Sail (The Wake Series Book 2)

by M. Mabie

  That’s my fucking girl.

  I looked at the clock, it was barely after six. I needed to call my banker. That fucking building was mine or she was moving. And since I couldn’t make that decision for her, I made the only one I could.

  “Honeybee, I’ll call you back. Okay? I need to call my dad really quick.”

  “Okay, I’m here anyway. I just wanted to call and tell you. That’s messed up, isn’t it? I’m not out of line, am I?” She still wanted to vent and I was glad she wasn’t alone. She was livid.

  “You are nowhere near out of line, Blake. He can’t do that. He won’t do it again.”

  I paced back and forth in my hotel room feeling helpless.

  True, Grant didn’t really do anything threatening, but my hackles were rising. He was going to start realizing really quickly that she was mine and I didn’t give a shit how he felt about it anymore.

  “Okay. I’ll talk to you later,” she said.

  “I love you,” I told her quickly, before she could hang up.

  We still didn’t say those words all that often, and sometimes I thought I needed to tell her more than I did. But at that moment, alone and kind of freaking the fuck out, I needed to hear them back. I hated feeling so far from her. I was just thankful she was at her parents’ house, even if it was just for dinner.

  “I love you back,” she said.

  We hung up and I dialed my father. It wasn’t typical for me to call him for help, but I needed him. I’d never bought a property. And certainly not on a whim. I’d inherited my house. And truthfully, he’d handled a lot of that for me, too.

  “I was just thinking about calling you, Casey. How’s Texas?” he asked when he picked up.

  “It’s far from Washington. That’s how Texas is right now, Dad. Listen I need your help. I want to buy a duplex in Seattle. Like right now.” I wasn’t even sure if it was possible.

  “What? I don’t understand,” he said.

  “I have to buy the place where Blake lives.” I didn’t have time to explain it all. I needed him making a call, or pulling some strings, or whatever the hell he did. I needed that.

  He was concerned. “Is everything all right?”

  “I think so. The short story is, Blake’s ex is the agent who’s selling her duplex and the motherfucker is using his key to let himself in. I want to make an offer on it tonight.”

  He went over a few things with me, but since my mother’s passing, he was a signatory on all of my accounts. He told me he didn’t know what he could do at that time of night, but he’d try his best.

  I gave him the address and the number to call Grant’s agency. I didn’t care if Grant found out. I hoped he did.

  I wanted those locks changed tomorrow.

  If I couldn’t be there with her, I had to know she was safe. She’d always said he’d never been violent with her, but there was an undeniable feeling in my gut telling me that he wasn’t the same guy now. Evidently, this new guy was someone she didn’t know, and certainly someone I didn’t trust.

  My dad called back a short time later, telling me we’d made a cash offer with the help of his good friend who was in real-estate. Dad explained to him it needed to happen fast. So we offered over asking, with only a small window of time for the sellers to accept.

  By nine o’clock, the apartment block was under contract. The best part was, as part of the deal, all of the locks had to be changed by morning and I was assured it would be done. As detailed in the contract, their real-estate brokerage wouldn’t have access to the new keys. They’d be handled solely by the locksmith that our realtor arranged.

  My honeybee was safe.

  It was as if an albatross of stress had been lifted from my shoulders. Knee-jerk reaction? Perhaps. But my girl meant everything to me, and I needed her safe. Even if I couldn’t protect her with my physical presence, at least I could do this.

  It was an impulsive move, but I had the means to do it. What was money worth to me if I couldn’t use it when I needed to?

  My dad called me crazy, but he didn’t give me too much shit. I didn’t expect him to, he knew first-hand I’d saved every cent I’d ever made. He laughed when he told me he was going to suggest I purchase property soon, but I’d just beaten him to it. And in a big way.

  The sale didn’t hurt me and I could re-sell it later if I wanted. It wasn’t a bad move. It was just a fast one.

