Soaked (The Water's Edge #2)

by Stacy Kestwick

  I binged on vending machine junk food and soda, not wanting to fight the storm to find real food. It didn’t matter anyway. Everything was tasteless, even the little powdered sugar doughnuts that came in a roll of six and had more calories than anyone needed in a whole day, let alone one sitting. Eating was just a way to pass the time, to mark the hours until I could confront Asshole and fuck him over the way he had me.

  My emotions swung like an out-of-control pendulum. Fury at Asshole. Frustration with the whole male gender. Victory when the videos were successfully removed from the website. Disappointment in myself for my taste in men. Confusion whenever I thought about West—my head warning me away, my heart wanting to return to him, refusing to give up.

  Rue was a saint. We talked for hours. She listened to my mindless rants, the twisted tangents I took, always agreeing with me, even when I contradicted things I’d said five minutes earlier.

  When I suggested we try a lesbian relationship—together—she took me seriously, in true best friend fashion. I wrote down a list of pros and cons on the little pad of stationary I found tucked next to the Gideon’s Bible in the cheap nightstand drawer. And there were a lot of pros. Except neither of us wanted to have sex with each other. Strap-ons were an option, but we argued over who would top and who would bottom. Naturally, she wanted to top, but I was tired of being second-place in a relationship. If anything, I would be the top.

  And, typical Rue, who was never satisfied with her partner, even managed to find something wrong with me. If she was going to be a lesbian, she insisted upon Brazilians for both of us. I loved her, but not enough to have hot wax ripped off my lady bits. Our relationship was doomed before it even started.

  Drawing a big X across the list, I fiddled with the paper, not realizing what I’d done until I was holding a perfectly folded paper airplane in my hand. Crumpling it up, I tossed it toward the trash can in the corner, and missed by a good foot, which wasn’t surprising, since I was failing at life at every turn.

  When we finally hung up so Rue could make a few necessary phone calls to ensure everything with our plan was still lined up and ready to go when I arrived tomorrow, I was at a loss.

  Television didn’t hold my interest. Songs about heartbreak hit too close to home, so I turned off the radio. The Wi-Fi at this motel was abysmal, which was just as well, because I didn’t need the temptation of Facebook anyway.

  Instead, I pulled out my laptop and scrolled through the photos of my last session on Reynolds Island. The one with West flying a kite with his sister Hailey and her son, Cody. The moment when I realized I could see us having kids together one day. When I realized I loved him.

  In the aftermath, I’d never properly edited the images and sent them to Hailey. Guilt and a desire to keep busy had me sorting through them now, picking the best and making small tweaks to enhance the shots.

  I smiled as I worked. Cody perched on West’s broad shoulders, Hailey’s hand reaching up to help steady her son. Cody’s wide-eyed smile, full of innocent glee. The carefree grin West shot me over his shoulder, his eyes soft and warm as they met mine through the lens. West tossing Cody high in the air. Hailey holding his little hands and spinning them in circles until they both fell to the sand, dizzy and laughing, heads thrown back. The look on West’s face as he headed my direction, urging me to put the camera down and just enjoy the moment. Lips tipped in a smirk while his blue-gray eyes shone with . . .

  I bit my lip.

  This one photo. It was all there. It was obvious how he felt about me.

  Before I could over think things, I unblocked him and dialed his number, my hands shaking and tears pricking my eyes.

  Everything in my life was wrong and upside down and messed up, and damn it all, I just needed to hear his voice.

  As it rang, I checked the clock on the flimsy nightstand. It was late. Really late. After midnight. My flight left at 8:40 in the morning, and I should’ve already been asleep, if only my fucking mind would quiet down and give me some peace.

  On the third ring, I was lowering the phone to hang up when his voice came through the speaker.

  “Sadie?”

  Biting my lip, the first tear escaping from my eye, I lifted the phone back to my ear.

  “Sadie.”

  His voice. Fuck, I’d missed his voice. The way my name rolled off his tongue husky and deep. I could hear so much in just the way he said my name.

  Hope. Worry. Relief.

