Rush: The Riptide Series Book #1

by Brooke Page

  He met my glare, but didn’t say anything.

  Just as I was about to climb the steps to YaYa’s, Vance reached for my arm, pulling me to him. “I meant what I said.”

  His touch was less harsh, turning into a caress. I watched him swallow and take a long blink. “If you want to watch the sunset, I can send Colt to take you.”

  Confusion filled me. He wanted Colt to watch the sunset with me? Was this his odd way of saying he was never going to see me again? That he regretted ever sitting by me on the beach and infiltrating my brain? Talking about how fucked up my life was to a gorgeous stranger wasn’t exactly something I normally did.

  Narrowing my eyes, I challenged, “Why not send Tucker?”

  His green eyes hardened. “Tucker isn’t an option.”

  “You can’t say that.” I snorted. “You’re not the boss of me. If I want to go out on the beach with Tucker, I can. If I want to go out on the beach by myself, I will!”

  He stepped into my bubble, his lips dangerously close to mine. I melted, and I hated it. His mood was giving me whiplash, and the fact that I turned into putty from being so close to him irritated me.

  “There are hundreds of Tuckers on that beach at night. Is that really who you want to come across when you’re by yourself?” he whispered. His stare was harsh, but faded once our eyes met. “I think you know as much as I do what a drunk Tucker is capable of doing to a beautiful girl like you.”

  My eyes closed tightly, remembering all of the drunk men who’d taken advantage of my mother, terrified they’d come crashing into the closet I was told to hide in whenever they’d come over.

  Vance’s hand found my cheek again. “I don’t want to scare you, I’m just trying to make you realize what’s out there.”

  “Niña,” YaYa scolded from the top of the stairs. “Come inside. Now.”

  Backing away from Vance, I refused to look at him, then once I reached the top step, my eyes stayed to the ground, afraid to look at YaYa. I hated disappointing her. “Where’s Marcy?” she demanded.

  “She’s down at the beach. I can go get her if you’d like,” Vance offered.

  YaYa turned to me, waving a spatula as she spoke. “Lock the door behind me and don’t leave. I’ll be right back.” She meant business as she stomped down the steps. “Now, Niña!”

  I did as she asked, upset I’d left Marcy on the beach. Hopefully all her clothes would still be on by the time YaYa made her way down there. Walking to the front of the home, I opened the sliding door to the screened in porch. Creeping out, I eavesdropped on YaYa reaming out Vance.

  “Your father is destroying this town. Don’t you dare take down my family too!”

  “Your granddaughter is safe. Don’t worry.”

  “That means Lauren, too. I can’t imagine your intentions are any better than your fathers!”

  His father? I didn’t even think to ask about his dad. We only talked about how messed up our mothers were.

  “I have no intentions of hurting Lauren.” His voice almost sounded disgusted, and my stomach sank. He really wasn’t interested in me.

  “Stay away from them,” YaYa warned, beginning to trudge across the street. Vance followed her, and she yelled at him in Spanish.

  Taking a deep breath, I meandered back inside and to Marcy’s room, crawling to the top bunk. The blankets were soft and comforting, exactly what I needed after Vance’s rejection. From the little bit I’d heard from YaYa and him talking, it was probably a good thing he wasn’t interested in me. The slightly dangerous vibe that I got from him was true. YaYa had good intuition, and I believed her instincts.

  I needed to stay away from Vance Everret.

  Reaching for my phone in my back pocket, I scrolled to my text messages.

  Colby: The beach doesn’t fix everything.

  Debating, I finally texted him back.

  I’m sorry.

  Colby: Lo Lo….

  He always called me Lo Lo when he was frustrated. Biting the bullet, I swiped his number on my phone to call him. He answered on the first ring.

  “I’ve been worried about you,” he breathed in relief.

  I closed my eyes. “I know. I’m sorry I left without telling you. I just… needed to get away.”

  “Didn’t know you needed to get away from me.” I could feel the sadness in his voice. I hated making him upset.

  “You know that’s not why I left.”

  He sighed. “Sure feels like it. I ask you to move in with me and you disappear.”

