Never With You (The Never Series Book 6)

by Anie Michaels

  “Thank you for inviting me. I had a great time.” I said the words and then resisted the urge to roll my eyes at myself. I sounded incredibly lame. Of course, though, Briggs was sweet and didn’t make me feel more like an idiot.

  “I had a great time too. Feel free to stop by whenever. You know, if you need a break from your family.”

  “Thanks.” I knew in the days following, many times, I’d think about Briggs and imagine him over in his house working away. But I also knew I wouldn’t go back. Chris had done a great job of making me feel as though I couldn’t tell when a man was lying to me, and I didn’t want to bother Briggs by showing up when he’d only told me I was welcome to be polite. But part of me wished I could spend my days helping him and watching him work.

  It surprised me when he pulled up to my rental instead of his own house.

  “Thanks for the ride and the distraction,” I said, unbuckling my seatbelt.

  “Anytime,” he said with another smile I thought might be genuine, but wouldn’t let myself hope for it. I tried to hop down from the truck as gracefully as I could, closed the door, and made my way to the house, all the while fighting the immense urge to look back at Briggs. I closed the front door behind me, the noise of Angela talking and babies crying not enough to drown out the sounds of his truck backing out of the gravel drive and then fading away.

  “Did you have fun?” my mother asked, coming down the stairs.

  “Yeah.” For some reason, I felt as though I was stuck right where I stood. I didn’t want to move forward and away from the wonderful afternoon with Briggs, didn’t want to let it go.

  “That’s nice, sweetheart,” she said as she passed me, giving my shoulder a gentle squeeze as she did.

  “Oh, good, you’re back,” Angela said from the living room, staring at me with a baby on her hip. The blue onesie told me it was Beckett. “I was worried you’d never return.” Her eyes drilled into me and I understood why; she wanted me here to help my parents with the babies.

  “Don’t worry. I’m here.” Forcing myself farther into the house, I draped my denim jacket over a chair, let out a large sigh, and reached for the baby. “Hello, Master Beckett. How’ve you been today?” He answered with a gurgle and a yank on my nose. “That good, huh?”

  I spent the rest of the afternoon and evening playing with babies. And while it wasn’t a horrible way to spend my time, my mind wandered often to the house next door and the man who lived there.

  Chapter Six

  Talia

  The night passed easily and quickly; taking care of two babies made time fly. While I still thought my parents would have been fine on their own, I did enjoy my time with them and the twins.

  It was late and I couldn’t sleep, my mind anything but restful. I’d opened the window, hoping the sound of the waves would lull me to sleep, but I still just lay there listening to the ocean.

  Finally, I decided if I wasn’t going to sleep, I was at least going to enjoy being close to the ocean. I pulled on some jeans and a hoodie and tiptoed downstairs. I slipped on my flip-flops and quietly let myself out the backdoor.

  It was a beautiful summer night on the Oregon coast. That meant there were no clouds and no lights, but millions of stars. So many stars it was almost overwhelming. The combination of the sight of the twinkling sky and the sound of the crashing waves, and I was immediately transported to my happy place.

  Nothing beat a night on the beach in Oregon.

  It was dark, pitch-black even, but I could see the white of the caps of the waves and hear the ocean getting closer and I walked through the sand that was now cool to the touch.

  As I neared the surf, the distinct smell of a campfire wafted over me and I looked up and down the beach until I spotted a fire with a single person sitting by it, directly down the beach from Briggs’s house. I stopped, wondering if I should ignore the person sitting by the fire, or if I should continue onward and see if it was Briggs, if he wanted any company.

  My curiosity propelled me forward and I headed in the direction of the fire.

  The closer I got, the more sure I became that it was him. The light from the flames lit up his frame, and even though I’d only known him a day, I found myself positive that I could identify his shape. My feet kept bringing me toward him and just as surely, I began to smile.

