Anchored_Book One of The Crashing Tides Duet
Page 1
ANCHORED
BOOK ONE OF THE CRASHING TIDES DUET
Ruby Rowe
Copyright © 2018 Ruby Rowe Books
Cover Art by Just write. Creations
Edited by Nikki Cherniak
All Rights Reserved. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.
ISBN-13: 978-1986240796
ISBN-10: 1986240797
CONTENTS
NOTES
DEDICATION
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
EPILOGUE
END NOTES
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
NOTES
Anchored (Book One of The Crashing Tides Duet) is told from the points of view of Sailor, Jake and Elliott.
This novel contains explicit language and graphic sex, including one MFM ménage scene.
DEDICATION
How unfortunate and boring life would be if every love followed the norm...
This novel is dedicated to those who agree.
CHAPTER ONE
Sailor
Hearing the tapping on my bedroom door, I sit up at the side of my bed.
“Can I come in?” Elliott, my sister’s boyfriend, asks.
“Um, sure.”
As if ducking away from someone, he steps in fast and shuts the door behind him. Leaning his head back against it, he exhales a long breath, and I watch his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows. He’s staring at me like he has so much to say but doesn’t know where to begin.
Elliott’s never been inside my room at our country home in Southampton. He’s stood at the doorway many times, but never has he crossed the threshold.
It was usually when Rebecca and I were fighting over an outfit I took from her room without permission, or when she was telling me I couldn’t go to a party with them.
Elliott would be behind her at the door, insisting she let me tag along. Fights with my older sister were always over stupid shit like that. God, as much as she drove me nuts, I wish she were still here–alive.
Nervously, I attempt to smooth out the wrinkles in my dark skirt from where I’ve been lying on my bed. I mess with my jet-black hair, too, before I fist my comforter and steal another glimpse of him.
I should say something–no, he should. He’s the one who came into my room. Maybe he’s simply searching for a place to escape from the slew of people downstairs who are here for the reception.
It’s not the wedding bells, pre-divorce kind of gathering. It’s the post-funeral type where the guests speak comforting words, which are useless since there’s nothing they could ever say to ease the unbearable grief pressing on my chest.
My train of thought is broken when Elliott strolls over and sits next to me on my queen-size bed. He sets his suit jacket on the other side of him, and I resist the urge to scoot away.
For some reason, I feel like I should, but I don’t want to. He might be the only person who understands what I’m going through today.
I mean, he is Rebecca’s boyfriend. I guess I should say he was her boyfriend before she died four days ago. Elliott’s eighteen, which makes him three years and a couple of months older than me.
“Why are you hiding in here?” he asks.
“I can’t handle everyone staring at me.”
“Yeah, they’re staring at me, too. Actually, most of them are glaring.” From the corner of my eye, I see him turn his head to look at me, and never have I felt this degree of attention from Elliott. “Why did you do it, Sailor? It’s not too late to take it back. I promise you … I’d understand.”
My body trembles as I find the courage to stare into his deep-set eyes. The blue halos surrounding his grey irises are vivid today, likely from the tears he shed during the funeral.
“I did it for you.”
Furrowing his brow, he slides a hand through the top of his short blond hair and grips it.
“OK, but why?”
“I did it to protect you.” My gaze flits to my blue comforter beneath us, and I pick at a stray thread. “You know, from your dad.”
“I could’ve handled my father.”
“Says the guy with a black eye and busted lip.” I glance up at his handsome face that’s been battered one too many times by his violent father. His nose is crooked, and I know why.
“You didn’t get those injuries during the accident like everyone believes. You got them after Rebecca died, so tell me how you’d be here today, in one piece, if I hadn’t done what I did.”
“I’m not worth it. Take it back, and tell the truth.”
“Never. You have everything to lose, whereas I have nothing now to make the truth worth it.”
“You have your whole life ahead of you, Sailor. Don’t let your sister’s death define that path.”
“Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“What did Rebecca do the other night to upset you so much?”
Elliott’s body tenses, my words splitting his fresh wound wide open. The seeping pain from him is palpable to the point a shiver travels over me.
He’s holding his breath. One, two, three… Resurrecting between us is a wall of ice, and I regret my question.
Determined to crush through the frigid barrier, I grab his hand and entwine our fingers. He exhales, and I notice I’ve been holding my breath, too.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.”
“You have every right to know, but I can’t relive it. All I will say is she shattered my fucking heart.”
Tears prick the corners of my already swollen eyes, so I bow my head. I can’t let him see me cry because I don’t want him to tell anyone the truth about the night Rebecca died, and if the guilt gets to him enough, he may.