  A sharp ache pierced through me, longing so intense my stomach clenched in need and I wanted nothing more in that moment than to be able to touch him, feel his heat next to me. To belong to him again.

  I gripped the phone tighter but couldn’t answer him. My throat was too thick, the words I wished I could say to him choking me as I fought to swallow them down.

  “I’m here. Whatever it is, baby, I’m here. Always.”

  More tears slid down my cheeks, the first ones blazing a trail the others were quick to follow. I took a ragged breath I knew he could hear on his end, heard the way his own caught in response.

  “You don’t have to say anything. It’s okay. Just don’t hang up. Fuck, I’ve missed you.” The anguish in his voice had me pressing a fist over my mouth, trying to stifle the sobs that wanted to escape.

  I missed him too. I wanted him here, his arms around me, holding me, protecting me from the shit storm my life had become. Curling into a ball on the thin, polyester comforter, I waited, somehow knowing he’d give me exactly what I needed.

  “I know I fucked up, Sadie. Not with Aubrey—you have to know that there’s nothing between us.” His hard tone was insistent, unyielding in his declaration, and I wanted so badly to believe him. “But I fucked up just the same because I hurt you, and that’s the last thing I ever wanted to do.”

  He paused and I could picture him running his hand through his hair the way he did when he was upset.

  “I love you.” No hint of begging, pleading, or accusation from him. Just quiet sincerity. “I promised myself you’d never have to wonder about that again. I’ll tell you every damn chance I get, every chance you’ll let me.”

  My shoulders shook from the silent cries I refused to let him hear, too proud to let him know how broken I was at that moment. My heart echoed his sentiment, but my stubborn head kept my lips from answering him.

  Movement on his end. The click of a door shutting. Footsteps. “I’m so glad you called. I check my phone a thousand times a day, just hoping . . .” He trailed off. The rain beat against the window and I strained to hear anything on his end.

  “I wish you were next to me right now.” Frustration mixed with longing in his voice. A rustling sound mingled with the squeak of bedsprings. I pictured him sliding into bed, the rumpled sheets bunched around his waist. “I miss our sleepovers. The way you burrowed into me and fit so perfectly in my arms, your hair tickling my nose, and your cold feet tucked between my legs.” He sighed, the sound cracking another wall I’d erected between us. “My pillow didn’t smell like you anymore, so I went to the store and bought some of that watermelon shampoo you use. I thought maybe if I used it right before I went to bed, maybe it’d rub off and it would seem like you’d just been here with me.” He blew out a single depreciating laugh. “It didn’t work.”

  I rubbed my palm over my eyes, and licked my salty lips. I wanted to say something, anything to him. But I didn’t even know where to start.

  “Sadie, don’t hang up. Even if you don’t say anything back tonight, just don’t hang up, okay? If this is the closest I can get to falling asleep with you, I’ll take it. Just knowing you’re on the other end, fuck, it’s so much better than this emptiness I’ve felt since you left.”

  I pulled back the gross blanket, settling between the rough sheets and trying to find a comfortable position on the hard, lumpy pillow. What I wouldn’t give to be nestled against his chest, using the crook of his shoulder to sleep on, his solid warmth lulling me to sleep. But I’d settle for his deep voice in my e
ar instead. Even if I couldn’t admit that to him.

  “I don’t know what finally made you call tonight, but I’m glad you did. I’ve been going crazy here without you. Even General Beauregard is avoiding me. I guess I’ve been a moody bastard.” He chuckled, then his voice turned softer, more serious. “I hope you’re okay. I hope you’re happy. Even if that means you’re not coming back to me when you come home. That’s all I really want—for you to be happy.”

  We were both quiet. Just breathing over the line, our rhythms adjusting until we were synchronized. I pressed a hand over the ache in my chest.

  “I’m just gonna talk, okay, Sadie? Tell you all the stupid stuff I would’ve told you if you were next to me in bed. About Wyatt making a fool of himself at the bar, and the crazy client I had the other day who wanted to fish a tournament but was scared to actually touch the fish he caught, and about the trouble Cody has been causing Hailey, and . . . and I’m just gonna talk because I’m scared if I stop you’re gonna hang up.”