  He was terribly handsome, especially while sitting in front of a fire. He was sitting on a blanket, one knee drawn up and an elbow resting on top, the other leg folded and resting on the ground in front of him. I watched as he threw another log on the fire, silently excited that he planned to be out a while longer yet.

  He must have heard my feet in the sand because eventually his head turned toward me. I saw him squint, trying to see who was approaching, and I enjoyed all too much watching his expression change from curiosity to delight when he finally realized it was me.

  “What are you doing out here so late?” he asked, watching as I walked toward him, only stopping when I was a few feet away.

  “Couldn’t sleep. The ocean is too loud,” I said, throwing a thumb over my shoulder.

  “She is feisty sometimes.” He was quiet for a moment, but then he patted the blanket next to him and said, “Care to join me? I didn’t bring any marshmallows, but I do have this.” He reached into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out a flask.

  I warred with myself. I wanted to sit down next to him. Badly, in fact. But that was the very reason I kept telling myself I should just continue on my way. The wound from Chris was still raw and the more time I spent with Briggs, the more I liked him. The very last thing I needed was to get caught up in some feelings and get hurt again.

  “Come on,” he cajoled. “Don’t leave me out here all alone.”

  In the end, it wouldn’t be my notion of self-preservation that did me in. It would be Briggs telling me he needed me. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt like someone needed me.

  I walked behind him and took the spot on the blanket to his left. He moved so both his legs were stretched out in front of him, crossed at the ankles, and I mirrored his pose. I looked into the flames, watching them lick higher and higher as they ate away at the new log.

  “What are you doing out here at this time of night?” I asked after a few quiet but content moments.

  “Too loud in my house,” he replied softly, only barely hearing him over the crackling of the fire.

  “The ocean?”

  “The memories.”

  I didn’t really know how to respond, so I just gave him my silent company.

  “Here,” he said, holding his flask out to me.

  Taking it from him, I asked, “What’s in it?”

  “Jack.”

  I wrinkled my nose, hoping he couldn’t see. Regardless, I brought the flask to my mouth and took a dainty swig. I couldn’t hide the coughing that came afterward. And he couldn’t stifle his laughter.

  “Not a fan of whiskey?”

  “Not on its own,” I sputtered, handing the flask back to him and watching him take a much bigger drink than I had.

  “What are you a fan of?”

  “I’m a white wine kind of girl.”

  “Classy,” he said, not unkindly.

  “When I want to be.”

  “Tell me something you’ve never told anyone before.” His demand caught me off guard.

  “Really?”

  “Isn’t there a kind of anonymity in the dark? Out here with the ocean tide to carry away your secrets?” He turned to face me and even though it was obvious he was a little tipsy, he was being very honest.

  “Is that how you think the ocean works?”

  “Well, the ocean isn’t going to tell anyone. And neither will I.”

  I watched his face as he waited to hear what I would tell him. Whether I’d divulge a secret or brush off the entire idea. Something about the vulnerability I saw behind his eyes made me want to open up to him. Perhaps, I hoped, if I cracked myself open for him, he’d do the same for me. An
d I desperately wanted to see inside, to see the core of who he was, to know that part of him even if it was only a tiny piece of a much bigger man.

  Turning away from him, looking back out at the loud and soothing sea, I told Briggs something I hadn’t told anyone else.

  “When Chris and I first met, we were in ninth grade. It seemed like we were meant to be together. I was a cheerleader. He was a football player. We hung around with the same friends. We had the same classes. Everything in my fourteen-year-old world seemed to be pointing me in his direction. And it was wonderful. He was a great boyfriend.

  “When we decided to go to college together it was more of the same. The path was laid out for us already and there was no reason to roam, to explore. I spent so many years with him, following him, trailing along behind him, simply because I’d never thought to open my eyes and decide for myself if Chris, or the life we’d built together, was even something I wanted.”

  I took a deep breath, a little disappointed in myself for even having that particular story to tell, but eventually let it out because the pressure was building and I needed to release the words that were bubbling up inside of me.