  I needed to talk to Blake. I was nervous she’d see it differently, but I prayed she would understand. I couldn’t allow that guy to waltz the fuck in on her whenever he wanted. End of discussion.

  She called me first.

  “Hey there,” I answered.

  “Hey,” she said, sounding less wound up than she had before. “Are you sleeping? I’m sorry time got away from me over here.”

  No, I hadn’t been sleeping. I’d been making the biggest purchase of my life thus far and kind of in a weird and twisted way, buying our first home. Sort of. Okay, that was a stretch, but I owned it and she lived there, so why split hairs? I just had to tell her I’d be her new landlord, shortly after banks opened up the next day and the papers were signed.

  “Are you still at your parents’ house?” She’d said here, so I hoped she was.

  “Yeah, it’s funny. I thought you were going to flip-out about Grant. But I wasn’t expecting my dad to lose his shit when I told them what happened. He was not a happy camper.”

  I already liked her dad, now I loved him. And little did she know that under my calm exterior, I had lost all my shit, too. Then managed to best that dickhead, almost ex-husband of hers, all from the comfort of my hotel room.

  “Really, he didn’t like that too much either, huh?”

  “No, he called Mr. Kelly, Grant’s dad, and let him know about it, too. Then, Mr. Kelly called him back and said someone bought the place tonight and that the locks were being changed. I didn’t realize things happened so fast.”

  They do when you’re a motivated buyer and I had a shit-load of motivation.

  “Yeah, we need to talk about that,” I coaxed as I sat on the small balcony and sipped the bourbon I’d ordered up. “I bought it.”

  There was a pause. A long, notable pause.

  “Blake?” I asked when she didn’t answer after thirty seconds or so. “Are you there?”

  “You did what?” She was calm, but I could hear anxiety in her voice.

  “Hear me out. When you called and I thought about him being able to walk his happy ass through your door, whenever he damn well pleased, I reacted.” It might seem insane to her. But could I keep my sanity worrying if he’d stop in sometime—if he were mad or drunk like he was in San Francisco—trying to get his way? I couldn’t bear the thought of it.

  What if the fucker came during the night when she was asleep?

  And had I not jumped on the opportunity, that exact thought would have consumed me. “When you called you were obviously shaken by him letting himself in and the easiest way for me to make sure that didn’t happen again was to buy the building.”

  “You bought my apartment?” she reiterated.

  “I bought your apartment. Well, I’m buying the apartment—with conditions.”

  “Conditions?”

  “Yes, one being every lock will be changed in the morning and the sale moves through closing in the next few days.”

  “You can do that?”

  “Technically, yes. I can do that, but my dad helped me.” I owed my old man huge for what he’d got accomplished on my behalf and so quickly. I’d think of something, but at that moment, I needed to make sure Blake and I were on the same page.

  “How did you do that?”

  “Money talks, honeybee. I paid cash.” I wasn’t ashamed of my money, but I wasn’t in the business of advertising it either.

  “You have cash?” she asked and she chuckled a little, taken aback. “You have enough cash to just buy a duplex on a whim?”

  “I guess so.”

  We were both silent. I gave
her time to process it, and I suppose I was still letting it sink in, too. Seeing the number on your bank account balance is one thing, but seeing the power it gave you, when you needed it, was a whole different ballgame.

  “Will you stay at your parents’ house tonight?” I finally asked knowing that it might be the straw that broke the camel’s back. If Grant were, like how I was making him out to be in my mind, he wouldn’t be too thrilled to learn what I’d done. And I was pretty sure he already knew.

  “You’re really worried about this, aren’t you?” she asked.

  “Maybe. I don’t know. I’ve never been through a divorce, Blake. I mean, my parents’ divorce—sure. I don’t know how this is supposed to go. Or what my role is supposed to be. What I do know is—that aside—you’re my girlfriend and if I feel like there’s even the slightest chance someone might wrong you or hurt you or even trouble you, then I want to deal with it myself.”

