by Debra Doxer
I knew that later, when I was alone, this moment would embarrass me. I wasn’t sure what happened exactly, only that I couldn’t hold the memories back, not when I was right there in the very spot where my nightmares were born. I’d choked them down for too long, and they were slowly undoing me. Rather than fighting them, I gave in. And now I saw things more clearly than I had in a long time. More importantly, I felt the love of my father again, and it was giving me purpose.
Riley appeared at Spencer’s window. “What are you doing? I can take her home.”
“Go to work, Ri. I’ll take care of her.”
I nearly flinched. His words abruptly ended my pretending because I knew he hadn’t taken care of me before. He’d made things so much worse, but still I sat there, with no desire to move. My eyes met Riley’s, and I looked away. I couldn’t talk yet, not even to her.
She took my silence as agreement. Then she spoke softly to Spencer before walking to her car, occasionally glancing back at us over her shoulder.
Before he could start the motor, I asked, “Did Riley call you?”
He angled a look at me. “Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because she was scared for you, and I’m her emergency contact.” He smiled stiffly before turning the key in the ignition and pulling the van out onto the road.
He appeared tense, and suddenly the idea of being alone with him scared me. I was too vulnerable right now. I couldn’t deal with the flurry of emotion I was sorting through and Spencer. Comforting him had been my role. When he had the chance to return the favor, he’d failed miserably. I shouldn’t have given in to my need to be with him because I wouldn’t give him another shot at hurting me.
“Look…um. Thanks for coming. I’m sorry Riley bothered you. You can just take me back to her apartment.”
His jaw ticked. “It was no bother. And I will take you back. After we’ve talked.”
“Talked? About what?” I asked, as if the scene at the service road hadn’t just happened.
Spencer shot me an incredulous look.
His expression set me off, poking at the anger and resentment I’d tried so hard to let go of. Once again I wondered why he kept showing up. He could have told Riley no when she called him. After all the things he said to me that last day, I would have thought avoiding me would be his priority.
My anger spilled over. “What is there to talk about? Last I heard you were glad I was leaving, and you weren’t even going to miss me. Then you kissed me like you were doing me a big favor. That was my first kiss. Did you know that? Thanks for that monumental moment.”
Hurt settled over his features as the things I’d wanted to say to him for so long poured out like acid. I winced at how I’d sounded, already wishing I could take it back. Causing him more pain wasn’t my intention, and I didn’t want him to know how much he’d hurt me. We’d both been through enough.
We were quiet after that, but he seemed to be stewing in his own thoughts. His body kept moving, switching his hands on the wheel, looking from me to the road. I could feel his internal churning.
“I didn’t mean any of it,” he said, breaking the silence. “Not a word. The way you were looking at me that day, like I could save you somehow, like everything depended on me when I couldn’t do a fucking thing.”
His hands clenched and unclenched on the wheel. Then he shook his head. “No, that’s not true. I could do something, and I did. I gave you a shove. You had to leave and not look back. I knew how stubborn you could be, and I wanted you to think there was nothing here for you anymore, not even me. I hurt you on purpose, Sarah, to make it easier for you to go.”
I studied his profile since he wouldn’t look at me. I might have even believed him if it hadn’t been for that kiss. The kiss that was meant to humiliate me. There could be no other reason for it.
As much as I wanted to let Spencer off the hook and give him the forgiveness he’d asked for, I couldn’t. “I needed a friend. I’d been such a good one to you and when I needed someone, you walked away. I never would have done that, not even for a good reason. I would have found another way.”
He nodded. “You’re right. You wouldn’t have done it. But I’m not you. I handled things the best way I could. If anything had happened to you, I couldn’t have—” He broke off abruptly, rubbing a hand over his mouth. “When you told me you were in that car, I knew my uncle could never find out. I thought of all the horrible things he could do to you, and I had to make sure he never got the chance. I’m sorry I wasn’t the friend you wanted, but I was being a friend, even if you didn’t see it that way.”
My palms started to sweat; I didn’t want to believe him or understand him. I wanted to hold on to my resentment. “What about the kiss?” I asked. That kiss had plagued me since the moment it happened. Time and time again, I remembered the hard pressure of his lips, and those terrible things he said about me getting what I’d always wanted, throwing my feelings in my face.
His hands remained tight on the wheel and his eyes were trained on the road. The tension coming off him was palpable. “That was the only part I did mean. I kissed you because I wanted to. I’d wanted to kiss you for months, and I knew I’d never get the chance again.”
My eyes bore into the side of his face as my chest tightened. What? He’d wanted to kiss me for months?
“The moment I did it I knew it was wrong, that I had no right. Then what I said made it worse. I turned it around on you because I was furious and bitter and already missing something I knew I’d never have. I was heartsick about all of it, and I took it out on you.” Spencer glanced at me. “I’m sorry that’s how your first kiss happened. You deserved better.”
My thoughts were spinning. He’d wanted to kiss me? He’d felt that way about me? I wanted to cry and scream and shake him all at the same time. I couldn’t understand. He’d never said a word about having feelings for me. If only he’d said something. Why hadn’t he told me?
