Yours Since Yesterday

by Jennifer Bernard

  Instead, he peered south, toward the Last Chance. The pizza shop was closed, of course, but one light was still on. Someone must be cleaning up.

  Zoe?

  Instead of heading for the Eagle’s Nest, he lurched the opposite direction, toward the Last Chance. He might be shitfaced, but he hadn’t forgotten the stories Nate had told him about Zoe’s doomed love life. He’d put something together in his head about that. He had to tell her, and what better moment than while he was plastered?

  He crossed the road and loped down the empty boardwalk on the other side. The ocean to his left slumbered like a gray beast, heaving occasionally as a swell came through. The stench of a rotting sea creature—a washed-up jellyfish, maybe—made his nostrils twitch. Overhead, an enormous lone eagle perched on a lamppost and peered down at him over his sharply curved beak.

  Eagles didn’t generally fly at night; maybe this one was looking for one last snack before dark. Something in its posture and bearing made him think he was quite old.

  Crazy thought—had this eagle been around when Padric and Zoe were growing up? Eagles could live a long time, he knew. Twenty to thirty years.

  “Yo, eagle!” he said to the bird drunkenly. “Didn’t we used to know each other back in the day? Good to see you again, old friend.”

  The bird cocked his head, then returned its attention to the ocean.

  “So that’s how it is. Don’t you know I’m a superstar now?” Padric rolled his eyes at his own drunken boasting. “For what that’s worth.”

  A bit of liquid dropped from the bird and landed a few feet ahead of him. Great. An eagle just tried to poop on him.

  “I get the message. You did that on purpose, didn’t you?”

  The eagle studiously ignored him—either that, or he was tracking a source of food that Padric couldn’t see.

  “I’m going to put you in a song, just you wait and see. And it won’t be one of the patriotic ones.”

  The eagle unfurled its wings and lifted off from the lamppost in a powerful swoop that sent a cloud of dust Padric’s way.

  “Damn. I think that eagle got the last word.”

  “Are you arguing with the wildlife?” The sound of Zoe’s voice made him jump about a foot in the air.

  While he’d been occupied with the eagle, he’d reached the rear entry of the Last Chance. They kept an outdoor refrigeration unit back there, next to an enclosure to store their garbage bags until someone could make it to the dump.

  Zoe carried one garbage bag in each hand. A red kerchief held her hair away from her face, and an apron covered her curvy figure. A smudge of flour marked her cheek as her dark eyes sparkled with amusement.

  “Someone has to,” said Padric. He cocked his head, assessing his statement for accuracy. “I don’t know what that means.”

  “Are you coming from the Olde Salt?” She waved her hand on front of her nose. “I can smell the decades-old beer.”

  “You’re taking out garbage,” he pointed out.

  “I’d recognize Eau de Olde Salt with my eyes closed.” With a practiced motion, she heaved a garbage bag over the white slats of the enclosure. “Did you have fun?”

  “Fun” didn’t seem to be exactly the right word. “I heard some stuff. About you.”

  Her face changed, the amusement fading. “Oh.” She started to lift the other bag over the side, but he hurried to stop her.

  “Let me. It ain’t a fifty-pound backpack, if you know what I mean.”

  “I really don’t, but sure. Go ahead.” She stepped back and folded her arms across her chest as he flung the bag into the enclosure. “How drunk are you, anyway?”

  “Drunk enough to tell you something. About you.”

  Impatiently, she turned away from him. “You already apologized. There’s no need for anything more.”

  “No, not that. You think everyone rejects you, don’t you?”

  “What?”

  “All your bad luck. Your breakups. The lawsuit.”

  He noticed that every word made her wince.

  A gust of wind tumbled through the narrow gap between the pizza shop and the fish cleaning station. It blew her hair over her shoulders and made her shiver. She was scowling at him. “I’m freezing out here, and you’re listing all my most embarrassing moments. What is your point?”

  “You doubt yourself. And it all started with me. Am I right?”