  How was that for a reformed one-night stand guy? I had catapulted right into possessive alpha Neanderthal, but I was powerless to stop it. I didn’t want it to stop; it felt pretty fucking cool.

  “What are you thinking?” I asked after she didn’t reply.

  “Well, it was a bold move, but I get why you did it. I should probably be a little pissed you didn’t tell me what you were doing, for some unknown reason. Only because it just seems like what I’m supposed to think. But, Casey, I just feel so…so…loved.”

  And she was and I’d show her every day.

  Bullseye. Point for Lou.

  Saturday, April 24, 2010

  EVERY DAY HE PROVED how much he loved me. Sometimes he had strange ways of doing it, but the message was clear.

  If it was just age, and we were always going to be aging and evolving, then I couldn’t wait to see what Casey would be like in five years. Ten years. My heart felt full and I felt content from the thought of a future with him. Our future.

  He freaking bought my apartment building, all because Grant came in without permission. It went against every slightly feminist fiber in my body to be okay with what he’d done, but I understood it. He’d been powerless for so long. How was I to know, if I’d just gone to him, if I’d just let him know I needed him in the past—that he’d be there for me in every single way that I’d let him?

  It wasn’t unknown to me anymore.

  He was becoming more than just a friend, more than just a lover. He was what living felt like. Having someone who would argue with you over things, then blindly go into battle with you, for you, even when you were as wrong as I’d been so many damn times.

  I talked to Micah on the phone the night before I flew to San Francisco for Foster’s party. His birthday was actually Monday, but they were having his party on Saturday because it was easier. It was hard to believe he was already a year old.

  “What brought all of this change on, Blake?” She laughed as she questioned me about everything that had happened since her wedding. “Cory and I were talking about this the other day. We don’t get it. You guys chased each other in circles for so long. And then it was like boom. Everything just flipped.”

  She was right, but there wasn’t just one moment. There were many that led me to finally admit—and not just to myself—what I wanted. What I needed.

  “On my honeymoon, I knew I’d made a mistake. A huge mistake. One morning, I was alone on the beach and wrote a letter to him. Micah, I messed up. You don’t know how badly I wanted to tell him. To take it all back. Do it all over. But there I was. Before the wedding, he came to my mom and dad’s. Did you know that?”

  “He did? We knew he went to the wedding, but we didn’t know he saw you first.”

  “He did. He told me he loved me and I told him to leave. I was angry that it had taken him that long, and I was scared. Because it was my wedding day and it felt like it was out of my control. So I thought I’d just wait, then I’d leave Grant. Isn’t it sad I started planning my divorce two days after my wedding?” My voice was starting to shake. Even with weeks of seeing Dr. Rex, I still struggled with forgiving myself.

  “Oh, Blake,” she consoled.

  “Then, when I went to see him, after his mother passed away, I knew it wasn’t fair to trail him along until I was brave enough. It wasn’t fair to have him wait for me, when I didn’t even deserve him. At your wedding, when everything came out, I didn’t have to worry about telling or confessing anymore. It was out and it was like my eyes had been opened. That was my chance.” It had only been four months, but so much had happened. I was taking ownership of my choices. Truthfully, it started with me making the first right one. Not going back to Grant’s.

  I sat there on my bed, my suitcase open and almost totally packed, talking to my friend. A friend who Casey and I had managed to put in the middle of our mess so many times.

  “I owe you an apology for your wedding.”

  “You’ve apologized a million times. Stop.”

  “Well, I’m sorry it happened there, but I’m thankful it happened.”

  “I’m glad, too. I want you to be happy. The bonus is, we like seeing how happy Casey is, too.”

  “Good. Now how’s the birthday boy?” The world didn’t revolve around us. Even though Micah and Cory were always there for us both, in some way, we’d stolen focus from them on more than one occasion. And tomorrow was all about that sweet little boy.

  “Into everything. Wait until you see his chubby little waddle. He’s a mess.” She giggled and then spoke to Foster, who was no doubt at her ankles. “Yes, you are. You’re a mess.”