  I ran my hand over my face. “You know I can’t leave my Mom.”

  He snorted. “Lo, you can’t take care of her forever. Besides, I live five miles from your house.”

  “She’ll freak out.”

  “What’s new? She’s hurting you. You don’t deserve to be treated that way anymore. You’re nineteen, you should have left over a year ago.”

  “It’s not that simple,” I croaked, emotion thick in my throat.

  Colby’s voice softened. “We don’t have to be romantic, Lo. You can stay in the spare room across from me. That way I can be there for you when you have nightmares.”

  A tear rolled down my cheek. I’d most likely have one tonight. Vance stirred memories inside of me from when I was younger. It always triggered them whenever I’d be reminded of those torturous times.

  “I wish I were there now,” he murmured. “I could hold you all night.”

  I reached for my pillow, hugging it close to my chest. “Thank you,” was all I could say. I wanted Colby, but at the same time, I didn’t want to take advantage of him. Taking care of me shouldn't be on his priority list. Especially when I wasn’t willing to be more than a friend to him.

  “I’ll drive up there now. I could probably catch a flight,” he said quickly. I heard a chair scratch against the floor anD I knew he was on his feet.

  “No, I’ll be fine. You can’t mess up your job, and I need to figure things out on my own.”

  He was hesitant, but finally spoke. “All right. If you need me Lauren, you call. I’d do anything for you.”

  More tears shed. “Thanks, Colby.”

  “I love you, Lo. Don’t ever forget that.”

  Sniffling, I nodded as though he could see me then hung up the phone.

  Why couldn’t I just forget my mother and run away with Colby? She didn’t deserve for me to take care of her, but at the same time, I felt like I owed her. She protected me from monsters in a messed-up way, and I couldn’t get passed that. My eyes had seen the horrible, but thankfully my body had stayed pure, and it was because of my mother that the demons never got to touch me.

  I knew Colby wanted more. The moment he got his manager position at the local small engine parts factory, he expressed how he could take care of me. His job was good, compared to what I’d grown up with. How could I run away with someone I wasn’t romantically in love with? Granted, we’d never really tried. He’d held me multiple times, we’d kissed heatedly, and it felt nice, but we never explored further than that. He was always a gentleman when I’d crawl into his bed with him.

  Anger fueled me. Why couldn’t Colby’s hands feel like Vance’s? How is it a complete stranger’s touch could make feelings arise inside of me that I’d fought off for so long? I’d seen the damage physical connection could do. My mother had slept with dozens of men for money and drugs, and that’s what I’d always associated sex with.

  Vance’s touches weren’t how I’d expected a man’s touch to feel. They were soft, they were gentle, they implied he wasn’t using my body as a payment plan.

  The skyline through the window caught my attention, the stars shining bright over the water. If only my purpose could be as simple as a star. Light up the galaxy for earth to gaze up at, giving a sense of hope with its twinkle.

  The front door opening followed by YaYa’s Spanish dissolved my daydream. “Grandma, don’t be so uptight,” Marcy sighed.

  “Marcy, you’ve known that boy for what, twenty minutes? Control yours
elf! Niños calientes!” YaYa scolded.

  Marcy skipped into her room, a bright smile on her flushed face. “I found my early summer fling.”

  I grinned. “He did seem pretty into you.” I left out that I saw her practically having sex with her clothes on, not that she’d be bothered by me walking in on her. It wouldn’t be the first time I’d seen Marcy being dominated by a male.

  “I didn’t get his number,” she sighed while stripping from her tank top and shorts. “YaYa yanked me from under him as fast as lightning.”

  An emptiness settled inside of me. I didn’t get Vance’s number either, not that he wanted to see me again. It must have been a sign. No numbers meant no more interactions. Good. YaYa didn’t like Vance, therefore neither should I.

  “Their surf shop! Colt told me where it was!” Marcy squealed.

  I frowned. “Maybe we shouldn’t get involved with them.”

  Marcy waved at me. “You may have lost interest in Vance, but Colt and I are heating up. His dick has to be huge!”

  I laughed. “Did you touch it?”