  He took a deep breath. Then launched into story after story. The words blurred together. The only thing I really listened to was his voice. The way it filled with laughter and twisted with sarcasm and gentled when he talked about his nephew. The way he never stopped talking, never let go of me even as the clock crept past one, then two, then three.

  I never saw it reach four. I must’ve fallen asleep to the lullaby of his words.

  When the insistent beep of the alarm woke me at five, I still had the phone in my hand, although it was no longer pressed to me ear.

  Texts from him and Rue waited for me.

  Helpless to resist, I opened the one from him first.

  It was a pic of General Beauregard stretched out on the bed next to him, drool puddling beneath his jowls.

  West: He’s keeping your spot warm.

  I lingered for a moment, imagining West in bed, rumpled and warm and probably shirtless, reaching over to snuggle the oversized hound. Was I jealous of a dog in that moment?

  Maybe.

  Probably.

  Forcing away the bitter sting of longing, I tapped on the message from Rue.

  Rue: Everything’s in place. Just waiting on you.

  I sucked in a deep breath and thought of Asher with his smug, arrogant face I’d once found so handsome. How he’d proven his utter lack of decency as a human being. How he’d broken me, ripping everything I thought I knew about my life to shreds.

  A smile cracked the dried tearstains on my face.

  I couldn’t wait to repay the favor.

  BY THE TIME the plane landed and Rue picked me up from the airport, I only had ninety minutes to prepare myself. When we got to the hotel room—I’d convinced her I didn’t want my family involved or to know I was in town until after I had things under control—she immediately set to work on my makeup. No, that’s not being shallow. When confronting scum like Asshole, it was important to feel untouchable, invincible. On a level so much higher than him, he could never hope to reach it in his wildest dreams. And part of that was external armor: flawless hair and makeup and a killer outfit. And shoes I wouldn’t trip in. Nothing ruined a dramatic exit like tripping over heels that were too tall.

  She pulled my hair back into a French braid that somehow screamed sophistication and effortless style, despite its messy-on-purpose appearance. A bright, silky top, black skinny jeans, wedge sandals and fierce eyeliner completed the look.

  We argued about whether she would accompany me all the way to my old loft or wait in the car. She didn’t want to leave me alone with him. I wanted to show him I was strong enough to confront him solo. We had to watch the time carefully though. Once I showed up, I’d only have about thirty-five minutes or so before the life Asshole had become so comfortable with came crashing down around him.

  Because Rue never did anything half-assed and wouldn’t be caught dead driving a standard compact car, she pulled the low-slung luxury rental to the curb outside the converted warehouse on the edge of the trendy side of Nashville I used to call home. Turning off the engine, she caught my hand before I could reach for the door handle.

  “Are you ready for this? Do you need a moment?”

  I licked my dry lips, hoping I didn’t smudge my lipstick. “Does it really matter if I’m ready?”

  Dropping my cold fingers, she grabbed my shoulders and tugged until I was facing her. “You, Sadie Mullins, are a strong, beautiful woman worth a thousand Asher Snowdens. What he did to you was not only a breach of your trust, your relationship, and basic fucking human decency, but is also a reflection of him. Not you. Him. His weakness. His shallowness. His fragile fucking ego that needed his brainless friends to tell him what a stud he was for him to feel remotely like a man. Which he isn’t. He’s an asshole. Not even a high-production-quality porn asshole. All hairless and bleached and shit. No, he’s like a dirty, hairy, I-can’t-wipe-my-own-ass-without-help asshole with hemorrhoids. Big, fat, painful ones.” Her fingers dug into my upper arms.

  “Big ones, huh?” A strangled giggle escaped from me.

  “Huge.” She nodded, dead serious. “Not to mention his sheer idiocy. Everything’s set in motion now. There’s no escape for him. He’s not getting away with it.” She hesitated, before repeating herself. “He’s not getting away with it. Meaning, you don’t have to go up there and see him at all, and he’ll still get everything that’s coming to him without you ever having to lay eyes on that scumbag again.”

