Blues Beach [Suncoast Society]

by Tymber Dalton

  He couldn’t.

  Not in a house that the two of them had spent years rehabbing themselves. He couldn’t bear it. He went out of his way to never drive past it.

  Especially when the bottom line was that it was his fault, even if everyone kept insisting it wasn’t.

  The urn on his bookcase and their wedding picture, along with the framed sonogram picture, were simultaneously almost more than he could tolerate and things he couldn’t bear to be without.

  He’d lived in the small apartment for four years now after downsizing. In the early days, it took everything he’d had to peel himself out of bed every day. The last thing he’d be able to do was take care of a large house, much less afford it on his salary.

  At least he had a job, and he couldn’t stomach the thought of going to his parents with his tail between his legs and admitting that all his college education and what he’d thought were years of a great career had come to nothing.

  No high-paying job.

  No loving wife.

  No kids.

  Nothing but a fistful of dreams and a soul full of blues and grief.

  He thought about Tracey, the way the haunted look in her eyes had disappeared for a little while when they were together.

  Making her laugh.

  Making her smile.

  Making her moan and dig her nails into his back as the two of them lost their troubles together for a little while.

  He could still see the beautiful girl he’d been desperately in love with and hadn’t wanted to leave behind.

  What if he’d proposed to her back then, before college, the way he’d thought about doing? Begged her to come with him instead of letting her fly away into the ether?

  Maybe he should find her, contact her.

  His soul had finally felt less dead, while with her.

  Maybe, if nothing else, they could be friends. He was still kicking himself in the ass that he hadn’t got her phone number or e-mail address, but someone would have it, right? He could get it through JJ, once his friend had time to grieve and recover from the funeral.

  Right now, Eric needed to focus on his future.

  He’d have to prepare to move.

  Fortunately, that’d be the easiest part of the process. He could have the apartment packed and loaded in a truck in a weekend.

  Halfway into the beer, it tasted bitter to him. He stood, taking it to the sink, dumping it and leaving the empty bottle there. This was his life. If he didn’t want to go insane, he needed to stick with what he had now, instead of driving himself crazy over what he’d lost or what he wished could be.

  Focus on my job. That’s what I need to do. That’s the only thing I need to do.

  The Universe had dropped this opportunity into his lap.

  A new start.

  What he really needed to do was get the fuck out of New Jersey and start over somewhere that wasn’t full of heartbreaking memories every time he turned around. Once he settled into his new life in Florida, he could find a new counselor and start going again. He’d stopped a year after losing Paige, and that had been a mistake.

  But at the time, it’d felt like he wasn’t making any progress, and he really couldn’t afford it anymore.

  He slowly nodded to himself. Even if Tracey never contacted him again, he needed to do this. Because his life had grown stagnant here, and it would not get better without a drastic change.

  Besides, Tracey had been through enough already, it sounded like. The last thing she needed was someone like him adding to her troubles. They’d had a wonderful weekend together that had—hopefully—eased her mind as much as it had his for a while.

  Maybe she took home some good memories.

  He hoped.

  Until he pulled his own shit together, maybe the last thing she needed was to be saddled with someone like him. She sounded like she was making things happen for herself.

  Didn’t he owe it to himself, if no one else, to try to drag himself out of this emotional swamp?

  If she’d wanted to contact him, she knew she could get his number from JJ. Besides, she had a daughter, a job. It sounded like she was working on classes and advancing in her company.

  Leave it alone. If she really wanted to contact you, she’d have called by now. You need to start living for you, because you’re the only person you are stuck with for the rest of your life.

  He took a shower, brushed his teeth, and stopped by the dresser. On the top, one of the few things he’d kept, unable to part with it.

  Paige’s leather collar.

  He fingered it, the buckle, the edges, the Celtic raven embossed in the black leather. She’d fallen in love with it and he’d bought it for her immediately, knowing the way her eyes lit up when she’d seen it was something he wanted to keep repeating.

  He’d found two women in his life who were interested in the dark side of him. Even if Tracey never contacted him…

  He’d had closure.

  Finally.

  It would suck if it turned out she never contacted him again. But for right now, he needed to get moved and get to Florida. Once he was there and settled, he’d take a hard look at things and then decide whether he should make one last attempt to talk to her. Enough time would have passed following Cara’s death that he wouldn’t feel like an asshole calling JJ to get Tracey’s information.

  And maybe she would have contacted him by then, and Eric would have a hint one way or another if she still had any real interest in him.

  But nearly twenty-five years had passed. A few more weeks was nothing.

  If anything, it’d give him time to get his own poop in a group.

  Tonight, fortunately, due to his exhaustion, sleep wasn’t long in coming.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Eric was too busy packing and moving over the next several days to think about Tracey or their interlude in Laguna Beach.

  He’d left the urn and pictures out on the counter his last night in the apartment, unable to bear packing them away yet. Tomorrow, he’d finish loading the truck.