  “He was rubbing it against my clit overtop our clothes. Monstrous,” she sighed. “We have to go there tomorrow.”

  My brows pinched together. “Marcy, I don’t know.”

  “Please,” she begged, pouting her lips as she hung onto the edge of the bed.

  Sighing, I caved. “Fine.”

  “Yes!” Marcy exclaimed, diving into her bottom bunk.

  “What did you and Vance do?”

  “Nothing.”

  Her head tipped out from the bottom bunk, mentally urging me to look down at her.

  Rolling my eyes, I hung my head over the bed. “He’s not into me like that.”

  Marcy’s lip curled. “Colt said he doesn’t date, but he was surprised how close he was sitting next to you when we found you outside of the bar.”

  A flush crept up my neck.

  “He was going to kiss you! Wasn’t he? Oh, Lo, I’m so sorry! I knew we should have stayed in the bar longer!”

  I shook my head. “No, it wasn’t going to happen. We had multiple opportunities. Don’t worry about it.”

  After a beat, her head found her pillow again. “Maybe he just needs time. We’ll see how he reacts when we see him tomorrow.”

  My head found my own pillow. “Marcy, I don’t think YaYa would like that.”

  “YaYa doesn’t like any men. She hasn’t been with any since my Papa died.”

  Holding my hands over my head, I muffled, “Fine. Only because you want to see Colt.”

  Marcy giggled, then got cozy in her bed. Pulling off my own shorts and tossing them to the floor, I buried into my covers, falling asleep thinking about strong, calloused hands stroking my cheeks.

  Chapter Eight

  Lauren, Age 15

  “Lock yourself in the closet,” my mother urged, moving items from the kitchen counter and into the already loaded with dishes sink.

  I groaned. “Tonight? Mom, I have a final I need to study for.”

  “Bring a flashlight.”

  “Mom, it’s cramped in there. And I thought you said no light.”

  Her twitchy hand pulled a lighter from her purse, the flame catching the butt of the cigarette she held in her mouth. She took a long puff of her cigarette then blew it out of her nose. “Lauren, don’t make this difficult. Get your earbuds and Discman. There should be a flashlight under the cupboard in the bathroom.”

  I hadn’t even made dinner yet. My stomach was rumbling.

  “Now, Lo!” Mom shouted, taking another long drag from her cigarette. Her blonde hair was thin and poking out of her ponytail. She had on a white tank top, no bra, and her black leather skirt. I knew what that meant. Rent wasn’t due for another two weeks, but by how she was fidgety, I guessed she needed money for something else.

  “You don’t have to do this.The counselor at my school-”

  Her eyes bugged out more than normal on her thin face. She looked twenty years older than she actually was. “What did I tell you about talking to that counselor? You know she only wants to take you from me! Is that what you want? To leave me here all by myself and put you in some foster care center with some sicko foster dad?”

  That had been my mother’s childhood. Moving from home to home, seventy percent of the men in the houses had abused her in some way.

  My eyes found the stained laminate floor. I’d seen what men like that had done to my mother through the crack in the closet door. I didn’t want anyone to touch me like that.

  “That’s what I thought. Go get the flashlight and get in the closet.” she ordered through gritted teeth.

  Snatching my books from the card table, I crossed the kitchen covered in faded mint wallpaper and into the living room with shaggy orange carpet where my mother slept. She gave me the tiny bedroom, but we shared a closet between the two spaces. The bathroom was just off the kitchen. We literally lived in a box, and I hated it. Tossing my books into the cramped space, I moved toward the bathroom to grab the flashlight underneath the sink. The pipes were rusty from a slow leak, dripping on an empty bottle of toilet cleaner.

  Taking out the flashlight, I tapped it a few times, but the light didn’t flicker on. Of course, the batteries were dead. I’d get a fresh pair if we had any in the junk drawer and grab some crackers before I headed to the musty closet.

  “Mom, where are batteries-”

  I stopped in the kitchen, seeing a man standing in the frame of the front door. My mother was leaning on the wall, her skirt hiked up shorter than normal. A sickness filled my stomach.