  Reaching up, I pulled her hands from my shoulders. “I know. But I need to do this. For me.”

  “Want me to come up?” She offered one last time. “I could wait in the hall, out of sight, but nearby in case you need me.”

  I reached across the console and wrapped her in a giant hug. This is what true friendship was.

  “I can do this, Rue. I have to.” My face hardened with determination, and I took a second to just breathe. Thirty-one minutes left.

  Show time.

  Flashing her a grim smile, I opened the car door and stepped out onto the sidewalk. As I headed for the front door, Rue’s voice followed me. “Kick him in the nuts when you’re done ripping him a new one!”

  I snickered.

  As I walked across the limestone floor of the lobby and waited for the elevator, I kept waiting for my nerves to hit, but my stomach stayed settled. My palms and pits were dry. My jaw set. I was ready. More than ready.

  I was a fucking woman scorned, and it was time for him to pay.

  Even though I still had a key to the loft on my key ring, I knocked. Besides, I’d left my purse in the car. Just had my phone tucked in my rear pocket in case I needed Rue for back up after all. She’d be at the door in about twenty-eight minutes if I hadn’t already reappeared outside. Hell, knowing her, she wouldn’t even wait that long. She was probably waiting around the corner to stick her ear up to the door once I got inside, despite promising to wait in the car.

  Plus, I’d already hit the button on the phone that would record our entire conversation.

  Face blank, I looked right at the peephole. After footsteps from inside approached there was a pause, where I assumed he was checking who it was. Then an even longer hesitation, using another precious minute up, before the chain rattled and the door opened.

  And he was right there. In front of me.

  Smug smirk firmly in place.

  He leaned his forearm against the doorframe, his unwelcome gaze raking me from head to toe.

  “Sadie.” It was a statement, not a question, and only the faintest hint of surprise slipped through. Almost as if he’d been expecting me.

  I didn’t fidget. Didn’t shift uneasily side-to-side. Wasn’t remotely intimidated.

  I didn’t return the perusal. Had he gained weight, put on muscle, developed a gut? Didn’t know, didn’t care.

  “Asher.” I kept the word short and clipped.

  His hair was longer than I remembered. Mussed in a way most girls probably enjoyed. Hell, maybe one had just enjoyed it. Two days’ w
orth of scruff roughened his jawline beneath the twist of his lips. Lips that had touched every inch of me in the past.

  I barely restrained the shudder that thought elicited. Ew. Just . . . ew.

  Raising his eyebrows, he pushed the door open the rest of the way and swept his arm out, inviting me inside. With a sneer, I moved past him, careful to keep any part of me from brushing against him in the process.

  I stalked into the living room . . . which hadn’t changed a bit, except it was messier than it ever was when I still lived there. And there was a newer, nicer GoPro sitting on the console table.

  Bet he was getting a lot of use out of that.

  Following me part of the way, he stopped at the breakfast bar that divided the space, perching on one of the stainless-steel industrial stools I’d splurged on after we moved in, his arms crossed at his chest.

  “I figured you’d come back at some point,” he started. “But I kind of thought you’d call first.”

  A sweet, sweet smile broke my stony façade, and I tucked my arms behind my back, to keep him from seeing my clenched fist. “And what was it you thought I’d be coming back for?”

  Running a hand through his messy hair, he chuckled. “Sadie, you can’t deny we were good together. We were fucking great together. Especially in there.” He tipped his head toward the open bedroom door, where I caught a quick glimpse of the unmade bed before whipping my eyes back at him. “I knew once you got over your little snit and got tired of hiding down on the coast with Rue, you’d make your way back. This is your home. Nashville. Here. This loft. Me.”

  I blinked at him, hid my shock behind a fake cough. “Tell me again what was so great? The fact that you videotaped me without consent? Shared it with your friends without me knowing? No, wait. Was it the cheating? The lying? Which of those things exactly, Asher?” I rubbed my chin as I thought. “No . . . maybe it was the fact that you uploaded those videos to the internet, again, without my consent, for the whole fucking world to see?”