  She blew out a breath, as if trying to hang on to her composure. “I don’t know. Maybe. I was easy to forget, so there’s that.”

  “No, you have it all wrong. All wrong. You know how I reached out to you? Do you know?”

  She shook her head, eyes wide, arms still crossed defensively.

  “I wrote songs. That’s how I dealt with it all. You, the Scandal, the move. Me missing you. It’s all there in my music. But you didn’t listen to any of it, did you?”

  Tugging her lush lower lip between her teeth, she shook her head. “No.”

  He shook his head, then stopped when the motion made him queasy. “You should have. You really should have. Shit. I need to lie down.”

  She shook herself to attention and briskly wiped her hands on her apron. “I’ll drive you back to your hotel. Sit tight. Oh, and Padric?”

  “Yeah?” He clutched his head, which felt as if it might split apart.

  “We should talk more about this when you’re not drunk. Like maybe, say, on the Larkspur Trail.”

  He gazed at her blankly for a moment, too plastered to put it together.

  “Our hike, remember? You wanted to try the Larkspur Trail again?”

  “Right. Our hike. Is that a yes?”

  “Yes, let’s do it.”

  “Now?”

  She laughed, then came forward to take his arm. The gesture was probably to keep him from falling, but it felt like more. “In a couple of days when you’ve slept it off.”

  “It won’t take a couple of days,” he grumbled. “I’m a rock star, I’m used to… Ah, who am I kidding. I never could handle more than a few drinks.”

  She led him to her car, an older model Subaru, and opened the passenger door for him. “I’ll finish closing up and be right there.”

  From the comfort of her passenger seat, he watched her hurry back into the pizza shop. She was so beautiful with her firm calves and rounded ass. And they were going hiking! They’d finally be alone together across the bay, the way they’d always dreamed about.

  An eagle—the same eagle, Padric recognized him by his size—landed on one of the garbage bags.

  “Guess I got the last word after all, dude,” he told him through the front windshield. “I have a date with Zoe. So there.”

  Chapter Ten

  “I’ll take you,” Megan Miller declared as soon as Zoe told her about the planned trip across the bay. “You need a chaperone. Rock stars can’t be trusted, everyone knows that.”

  “That’s a stereotype.” Zoe scoffed as she served up two slices of pizza to Megan and her daughter, Ruby. Megan had moved to Lost Harbor recently and, after a rocky start, had fallen madly in love with Lucas Holt. They made an adorable couple that actually made Zoe rethink her attitude towards men. Megan didn’t have the best luck in that area either, with a divorce under her belt. But she and her ex worked quite well as co-parents. It was rather inspiring, actually.

  Still, Megan’s bad luck didn’t begin to compare to Zoe’s. Zoe’s was epic. Legendary. And it had all started across the bay.

  “I knew Padric before his voice broke. Do you know there was a point in our friendship when I was six inches taller than him and thirty pounds heavier?”

  “Those days are long gone. I’ve caught a few glimpses of him.” Megan put up a hand to shield her mouth and whisper. “He’s hot.”

  Zoe felt color rise in her cheeks. She knew perfectly well how hot he was. The details kept her awake at night. That hard body, those confident hands, those dreamy eyes. He made her feel like one of his crazed female fans.

  “He’s an old fr
iend, and we’re simply rekindling our friendship. You don’t have to worry about a thing.”

  “I like his songs, but I don’t like his music,” Ruby declared through a bite of her pepperoni pizza.

  “How can you like one but not the other, you confusing child?” Megan asked her.

  “I like the words because they’re kind of like poems, but his music sounds like a seal who got caught in a net. Like crying.”

  Zoe hid a smile, grateful Padric wasn’t here to witness that blunt assessment of his art. “It’s a whole genre, kiddo. Wait until your first breakup, then you’ll be glad he wrote all those songs.”

  “I don’t know his music at all,” Megan confessed. “I got through my divorce with a lot of country songs.”

  “To be honest, I don’t either.” Zoe waved at a customer trying to catch her attention. “I was going to do a binge listen before the trip, but I haven’t had a chance.”