  Backtracking as quietly as I could, I made my way into the closet. No studying for me tonight. Finding the closet, I ducked inside, lodging the door closed.

  Sitting on top of dusty coats and leaning against the vacuum cleaner in the dark closet, I decided to ditch my Discman, using the batteries to fill the flashlight. Studying was more important to me than listening to the same 80’s rock CD my mother insisted I learned to love.

  Finally getting the batteries in, I wished I made a different decision. The noises coming from the other side of the door made me want to gag more than the musty smell in this closet. The man in the doorway must have liked screaming, because my mother was doing plenty of it.

  My chest tightened more than it normally did in this stupid closet. Hearing her heavy breathing turn into moans, then her screaming ouch, made me want to vomit. I knew by the time of the month who she had called. He was the one who paid her the most, because she was willing to let him do anything and everything to her.

  Keeping the earbuds buried into my ears, I willed myself to hear the crappy music the Discman had been playing earlier, then attempted to focus on my history book. If I aced this test, I’d qualify for the AP program, and could stay after school for an extra hour every day for an extended class. It was important to me, but the rattling of the floors and brittle walls, followed by grunts and groans from what that man was doing to my mother only made my anxiety rise.

  I was hyperventilating now, covering my mouth like Colby told me to do whenever I’d get upset. “Focus on breathing, try to block everything out, Lo,” he told me the last time I’d snuck into his house. My chest heaved as I fought the small space for air. What I wouldn’t give for an open window and the cool fall air to infiltrate my lungs.

  After what felt like forever, the horrendous sounds stopped, and I felt like I could breathe again, until the door creaked open.

  It was my mother. She offered me a smile. I studied her, holding back tears from her appearance. Her face was bruised and swollen, fresh blood marks spread across her cheek. Her eyes were hazy, so I knew she didn’t feel any pain. The man masked it with the drugs, leaving a pile of money on the kitchen counter along with a baggy of her favorite narcotics.

  “Go ahead to bed, Lauren. I’ll take us to breakfast in the morning.”

  I stood up, wiping my eyes and darting to my room. Of course, she wouldn’t remember in the morning, because she’
d either be high as a kite or drunk when I would be getting ready for school. She rarely was awake and moving that early. I’d have to rest a frozen package of peas on her face once she passed out.

  I couldn’t focus on my school work anymore. It was 1:00 in the morning, and I was emotionally exhausted. Images of my mother being beaten caused the bile in my stomach to rise, dry heaving my empty stomach into a plastic bag on the floor.

  I buried my face into my pillow, attempting to drown out my shrieks of fear. Then I jumped, hearing the door to my window slide open. It stuck halfway, the body on the other side fiddling until it cracked open all the way. I curled into the fetal position, terrified it was the man coming back for seconds.

  “Hey, I couldn’t sleep,” Colby whispered.

  I covered the sob from hurling through my mouth.

  “Jesus, Lo, are you okay?”

  I cried harder. “You can’t just come through my window at all hours of the night!”

  Colby frowned, his eyes furrowing apologetically. “I’m sorry. I saw the truck in your driveway when I rode by on my bike earlier. I’ve been waiting for him to leave.”

  I shook my head. “You shouldn’t do that to your Aunt and Uncle.”

  Colby sat on my bed. “They think I’m staying at a friend’s house. Told them my mom normally let me do that.”

  I hiccuped, wanting to scold him for using his mother’s death to play his Aunt and Uncle.

  Keeping his distance, Colby knew how to handle me when I was so worked up over my mother’s attempts to get extra money.

  “Remember when we were at YaYa’s and we tried to catch seagulls on the beach?”

  I nodded my head, closing my eyes and recalling the ridiculous memory.

  “I thought they were going to eat you alive. Those birds could smell French fries from a mile away.” He smiled. “I think it would have worked if we could have hidden the smell. Do you remember what happened to me?”

  Sniffling, I nodded. “They attacked you. You yelled for Marcy to call 911.” I let out a snort, the smallest of smile cracking on my mouth.

  Colby tried to contain his grin by biting his bottom lip.