His emotion seemed to drain away, but now he looked uneasy as he continued driving, glancing at me every so often. I hadn’t responded to his confession. I hardly knew what to say or how to feel. All I knew was that my limbs felt heavy, and regret was pooling inside me, drowning the soft cheers of the teenage girl who’d just found out the boy she liked, liked her back.
We were quiet as we pulled up in front of the small cottage Spencer rented with Colby. I got out of the van before he could come around to help me. I must have looked fragile, because he seemed panicky as I stood there before him.
“I’m not going to break, Spencer.”
“I know,” he said. “But you can if you want to.”
My eyes widened. Who the hell was he with his confessions and his unfiltered concern for me? His gaze reached out to mine now, asking me for something, forgiveness again maybe. I didn’t know how to respond. When I didn’t, he finally said, “Come on,” and turned to walk inside. But I didn’t follow. I could hear the sound of the ocean from the parking lot, and I wanted to see it.
I walked down the narrow alley that separated his cottage from his neighbor’s. We were in a development of small one-story structures, all lined up on the beach, each with their own deck and wooden walkway onto the sand. The sound of Spencer’s footsteps followed behind me.
“When did they build these?” I asked as I stepped over a low rock wall.
“A few years ago.”
The view was incredible. A ferry was visible in the distance, carrying passengers to the islands. The breeze blew my hair back and tickled my skin. “Is this part of the beach private?”
When he didn’t answer, I turned to find him looking at me like he had so many times since I’d come back. My skin warmed under his gaze and for the first time I recognized something more in his eyes, a softness there that was new. The butterflies he inspired took flight in my belly. The fourteen-year-old girl inside me still savored the news he’d shared during the ride here. She wished she could have known it then, because knowing now, when it was
too late, caused a sharp pang deep inside her chest.
“Yeah,” he finally answered, reminding me that I’d asked him a question. “This part is private. It’s usually quiet here.”
“Must be expensive,” I said, trying to stay in the conversation.
“Maybe. We get a deal because the owner of Hollander’s rents it out to us.”
It was quiet now, even in the middle of a perfectly sunny day, with only a few families spread out over the long stretch of beach. The tide was coming up, and some seagulls raced it back and forth over the ribbed sheen it left behind in the sand.
When Spencer took my hand, wrapping his long fingers around mine, I sucked in a breath, surprised by the gesture.
Ignoring my reaction, he led me farther onto the beach, toward the water. Then he lowered himself onto the warm sand and pulled me down beside him. The air between us in the van had been thick, but now, here at the ocean, after all he’d told me, it had changed. As I turned to smile at Spencer, I caught him staring at my scar. His gaze traveled the length of it.
“What happened to you just now out on the service road?” he asked, bringing me back to the reason we were sitting here together.
Looking away, I sifted my fingers through the sand. My instinct was to hold back and not tell him, but I decided not to listen to it. “I was remembering. It got a little overwhelming.” Then I shrugged, not sure if I could adequately describe everything I’d seen and felt anyway.
“I’m surprised you’re here alone,” he said. “Why didn’t your mother or sister come with you?”
“They didn’t want to. My mom didn’t even want me to come.” I blew out a heavy breath. “They’re still afraid of this place, even though your uncle is gone.” Then I worked up my courage and asked him the question that had been weighing on me for five long years. “Did he ever stop hurting you?”
He stiffened; apparently I’d caught him off guard. He was quiet for so long, I thought he wasn’t going to answer.
“It got better,” he finally said. Then he cleared his throat and his mouth dipped down. “He was still a mean bastard. That didn’t change, but he was different after that night. He’d never killed anyone before. It did something to him.”
A lump rose in my throat. “What do you mean?”
“He started drinking more. Eventually, he drank all the time. That made him slow. His fists got easier to avoid. When I couldn’t avoid them, Riley’s folks took me in.”
I gritted my teeth, remembering the damage his uncle’s fist had done to him.
“But he never got me again like he did that night,” Spencer was quick to add.
He didn’t have to say which night he was referring to. The words that night would always mean one night to me, and maybe to him too.
“Then he got sick,” Spencer continued, “and it took all the fight out of him. No one ever got the best of Uncle Jackson the way cancer did. It stole everything he had left. My aunt took care of him until she couldn’t anymore. Then he went into a hospice place, and that was it. After living such a destructive life, he died quietly, with barely a whimper.”
He didn’t deserve a peaceful death, one that came without him ever answering for what he’d done. “Did he talk about my dad? Did he say why he did it?”
Spencer seemed surprised, like I should know the answer already. “Because your father treated him like anyone else who broke the law.” That was it. That was all Spencer said.
I nodded because I did know, but I had hoped there was something more, something specific, some reason that made sense because it didn’t make sense to me, and now I realized it never would.
Not liking the way he was watching me, as if I might break any minute, I changed the subject. “How’s your aunt?”
“She’s good,” he said carefully, seeming to understand what I was doing. “She sold the house a few weeks ago and bought a condo. She gets the keys to her new place next month. She has some friends there. It’s kind of perfect for her.”