While listening to the faint sounds of footsteps and chatter below us, I stare at the way his thumb skims over my hand, back and forth … back and forth.
My stomach feels funny, and I wonder if he’s absentmindedly touching me this way or choosing to.
A few minutes pass before Elliott releases my fingers and messes with his suit jacket beside him. He holds out a small, square box.
“Happy fifteenth birthday, Sailor Girl.”
Smiling for the first time since my sister�
�s death, I take it from his hand and untie the blue ribbon around it. I open the lid, and inside is a necklace with a silver anchor pendant hanging from it.
“Thank you, it’s beautiful. Why an anchor?”
He shrugs. “It reminded me of your name and the way you love the ocean. Turn around, and I’ll put it on you.” Handing it back to him, I twist my body and face my headboard.
He loops it around my neck, and noticing how my long hair tangles in it, I lift it up to make it easier for him. As he clasps the necklace, his fingers brush along my skin, and the tiny hairs on my arms stand up.
I’m scum. I imagine scouring my arms with those rough pads our housekeeper uses to wash dishes. It’s what I deserve since I’m thinking about my sister’s boyfriend in a way I shouldn’t, especially when Rebecca’s dead.
I’ve had a crush on Elliott for at least two years. I remember realizing it on my thirteenth birthday when he gave me his team t-shirt.
He was the star quarterback, and I’d never managed to catch a shirt at the games when the players would toss them into the crowd.
Although I could’ve bought one, the fact he thought to give it to me meant a lot. After the way he smiled and hugged me, I knew I liked him even if it was wrong.
I remember Rebecca rolling her eyes at his gesture. My sister was a spoiled bitch, and she treated Elliott like shit, but now she’s gone, and I feel like a piece of shit for thinking about her that way.
And I’m not talking about the kind of shit you step in when a dog takes a crap in the yard. I’m talking about the crap in porta potties. Yeah, I’m human shit that other people shit on and flies swarm around. That’s me today.
He clutches my shoulders and pulls on them, signaling for me to turn back to face him. Shifting around, I run my fingers over the silver anchor while smiling at him. He’s likely the only person who’ll remember my birthday today.
“It looks good on you.” Still holding my shoulders, he leans over and kisses my forehead, and my stomach feels as if it’s flipping around like a fish out of water. “Thank you for the sacrifice you made for me. I’ll never forget it.”
He stands from the bed and picks up his suit jacket. I admire his towering height before he turns to face me. “There’s another reason I gave you that necklace, and maybe someday, I’ll get the chance to tell you.”
“What do you mean by someday?”
His gaze averts to my plush white carpet.
“I don’t plan on returning to the city or the Hamptons.”
“Not ever?” I ask anxiously.
“I’m sorry, but I can’t.”
I stand. “So, that’s it? After everything, you’re going to leave and never come back?”
“Please don’t make this harder on me. I can’t take seeing my father another day, and I can’t stomach being around the friends Rebecca and I shared. Not after what happened to her. Today’s proof of that, so I’m leaving for college early.”
How can I argue with him for wanting to leave? I’ve been on the receiving end of those looks today, too: sideways glances of disgust, gazes of pity and the freeze out from Rebecca’s friends.
“Please at least talk to me soon,” I murmur. At the same time, I think we both swallow the knots that have filled our throats. Without a last look or smile, he walks to the door and grabs the knob.
“Elliott, wait.” He doesn’t turn back, and I don’t want him to. The tears are falling … tumbling now, and I’m holding in a sob that’s ready to burst from the seams. “I’ll miss you.”
“I’ll miss you, too, my Sailor Girl.”
CHAPTER TWO
Ten Years Later
Jake
“Wait–don’t leave,” I say to, uh, what’s her name again? Vivian? I adjust my dick in the boxer briefs I yanked on before I followed the crazy blonde from my bedroom. “I’m sorry. I swear, I’m usually a better host in the mornings.”
She spins around, and I almost run into her scowling face.
“Oh, do you mean you’re a better host once I use my drool to suck your cock?” Her Brooklyn accent is coming out and swinging thick.
“Damn, when you put it that way, it sounds bad.”
“No shit. I’d tell you never to call me again, but I know you didn’t plan on it in the first place.”
I point at her. “In my defense, you begged to come home with me.”
“Only after you fed me cocktails to ensure I would.”
“Please, you slurped those drinks down all on your own, and you were praying I’d fuck your brains out.”
