alexa Conklin?” His face broke into a huge grin. “I’m Buck Furlong.”

  She cocked her head. “Sorry, I don’t remember. I left a long time ago.”

  “My girlfriend Amy was so jealous of you.”

  “Of me, why?”

  “We were sophomores when you and Rick were seniors,” said Buck. “I thought you were hot. Gotta admit I had a secret crush on you. That pissed Amy off. She wanted me to be captain of the football team so we could be like the both of you.”

  “No way. Why would anybody be jealous?”

  “Isn’t it human nature?”

  His words rang true. Alexa had been jealous of Cara for winning the contest and she envied Helen’s apparent wealth, although that turned out to be an elaborate pretense. Wanting and wishing for more wasn’t so awful—it’s what drives us to be better and more productive.

  “I guess it’s part of life,” she said, “but it’s also a bit wacked.”

  “You’re right about that. I got tackled hard in a scrimmage, busted both knee caps and spent part of my senior year in a wheelchair.”

  “That sucks.” He shrugged it off.

  “I survived. So you and Rick are still tight? Are you hooking up long distance?”

  She liked the way the alcohol relaxed her shoulders but she didn’t like his questions. It felt like they were back at Beaverton High and soon the whole town would be gossiping. Alexa wanted to switch gears. “Actually, I’m dating a great guy back in Florida.”

  “Like that suit over there?” She glanced over at the guy with sandy hair and an expensive watch.

  “Something like that. We just spent a wonderful weekend together. I think he’ll get down on one knee pretty soon.”

  “Stay in the moment,” cautioned Buck. “Obsessing about the future only causes anxiety.”

  “A girl can dream, can’t she?”

  “Sure. But being present in the moment is the best place to be. Replaying the past only leads to misery and the future is uncertain. No guarantees.” She nodded in agreement.

  “You’re right. Last year I tried to write a novel, but didn’t finish it. I’m still beating myself up over that.”

  A faraway look passed over Buck’s face. “I want to write a book. That’s always been my dream.”

  “I bet you get an earful here. Call it Secrets a Bartender Couldn’t Keep.”

  He laughed. The suit turned his head at the outburst and signaled for a refill. Two more travelers slid onto stools, demanding Buck’s attention. It was a while before he came back.

  “So you’ll write the book?” she asked.

  “I will, but not anytime soon, not with twin boys and two girls.” He smiled ruefully. “I wanted to teach English and coach the basketball team. But I got derailed.”

  “I don’t know much, Buck. But you’ve got to create the life you want. Rewrite the narrative.”

  “I could say the same for you. If this corporate dude disrespects you, find someone else. You deserve someone who’ll treat you like a princess, Alexa. Always remember, the magic happens when you
don’t give up.”

  “Who made you so smart?”

  “Maya Angelou.” Buck grinned. “I’ve read all her books. She says, ‘If one is lucky, a solitary fantasy can transform one million realities.’ That line just blows me away.”

  “And you ended up here, a bartender at the airport?”

  “I was a lumberjack with Rick for a while. Got injured again. I’m just an overgrown klutz. Staying in this confined space keeps me safe. At least I hope so.”

  “But you make enough to support four kids and a wife?”

  “Amy works. She owns Mojo Doughnuts. That’s a cash cow.”

  Alexa couldn’t hide her surprise. “We ate there. It’s fantastic.”

  “We worked together for a while, but this is better for our sex life, if you know what I mean.” Buck moved away to serve two new customers and returned a few minutes later. “Soon this place will be as busy as a strip joint on a Friday night.”

  Glancing at the clock over the bar, Alexa realized her flight was leaving in minutes. With panic rising in her throat, she grabbed her carry-on bag and took off running down the concourse. Pulling up short, she realized she had neither paid for her drinks, nor left a tip. Wheeling around, she smacked into a young woman carrying a plastic cup of soda, sticky liquid sloshing over both of them and spilling on the floor. “Hey, watch it!” she yelled.

  “Sorry, so sorry,” Alexa called over her shoulder as she raced back to Brew 2 Go and tossed a wrinkled twenty at Buck. Sprinting toward the boarding area, she cried out, “I’m coming, hold the door! I’m on that flight!”

  The clerk picked up the mic and radioed ahead that one more passenger was on her way. As the harried traveler screeched to a halt and held up her boarding pass, the clerk chided. “Another second and you would’ve missed it.”

  Barreling down the narrow jet bridge, her carry-on bag bouncing over the metal strips, she gasped for air. Alexa never ran. Her life was sitting. Once inside, the door closed with a loud click. An ash-blond flight attendant with plenty of sky miles on her face approached with a frown. “The overhead bins are full. We’ll keep this up here.”