  “It never occurred to me that he was roaming. I never expected him to explore outside our relationship. And now, even at this very moment, as I sit here with a complete stranger, I can only blame myself for what happened. Of course he would cheat on me—there is absolutely nothing about me that would entice him to stay. I am exactly the same person I was when we met. Just older. I never found myself. Hell, I never even looked for myself. I found him instead and I latched on like a lost puppy.”

  I exhaled, surprised at how much of my body deflated with my breath. My shoulders crumpled forward and my head sagged, as though my body had been held up by my truth.

  Briggs was quiet and I was afraid to look at him, to see in his face the disgust I felt for myself. Finally, after a few silent moments, he spoke.

  “That’s bullshit.”

  “Excuse me?” My head shot up and whipped in his direction.

  “Nope. Not buying it. I mean, I get that you believe everything you just said, but it’s bullshit. A real man doesn’t punish a woman by cheating on her. Even if you hadn’t found yourself,” he said as he used his hand to make air quotation marks. “He should have helped you, held your hand through it, found himself right along with you. And if that wasn’t what he wanted, then he should have ended the relationship. You aren’t the reason he cheated. He cheated because he’s an asshole.”

  Okay, I could kind of see his point. It would have been better if Chris had just broken up with me, but that didn’t really change how I felt about myself.

  “All right,” I said slowly, not oblivious to the new fire in his eyes, the new intensity I hadn’t seen before. “Regardless, the important part of what I said still remains true. I didn’t bother figuring out who I was outside of our relationship and so when he left me, he kind of took me with him. I have absolutely no idea who I am, what I’m doing, or why I’m important.”

  “Well,” he said before he took another drink from his flask. “If it’s any consolation, I don’t know any of that either.”

  I had to laugh. I’d just said, perhaps, the most devastating and important words of my adult life, and he wasn’t impressed.

  “The good news is,” he continued, “you’ve got the rest of your life to figure all that out.”

  “Yeah, I suppose.”

  We were both quiet for another moment, until Briggs took one more drink from his flask and then took a deep breath.

  “A few years ago, Cecily got pregnant. We hadn’t planned on it and were very surprised. I was surprised in a good way, but Cess, she wasn’t. She was upset. I gave her some time to get used to the idea, but she never did. Two weeks after we found out she came home and told me she’d had an abortion.”

  I couldn’t hold in the audible gasp that left me. Of all the things Briggs could have said to me, I never expected a secret so huge and devastating.

  “She cried and cried, and begged me not to tell anyone, but she’d gotten an abortion without even telling me. Not that she needed my permission, she had the right to do whatever she wanted, but she never even mentioned she was thinking about it.”

  “Oh, Briggs, I’m so sorry.” It was all I could think of to say, but it wasn’t nearly enough. “That doesn’t seem fair.”

  “My son or daughter would’ve been two by now,” he said after a few moments of quiet. “I wish I would have said more, spoken to her about it instead of letting her have so much time to think. I might have been able to convince her to keep it.” He drew both his knees up to his chest and wrapped his elbows around, clasping his hands together in front of him. “I could have a child right now.”

  I had so many angry words running through my mind, but I sensed he didn’t need my indignation. I could be furious, but it wouldn’t change anything or make him feel any better. So, instead, I asked him an uncomfortable question, but one I thought might ease the ache I imagined burned in his heart.

  “Would you have wanted a boy or a girl?” I didn’t look at him as I waited for his answer, but looked through the fire at the waves instead, trying to give him the time and space he needed.

  “A boy.”

  I let myself steal a glance at him and noticed the tiniest tug on the corner of his mouth—a grin.

  “I wanted a boy first so I could teach him to respect girls and treat them like they’re precious. Then I wanted a girl so I could teach her that even though a good boy will protect her, she was strong enough to take care of herself. I wanted to build that picture-perfect family.” He went quiet again and the small smile fell from his lips.