  The urn and pictures, and Paige’s collar, would be carefully tucked into a well-padded box and ride in the cab of the moving truck with him. He’d tow his car on a hauler behind the truck. Carter had already coordinated with the guy who’d be Eric’s new boss, and the company had reserved him a room at one of those long-stay efficiency apartment hotels for four weeks. They’d pay for longer if he didn’t have a permanent place by then, plus there were other moving expenses and payments they’d give him, but for now, Eric wanted to get on the road.

  His new life in Florida.

  He could see why the attraction of starting over in a new state had held such a pull for Tracey back then. He’d done a little research about the new area he’d be living and working in, and it wasn’t bad. Similar in some ways to California, although more humid and with more rainfall.

  Far cheaper to live there than in New Jersey, that was for damn sure. He thought he was doing something wrong at first when he priced out apartments. He could rent a damn house in Florida for what he was paying for a one-one apartment now.

  Hell, he could buy a house, if he wanted.

  Depending on where Tracey lived in the state—if they even hooked up—he might not be more than a six-hour drive from her.

  That was doable.

  Unless she didn’t want to see him again.

  He hoped that wasn’t the issue. Except…

  Well, she’d said she’d call, then she hadn’t.

  He knew he could call JJ, but JJ was back on the oil rig and busy working, and he was busy moving.

  It can wait.

  He had a job awaiting him, a new life. He needed to point his entire focus at that and not let depression creep back in like it had before.

  Because it would, if he let it.

  Boy, would it.

  Before reconnecting with Tracey, he’d known in the back of his head that he should probably start seeing a counselor about it again, but…he hadn’t h
ad the energy. Or desire.

  And, for a long time, he hadn’t had the money.

  So his life had devolved into a very short, repetitive routine.

  Get up, go to work, go home.

  Sleep.

  Repeat.

  Now, he knew he needed to do more than that. Tracey had been the first person he’d really talked to about Paige in a couple of years. Hearing himself talk, he recognized there was something wrong inside him beyond normal grief.

  Like maybe he’d given up.

  Despite still feeling guilty, he knew Paige wouldn’t want him to spend the rest of his life moping and alone. Just like had their positions been reversed, he would have wanted her to move on and be happy.

  I’ll get settled in my new job and find a new GP and counselor and start working on me again.

  Hell, maybe the change of location and job would be enough to shake him out of this and medication wouldn’t even be necessary.

  The drive took him two days, and his reservation awaited him when he pulled the moving truck into the hotel’s parking lot late that night, exhausted and wanting nothing more than to collapse. He spent the next day unloading the truck into the storage unit he rented at the same facility where he was returning the truck.

  That night, he lay in the hotel bed and sipped a beer as he stared at the pictures and the urn sitting on the hotel dresser. The room had a small kitchenette, so he could cook and not eat out all the time.

  Wasn’t a bad place. About twenty minutes from work. Hell, if he wanted to rent it permanently, the rent on the place month to month wasn’t as much as he was paying a month in New Jersey for his apartment, and he didn’t have to worry about utilities.

  He could…not commit.

  That’s the kind of thinking you’re trying to get yourself out of, buddy.

  True.

  There was that.

  Tomorrow, he was scheduled to go to the store and meet with his new boss. Carter had told him the guy seemed nice enough and was looking forward to meeting him. Eric had talked to the man on the phone a couple of times, and nothing he’d heard made him doubt that assessment.

  Eric was also looking forward to filling his days with exhausting work so he’d sleep like the dead every night.

  * * * *

  Eric opted for jeans, sneakers, and his collared, short-sleeved pullover shirt with the company logo on the left chest. He’d helped set up a new store the year before and knew that this part of the process was usually hands-on, dirty, sweaty work. They wouldn’t start stocking product until all the racks and other display cases were in place and set up. Then truck after truck would arrive, meaning setting planograms, doing truck counts, and then getting ready for a final inventory before opening.

  In addition to that, he had crew to interview and hire, starting with assistant managers and other team leaders who’d requested transfers from other stores in the region. With their help, they’d interview, hire, and train the cashiers, warehouse help, and other crew needed to staff their store, along with help from experienced team members from other stores who’d come in to assist with that process.

  Their goal was to be open in eight weeks, and Eric had silently set a benchmark in his mind of trying to cut at least a week off of that for their soft open.

  He drove to the store and arrived a little after seven thirty, which was early, and on purpose. He wanted a chance to look over the site before his new boss arrived at eight, and he wanted to show he was punctual and get off on the right foot with the guy. The construction crew was there and pointed him to the site manager, who was happy to quickly show him around so he could orient himself. They were finishing up interior electrical and plumbing now, with a final inspection slated for two days from now.

  Then set-up would begin, the construction crew handing things over to the set-up team, who’d coordinate with Eric and his district manager.

  Once he’d familiarized himself with the store’s layout—and it was even larger than the huge store he’d worked at in New Jersey—he made his way to the front again. Without storage racks and product, the building felt absolutely cavernous and echoed with sounds from the workers inside.