  She told me about how he was saying “mama” and “duh-duh” and how he laughed at just about everything. She confessed that every evening, while Cory was putting Foster into his pajamas, they’d have a man-to-man talk. And while she was supposed to be making his bottle, she’d secretly listen and swoon her ass off—her words, not mine—every single night.

  She sided with me about needing to tell Grant I didn’t want to go to couples counseling, for the same reasons. The main one being—it was a waste of time. He never showed up, always having something urgent pop up. And ultimately, it wasn’t going to change a damn thing. But Casey had insisted I keep my end of the deal, and I continued to invite him anyway, until May. If he had ever showed up that would have been the six sessions we agreed to.

  I was happy he never showed up. And Dr. Rex and I—even though it probably wasn’t professional on her part—decided if he ever did, she’d just tell him it wasn’t going to work out. She’d explain couples therapy wasn’t a good solution for our marriage.

  Our marriage. What a joke that turned out to be.

  Micah and I hung up, excited we’d get to see each other the next day.

  Before I fell asleep, I sent Casey a message. He was out to dinner with a new customer, but telling him goodnight was a routine I liked. I slept better after sending him even the most trivial of texts. Knowing I probably wouldn’t get his reply until morning, it still left me feeling sound and like things were as they should be.

  Me: I’m crashing out. I hope they loved you and they buy all the beers. LOL. I’ll see you tomorrow. I love you.

  I rolled over and was surprised when my phone chimed right after.

  Casey: Bad meeting. Aly showed up. I’ll call you in the morning to wake you up? Six thirty?

  Aly.

  As much as I hated her, simply because she wanted my man, I was surprised how much she’d backed off Casey after New Year’s. At least, to my knowledge she had. There was no reason for me to think otherwise. He told me everything.

  Besides, his text told me he wasn’t pleased about her being there.

  Me: Yeah, six thirty is good, but I’m still up if you want to talk now.

  Casey: No. She’s drunk. I’m going to put her to bed.

  I took a calming breath. She was drunk, but—according to the lack of typos—he wasn’t.

  I trusted Casey.

  I trusted Casey.

  I trusted Casey.

  I chanted
that to myself thirty times. He’d never given me any reason not to. And I think he trusted me, too. Even though, my track record showed I shouldn’t be trusted with a ten-foot pole.

  Me: All right.

  Casey: All right... and...?

  Me: And I love you.

  Casey: I can’t wait to see you tomorrow. We’re not going this long again without seeing each other. It sucks too much.

  Casey: ... and I love you too.

  He was right. We hadn’t seen each other since Valentine’s Day and it really was too long. Casey was spending a lot of time in Austin and I’d kept very busy out of town with work, too.

  That was another reason the therapist appointments with Grant weren’t going as planned. Working around my schedule was a challenge. But I still thought he wasn’t signing the papers just to be difficult. I was really close to saying fuck it and having him served.

  I didn’t want to be that person, but he wasn’t leaving me with many options. The sooner my divorce was final, the sooner I’d feel more comfortable making plans for Casey and me.

  Or landlord and me—which I now thought was kind of hot.

  After he bought my building, and had all of the locks changed, he also put up a fence. The apartment next to mine became empty and Casey was holding it for Audrey. She wanted to move out of the dorms and he thought it was the perfect solution having me right next door.

  I reminded him she was an adult.

  He reminded me she was still his little sister living in a big city where he didn’t know many people.

  Audrey was great. I was ecstatic to have someone I knew living next door. I knew he wouldn’t charge her rent, because he hadn’t cashed either of my checks. Casey liked the idea of being able to see her more when he had the time to visit in the future—when work for the both of us slowed down a little.

  After spring semester ended, she’d move in.

  Secretly, I loved spending time with her. She and Casey were so much alike, in a free spirit sort of way. And the hair. Although lighter, it was curly and even if it was a small thing, it made me smile. We were meeting up about once a week for coffee, and we were flying together for the birthday party. Being around her made me miss him less.