  “Did she ever explain why she did it?”

  “She said the timing wasn’t right. Her career was really taking off at that point. Her books were hitting the New York Times list and she was writing furiously. She said she didn’t want to jeopardize her career or lose momentum. Part of me thinks, though, she knew she wasn’t going to stay with me and didn’t want something tying us together for the next eighteen years.”

  “Well, she sounds like a prize,” I replied, heavy on the sarcasm. “We found ourselves some winners.”

  “You think we’re better off?” he asked sullenly, as though he really needed confirmation.

  “I hope so. I have to be. I was nothing with him. I need to be something, ya know?”

  He looked over at me and I met his gaze. “You’re selling yourself short, firecracker.”

  “Firecracker?” I asked with a laugh. My hand automatically came to my hair. Being a redhead earned me a lot of nicknames.

  “It’s not just the hair, although I admit that was the first thing that brought the name about. Well, your hair and that damn red bikini you were wearing the other day.”

  “Bikini?”

  “On the beach. I was surfing and you were sitting in a chair, reading, in that damned red bikini. You looked like a fucking firecracker. I nearly wiped out at least a dozen times trying to see you from my board, trying to catch a glimpse.”

  Holy shit.

  “You saw me?” I thought I’d been invisible that day. Or, at least, invisible to him.

  “I couldn’t see anything but you.” He held my gaze, nothing but the sounds of the firewood cracking and popping between us. “It’s more than the way you look,” he continued. “Sometimes you just ignite.”

  My breath snagged in my lungs and my heart tripped, pounding away to find the normal rhythm again. “If he didn’t see you, it wasn’t because you weren’t bright enough, Talia.”

  I couldn’t ever remember a time when someone had said anything as sweet as those words to me. I had no idea what to say in response, but my mouth opened and I was surely going to say something stupid, but there was a loud crack from the fire as something gave a small explosion. Nothing serious, but just enough volume and surprise to cause me to shriek and jump.

  “Jesus,” I said on an exasperated breath, b
ringing my hand to my chest, trying to slow my heart. Briggs laughed and the deep rumbly sound washed over me, just like it had earlier that day, making my entire body warmer.

  “I should probably walk you home,” he finally said.

  I didn’t want him to walk me home. I didn’t want to leave that beach or that sky or that man. I would have stayed out there with him until the sun came up and probably longer if he’d asked me. But instead of saying all that, I only whispered, “Okay.”

  I watched as he pushed sand into the fire, then kicked sand on top of it until the flames finally died, leaving us in complete darkness. Instinct had me looking at the sky to take in the stars one last time. There were even more than before, it seemed.

  “Sorry I unloaded everything on you tonight. I think I drank more Jack than I should have.” He didn’t seem drunk to me at all, but I wasn’t about to point that out to him.

  “Did it make you feel better?” I couldn’t see him very well, but I knew he was close because I could feel the heat from his body warming mine.

  “I think so,” he replied quietly, his voice fighting for volume with the waves.

  “Then that’s all that’s important. Besides, I unloaded on you too if I remember correctly.”

  “Did it make you feel better?” he asked, repeating my own question back to me.

  ‘Better’ wasn’t a good word to describe what I was feeling. I didn’t feel worse, exactly, but I felt different. More open, more aware, maybe even a little sad, but not in a bad way. It almost felt as though I was mourning the person I was with Chris. I lost a part of myself with him, but I wasn’t sad to see her go. Not really.

  “You made me feel something, and that’s a step forward.” I knew if I reached my hand out, I would be touching him, he was that close, and I wanted that. Wanted to link some part of me with some part of him, even if only to ground me, to give me some sort of proof that we were here and this had happened. A man, who I hardly knew, seemed to see a part of myself I’d never shown anyone before. He saw me and that, to me, was precious.

  “I guess that’s all I can ask,” he said, and I could feel him pull away from me. His warmth disappeared and the cool ocean air was suddenly between us.