  A man in a shirt just like Eric’s walked in, a laptop bag slung over his shoulder, and Eric knew.

  Eric walked over. The guy had blue eyes and brown hair, and was maybe an inch taller than his own six one. “Brandon?”

  He stuck his hand out. “Eric?”

  They shook. “Yeah, nice to meet you.”

  “Welcome to Florida. You get settled in okay?”

  “Yeah, thanks for the recommendation.”

  “No problem. My husband stayed there for a few weeks when he moved down from Iowa. And if you need referrals for a real estate agent, we know a couple we trust.”

  “I’ll deal with that in a few weeks. Right now, I want to get through set-up…”

  * * * *

  By the time Eric returned to his temporary home late that evening, he felt exhausted, but satisfied. He could already tell he’d enjoy working with Brandon, and he’d met some of the people who’d be on his core management team. Three of the assistant managers were already in place, and it was like Brandon had psychic skills or something in picking good people.

  When the management could work well together, it usually trickled down into the rest of the staff and helped everyone get along better. It also made it easier to deal with employees who turned out to be problem children, because they didn’t drag the entire crew’s morale down with them in the process.

  He stood in the shower and let the hot water beat on his sore muscles. Between moving and today, he had gotten more of a workout than he had in years, and every muscle in his forty-two-year-old body felt it, too.

  At least this felt…right. Like it’d been the smart move. He’d probably end up getting a house, based on prices locally, but he had the freedom to breathe right now without making that decision.

  Getting the store up and running was his first priority. Brandon had already assured Eric if he needed more time in the hotel he would authorize the expense.

  When he emerged from the shower, he opened the fridge and started to reach for a beer before hesitating.

  Do I really want it?

  Maybe that was something else. Maybe he’d been drinking a little too much at night. Not to an alcoholic amount, but maybe it’d be better to stop for a while.

  It’d be too easy to drink one or two and let the buzz waft through his brain while he stared at the urn.

  To mentally flagellate himself.

  Now he had no excuses, no distractions. He wasn’t a husband.

  Wasn’t a father.

  All he had was his career, and if he wanted to be able to provide for himself come retirement age, maybe he’d damn well better get off his ass and work toward that goal.

  Especially considering that, unless he connected with Tracey again, it was the only goal he currently had.

  * * * *

  “That is a beautiful sight,” Brandon said.

  “A-freaking-men,” Eric echoed.

  They were staring at the meat department’s display counters and coolers, which had just been installed. Tomorrow, the new meat department manager would come in and go through all the equipment that had been delivered, work with his team to start setting up equipment, and then by the end of next week they’d start sanitizing and cleaning everything in preparation for the first meat delivery.

  Four weeks since Eric’s arrival in Florida, and the store’s set-up was already ahead of schedule. Half of the massive racks were installed, and later this week their check-out stands were scheduled to be delivered and installed, along with their CS desk and office systems.

  It was coming together.

  “So what are you doing tonight?” Brandon asked.

  “Home and dinner. Oh, sorry, I haven’t had time to find a place yet. I need to stay at the hotel a while longer.” He’d been working seven-day weeks, despite Brandon trying to talk him
into taking a day off here and there.

  “I already put in the paperwork to pay another four weeks, don’t worry.”

  “Thanks.” Eric couldn’t deny feeling more than a twinge of pride that this new store was his. A shiny, new toy that no one else had played with before him.

  It felt…well, it felt good, he wouldn’t deny it. He took it all in, not necessarily feeling happy, exactly, but feeling…satisfied.

  It was a good feeling.

  It helped keep some of the mental cobwebs cleared out of his soul.

  For now, at least.

  He knew once life settled down that they’d return.

  They always returned.

  When they did, he’d finally deal with them.

  This time, he’d make sure he dealt with them in a healthy way. One thing this whole experience had shown him—he couldn’t go back to what he’d been doing.

  “You’re welcome to come over to our place,” Brandon said. “My husbands are attempting barbecue with a little coaching from our bonus daughter.”

  Honestly? Eric wasn’t paying much attention to Brandon. He was too busy staring at his new meat department. “Sorry, I need to do laundry. I’ve been putting it off. But thanks for the invite. Maybe next week.”

  “No worries. You all right?”

  “Yeah.” He grinned and finally turned to face Brandon. “Sorry. It’s just I never thought I’d have a store of my own like this.”

  “It never gets old. I never had a new-new store when I was a store manager, but I’ve helped set up a few.”

  Satisfaction filled Eric. “I’m glad I chose this one.”

  Brandon patted him on the shoulder. “Me, too. Carter spoke very highly of you. I’m glad it’s worked out for all of us.”

  As they finished up for the night and got the building secured and locked, Eric was almost all the way back to the hotel when he realized he hadn’t spent much time thinking about Tracey today.

  Which was a first.

  Maybe I’m healing. Again.