  Also, she was afraid of the effect his music would have on her. He was already easing back into her heart, whether he knew it or not—or wanted to or not. And she didn’t know what his intentions were. He didn’t live here anymore, and she would most likely always live here.

  “Changing the topic, did you send off your submission?”

  Megan was one of the few friends she’d told about the fellowship. “I finally did. Just last night.” She wasn’t sure what had finally inspired her to press “send,” but it had something to do with Padric. That thing he’d said about her doubting herself had really struck home.

  She knew why she was afraid of rejection in her personal life. But why should that transfer to her art? She’d never even tried to get rejected. Surely that was even worse than rejection—it was self-rejection.

  Clicking the “send” button had been so difficult. She’d actually closed her eyes and said a little prayer as she did it. Her heart fluttered every time she thought about her work—photos of it, anyway—flying out into the world on the wings of the Internet.

  “Congratulations, that’s awesome,” Megan was saying. “When will you hear?”

  “I have no idea. I’m not thinking about that part. The only way I can handle this is to pretend I sent the application into some kind of cosmic black hole.”

  “You’re a nut,” Megan scolded. “They’re going to love it. And if they don’t, someone else will.”

  Zoe smiled at her friend affectionately; she was always so supportive. She had other friends in Lost Harbor, of course, people she’d known all her life. But she would always be glad that she’d taken Megan under her wing when she’d first arrived and the other “harbor rats” had resented her

  At that point, she got busy with other customers and didn’t have time for more than a wave goodbye when Megan and Ruby left. Three hours to go.

  Yup she was counting down the hours to their hike. How pathetic was that?

  Padric texted. Three hours to departure.

  She laughed out loud. How about that? Still in sync after all these years.

  Megan just offered to take us in the Forget Me Not.

  No way. I rented that cabin cruiser and I want to use it. It’s a sweet ride, you’ll see.

  That’s fine. Should I bring snacks?

  I got this. Relax. You spend all your time feeding people, it’s my turn.

  Warm little thrills of happiness danced through her heart. Padric had always been the sweetest guy. And now he was so many other things besides sweet.

  Like hot.

  Megan definitely wasn’t the only one who had noticed that fact.

  Zoe got another dose of that reality when she met Padric at the float where his boat—called the Jaunty—was tied up. The engine was on, warming up, and he was swabbing off the deck with a bucket of water. He wore a soft checkered shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and each movement emphasized the corded muscles of his exposed forearms.

  She sighed to herself, remembering the days when she’d just started to notice Padric as a “cute boy.” When she’d glance over at him while they were studying and his wrist would catch her eye, or his bouncing knee under the table. Or his long eyelashes, so absurdly extravagant for a fisherman’s kid. Or the Adam’s apple popping up in his throat, or the new way that his chest filled out his clothes.

  Now he was full-grown, one hundred percent adult male, packed with dreamy sexual charisma. He probably kept it dialed back in everyday life. From that one tiny clip she’d watched on YouTube, he had plenty more he could unleash when he chose.

  He glanced up as she reached the Jaunty. Their eyes met, and a strange sensation traveled through her, as if a time shift had occurred, as if they’d always been looking at each other just like this, even when they were apart.

  She shook it off. “Hey, sailor, got room for one more?”

  “Come on in. The champagne is chilling.”

  Champagne? Was this some kind of rock-star seduction?

  “That’s funny, on our last trip all we had was orange soda and a gallon of water.”

  He reached out a hand to help her over the railing. “If you want to recreate that trip exactly, we have to get some of your mom’s baklava.”

  She held up her backpack in triumph. “Way ahead of you. I raided the freezer. She makes it in bulk.”

  “No way. Hand it over.” He snatched the pack from her and plunged his nose into it. “Oh my God,” he groaned. “That honey smell, it’s the best thing in the whole fucking world.”