“Oh.” I had mixed feelings about her. She never protected Spencer or intervened, as far as I knew.
There was another question I wanted to ask him. I should have let it go. Just asking would reveal that it mattered to me. Besides, it felt so trivial in light of everything else we’d just talked about, but I couldn’t seem to stop myself.
“Why didn’t you ever . . . ? I mean, if you wanted to kiss me, why did you wait until the day I was leaving?”
This question didn’t appear to surprise him. Spencer looked at me as if he was weighing his words. “It was never the right time. If I didn’t think I was saying good-bye to you, I still probably wouldn’t have done it.”
I leaned away from him. “When would have been the right time?”
“When you were a little older. When my life got better. When the thought of caring about you that way didn’t scare me to death. I thought I had time.” He shook his head ruefully. “Besides, what business did I have making a move on you? Your life was perfect. All I could do was fuck it up.” He rubbed his hand over his cheek. “I’ve got plenty of excuses, Sarah. Take your pick.”
His excuses were so off base, I hardly knew where to start. “But you dated,” I said. “I heard Emma talking about it.”
“Yeah, well, I never dated, I hooked up. There’s a difference.” He sighed and shifted on the sand to face me. “I was used to not getting what I wanted. I never expected to get you. You were too smart to want to be with me. It was only a matter of time before you figured that out. I wouldn’t have been doing you any favors, believe me.”
I was stunned, because the way he saw himself was so messed up that it had ruined the possibility of there ever being an us. “I wished you’d talked to me. We talked so much, but never about this. You had it all wrong. You know that, don’t you?”
His gaze darted away. “I was wrong thinking I had time, but not about the rest, not then.”
Frustrated, I wanted to argue with him and tell him how mistaken he was until he finally believed me, but what was the point? It was over and done with. There was no changing it. It was another regret to add to the pile.
“You get what you want now,” I pointed out. “You go to a great school, and you’ve got your own band. Are there other things you want? If there are, you should go after them.” I wondered if he was hoping his band might get signed, or if he had other ambitions for his music.
When his eyes locked on mine and stayed there, it took a moment for the realization to sink in. My chest grew tight as I stared into his eyes, wondering if I was reading him right. Me. His gaze seemed to say he wanted me.
His jaw worked, but he didn’t say anything. Then abruptly, he got to his knees in front of me. Before I could anticipate him, Spencer put an arm around my middle and wrapped the other around the back of my knees. I screeched in surprise as he hoisted me up, bending me over his shoulder and heading for the water.
Feeling breathless, my hands landed on his back. “What the hell are you doing?”
He chuckled and said, “What does it look like?”
I had an inverted view of his perfectly rounded ass and the water beyond it. “This better not be what it looks like. Put me down!” I pounded on his back.
A few seconds ago we were having a real conversation, maybe the first one we’d ever had, and this was a pretty extreme way to put an end to it. I wasn’t pretending. I wanted down. I kept pounding and then I started kicking my legs, trying to get him to release me.
Spencer didn’t hesitate as he waded into the water, fully dressed, just like I was. I started yelling expletives at him, calling him names I was surprised I even knew. Once he was thigh deep, he lifted me up off his shoulder like I weighed nothing at all, smiled his ass off at my mutinous expression, and tossed me into the air.
My face must have been a mask of disbelief as I went flying, arms spread wide, before I hit the water with a gasp and a splash, going under backside first. It was late August, the ocean wasn’t too cold, but it might
have been nice if Spencer had asked me if I wanted to go swimming. Soaked through and bent on revenge, I pushed up to my feet.
“I can believe you did that,” I sputtered, wiping the water from my eyes.
When I straightened, his eyes grew wide as his gaze trailed down my body. My own breath left my lungs at the way he was looking at me. Glancing down, I saw that my tank top was molded to my chest, revealing my pink bra underneath. Every curve I possessed was outlined by my wet clothes.
Looking back at him, feeling the change in the atmosphere between us, my gaze wandered over his body too, noticing the way his damp T-shirt stuck to the ridged muscles of his chest and abdomen, and how his soaked khakis hung low on his hips. I wanted to reach out and trace my fingers over his wet skin. I wanted to touch him so badly, my hands fisted by my sides in resistance.
When I met his gaze, I feared he knew what I was thinking. Feeling self-conscious, needing to break out of this moment, I used all my strength and the force of an oncoming wave to take him by surprise and splash him full in the face.
Coughing and spitting out water, he blinked at me. A moment later, his eyes narrowed, and soon we were in an all-out water war, arms flailing, voices raised in laughter, until he ambushed me, wrapping his arms around my body, pinning my arms to my sides.
My breath came out in loud rasps, and he waited until I’d caught it before he whispered, “Say ‘I give,’ Sarah.” His eyes were intent on mine.
My lips tightened in determination as I tried to wriggle out of his grasp.
Calmly, he watched and waited as if he had all day. His arms were like steel bands around me, making my heart stop along with my racing thoughts. I was burning up inside even as my skin began to chill in the cool ocean air. Did he have any idea how much I once wanted this, to be held in his arms? Did he mean the emotions that flooded his eyes back on the sand? Did I want him to?