Crossing her arms, she smugly raises her eyebrows. They give away her fake blond hair, but I already knew the carpet didn’t match the drapes. I found that out last night before she lost her damn mind.
“You’re right, and you obviously failed, seeing how I’m still smart enough this morning to tell you to go fuck yourself!” With her chin held high, she turns and stomps out the door.
“Damn,” Elliott says from behind me. It’s too early for his shit. “I’m going to rank that chick in your top five fails. I’d say she’s number four, right above the girl you squirted ketchup on instead of chocolate syrup.”
Turning to face him, I roll my eyes.
“We’ve been over this. I was trashed, and we hadn’t fixed the light inside the refrigerator. Besides, those bottles were shaped the same, and if she hadn’t been a bitch before I squirted it all over her tits, she would’ve found it humorous.”
“What sent this one running?” Elliott shoves some paperwork into his black duffle bag propped on the arm of the couch.
He’s wearing his scrubs, which means I’ll have the house to myself for a few days. At least I have that going for me.
“I woke up to a puddle of drool on my chest, so I woke her ass up and told her I had something lower she could drool on.”
“You’re a fucking moron.”
“The down-to-earth chicks, who don’t have sticks shoved up their asses, find my remarks funny.”
“I’ll be at the hospital the next three days.”
“Why don’t you come home and sleep in your own bed between your long shifts?”
“It’s not worth the hassle of traveling back and forth on the train.”
Sliding my fingers through my dark hair, I sigh.
“You know, it doesn’t matter how many hours you put into your residency, you won’t be able to save everyone.”
He gives me a look of warning for even broaching the sore subject.
“I’ll see you in a few days.”
Once Elliott leaves, I trudge to my bathroom that’s off my bedroom. It’s only six-thirty in the morning, and what was I thinking waking that chick up over a glob of drool?
After taking a piss, I fall on my bed, on my stomach, but the second I wrap my arms around the pillow, my phone rings.
“Fuck.” Leaning over the bed, I handle my jeans on the floor until I find the pocket with my cell inside it.
“Jake here, and this better be life or death.”
“Why do you try to guilt me before I even ask for help?” my brother-in-law, Brad, asks.
“Life or death. I really mean it this time.”
“I need you to pick Maddie up from school.”
I groan, but he knows as well as I do that I’ll say yes.
“All right.”
“Thanks. I’ll text you the info of her new school. I put you on the list of people who can pick Madeline up, and I’ll email her teacher to let her know. Uh, could you keep her all night and take her to school in the morning, too?”
“You’re killing me.” I groan again. “Unless there’s a homicide, I’m off until Monday, and it’s not my weekend to keep Maddie, so don’t try to stick me with her tomorrow night, too.”
“I won’t. Just tonight.”
I’m silent as a thought comes to mind.
“Are you there?” he asks.
“Yeah. You’re not… I mean, are you working late or something?”
“Jake
, I’m not seeing someone if that’s what you’re wondering.”
“I’ll admit, the thought crossed my mind.”
“I knew all along what your sister was doi—”
“Shut it. Don’t say another word. You know you can’t tell me shit about the situation. My reputation as a detective has suffered enough just having my sister get locked up for embezzlement. I don’t need to lose my career on top of it.”
“OK, all I was trying to say is I can’t hold this against her. I love Marcy, and I wouldn’t cheat on her.”
“Please, forget I brought it up. Look, I want to get some sleep before I have Maddie to chase after.”
“All right. Shoot me a text once you pick her up.”
“No problem.”
“Oh, and no sugar in the morning.”
“What was that? The line–you’re breaking up.”
Ending the call, I toss my phone on the floor. Damn, I better rest up before it’s Maddie Mayhem in this place.
Sailor
“Class, when the bell rings, put your folders in your backpacks,” I announce loudly to my new kindergarten class. “Also, make sure to take home everything in your cubbies.”
The last bell rings, and my new batch of kindergartners dart from their chairs and head to their cubbies, where they retrieve their adorable, small backpacks.
I love the first week of a new academic year. All I see is innocence and the funny entertainment my students bring to the classroom.
I’ve yet to learn which ones have severely dysfunctional home lives or which kids will pick their boogers before eating them or smearing them on their desks. Maybe this year, I won’t experience burnout or find the need to scrape green goo off the furniture.
“Line up at the door, please,” I say.
Some of the children stay at an after-school program, some ride buses, and the rest are picked up by car, so I’m always stressed out the first couple of weeks, worried one will end up in the wrong place. The last thing I need is for a car-rider on the Lower East Side to end up in Chinatown.