  She laughed and stepped onboard the Jaunty. Should she tell him she hadn’t enjoyed baklava since their last hiking trip? “I’d pass that along to my mother but she already knows. Humility is not her thing.”

  Padric stowed her backpack in the little cabin, which was upholstered in the softest vinyl she’d ever touched. Two cushioned benches sat on either side of the cabin, along with a deluxe swivel chair for the pilot. Everything was so clean it sparkled—which meant that this boat had probably never seen a fish.

  “This is a lot different from the boat you grew up with,” she commented as she gazed around at the grunge-free interior. “I don’t see a single fish scale or bloodstain.”

  “It’s almost unnatural, isn’t it? I feel like I’m eating at my grandmother’s house with the best china. Like I have to sit up straight or I’ll get a ruler on my knuckles.”

  She snickered and settled onto the bench in a comfortable lounging position. “Guess I’m just a rule-breaker.”

  “I’m not complaining.”

  She caught his quick glance along the curve of her hip, to her legs. After a lot of debate, she’d dressed in a pair of athletic leggings that clung to her body. Now she was glad she’d opted for the sexiest of her mostly non-sexy hiking gear.

  Electricity throbbed between them and jolted her to her feet. “Want me to cast off?”

  “Sure.” He didn’t react to her obvious skittishness.

  She stepped out of the cabin and tried to collect herself. Face it—this situation made her a little nervous. What was the right way to act around an old friend who you’d kissed once and who had now grown into an international celebrity? Was there a guidebook for this?

  She lectured herself as she unwound the lines from the cleats and hopped back onboard. It’s just Padric. He’s just a person. I was there when he got his first pimple. I watched him pop it. Holding on to that slightly disgusting thought, she was finally able to relax as they cruised out of the harbor. If nothing else, it’s a day off, she reminded herself. A day off in the summer. With a handsome guy and a fancy boat. And champagne.

  A huge eagle perched on the rocks watched them as they passed the breakwater and the buoy that marked the harbor entrance. Zoe caught its golden eye for a moment. This particular eagle must be an older one, though it was hard to tell an eagle’s age once they grew into their adult plumage. As soon as they cleared the breakwater, it spread its wings and lifted into the air.

  Zoe wanted to fly, too.

  “How fast does this thing go?” she asked Padric.

>   “Let’s find out, shall we?”

  He opened up the throttle and the boat lurched forward like a panther trying to find its footing. They cut across the waves, skipping along the surface, barely touching the water. “Whoop,” Padric yelled out loud. “Now that’s what I’m talking about!”

  Zoe grabbed onto the dashboard with one hand, a grip bar with the other, and relaxed her knees. She too shrieked into the wind, spray spangling her face. “You’re crazy!” she yelled. “I love it!”

  They skimmed across a wave that a heavier boat would have had to cut through. Up on step, that was the phrase, the point at which a boat was barely held by gravity anymore, and simply skipped across the tops of the waves.

  Seabirds floated past, not at all disturbed by their headlong rush across the water. She spotted Arctic terns and cormorants, and the curious head of a sea otter. The wind blasting past them felt like life itself—brushing away every cobweb, every doubt and fear. This is now, it seemed to say. Everything is new. There’s only now.

  Padric was saying something, but she couldn’t make it out over the purr of the engine and the rush of the wind. Or maybe he was singing—yes, that was probably it. He was singing into the wind, or to the wind, or maybe back at the wind. You never knew with him.

  And in that moment, she realized that her old friend Padric and rock star Padric weren’t really so different. They both loved music and dreams and imagination.

  She was still smiling about that when they entered the more sheltered inlet on the other side of the strait. This inlet was one of the most-used entrances into Lost Souls Wilderness. It contained dozens if not hundreds of coves and pebble beaches, and a few actual sand beaches. Not that anyone would consider swimming there, except for the occasional daring young person. She and Padric had challenged each other to a swim during a school camping trip once. It had taken hours to warm up by the fire afterwards.

  Padric steered the boat past a narrow privately owned beach where a tire swing dangled from an overhanging branch.