Cruel Water (Portland, ME, novels Book 2)

by Freya Barker

  Kicking off my shoes and tossing my purse onto a chair, I flop down on the bed with the room service menu. Not normally a justifiable expense, but fuck; it’s been a long-ass day. As soon as I have my order in, I change into some comfy leggings and a T-shirt and lay back down on the bed, phone in hand.

  “Hey,” I say when Ike answers. “I’m back. It was exhausting, and I don’t really wanna rehash it all again, so tell me about your day instead.”

  I love the sound of his chuckle. It’s deep and a little rough, and it gives me a charge every time I hear it.

  “Fair enough,” he says. “Just tell me this, have you eaten?”

  “Ordered some room service, just now. I’m not leaving this room until it’s time to go tomorrow morning.”

  “Sounds good. What time is your flight?”

  “Not until noon. I should be in San Fran at one-thirty.”

  “Your brother-in-law picking you up?”

  “Yeah. Kyle has me booked at a B&B around the corner from their house, just in case.” I insisted, worried that Dorian might not want to have me in his house. Kyle thought it was ridiculous and was only willing to book it for the first night. He said if Dorian hadn’t seen the light by Friday night, he would kick his ass out and move me in. “So what have you been up to?” I ask again.

  “Did some shopping.”

  His voice is serious enough, but still I burst out laughing. “Shopping? You?”

  “I did,” he chuckles before turning serious once again. “I needed some new bedding.”

  I can barely contain the snorts. “I can’t see you doing Macy’s, Ike”

  “Crate and Barrel, actually,” he deadpans, and that’s the end of my restraint.

  When I finally catch my breath I hear him say, “You done?” But there is no malice in his voice, just amusement.

  “I am. I am done. Thank you, I so needed that laugh.”

  “I wasn’t kidding. I have one sheet set and a bunch of old blankets. I wanted to get some decent stuff for when you come over.”

  “What?” Any lingering snickers disappear instantly when his words register. “You went shopping for me?”

  Now it’s his turn to laugh. “Well, it’s for my bed, but I’m hoping to have you in there with me at all times. So yeah, I guess so.”

  Ike

  “Hang on,” she whispers, suddenly sounding like she’s crying.

  Fuck me. What did I do? I thought it might be nice to have some nice sheets and a nice comforter for when she’s over.

  To be honest, I was bored out of my brain last night. I didn’t feel like going out with the guys of the crew, who kindly invited me along. Things are back on track for the launch on Saturday and the mood was pretty celebratory, but I passed. Instead I walked back to the hotel and on an impulse, stopped into a Crate and Barrel store I passed on the way. Can’t say exactly what drew me in, although I suspect it had something to do with the mermaid lamp on the nightstand in the window display. I’m turning into a fucking chick. I missed Viv. Well, there hadn’t really been opportunity to miss her yet, but I was anticipating it. See? Total fucking chick.

  The idea for the bedding popped up when I started wondering whether it would be too soon to get her to move in with me. Definitely too soon.

  I can hear her talking to someone in the background. Some rattling and then a door closing, before I hear her breathing into the phone.

  “Ike?”

  “Still here,” I tell her. “Who was that?”

  “Room service,” she explains. “I had to find some cash for a tip.”

  “I should let you eat.”

  “Wait.” She pauses briefly before continuing. “So did you buy any?”

  “Sheets? Yes, and a comforter. A few towels as well,” I grudgingly admit, feeling all kinds of ridiculous right now, but Viv isn’t laughing at me this time.

  “That’s nice,” she whispers.

  “Look, it’s not a big deal. I needed some decent stuff anyway.”

  “Oh, I think it’s a pretty big deal and ... I like it.”

  “Good.”

  I’m sitting here in my hotel room, clear across the country from where she’s sitting in hers, smiling like a fucking dufus.

  “Hey, I should probably eat my food before it gets cold,” she says, and I can hear a smile in her voice, too.

  “Yes, you should. Call me tomorrow when you get to San Fran?”

  “I will. Night, Isaac.”

  “I like that ... Isaac. Night—and Viv?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I miss you.”

  Total. Fucking. Chick.

  Viv

  Another day, another airport.

  Kyle doesn’t need a sign, I see his tall, lanky figure sticking up, head and shoulders over the other people waiting for arrivals. If that wasn’t enough, the moment he spots me, he starts waving his arms and yelling. Nut.

  This time I managed to maximize my enjoyment of business class. A short flight, there was simply no time to fall asleep, so I took the orange juice offered. I also accepted the coffee in the real cup, with real cream. I spent my time flicking through my totally private little TV screen until I found Fifty Shades of Grey. Looking around me first, to make sure no one would see, I pressed play and donned my head phones. I’ll admit, I fast forwarded, since the flight was only an hour and twenty minutes, but I made sure I got the good stuff in. I didn’t care much for the book, but I’d heard some of the scenes were pretty damn hot—this according to Pam, who has a serious crush on Jamie—so I wanted to at least hit those. Of course I ran out of time and didn’t get a chance to splash some cold water on my face before landing, so I walked off the plane with a lusty blush on my cheeks.

  “Girl, what happened to you?” Kyle asks way too loudly when I reach him and random people are turning to look at me.

  “Kyle!” I stage whisper. “Turn it down.” Half of what I say gets muffled when he wraps his long arms around me and lifts me clear off the floor.

  “So glad you’re here, honey. We’re gonna straighten that boy out,” he says, his volume at a more respectable level now. Kyle is very flamboyant. I guess it’s the artist in him, but when I first met him, it had taken some getting used to. It was odd to see my big, built, deep-voiced brother looking at this exotic creature with stars in his eyes. It didn’t take long though, the love between them was clear as day. I know they’ve had some issues, mainly around Dorian living a lie each time he interacts with our family. That’s something that doesn’t sit well with Kyle, and I have to admit, if I were him I’d be pretty fed up with being kept a secret this long too.

  “I hope so,” I tell him, not at all sure, but when Kyle gets something in his head it’s full steam ahead. I just hope it doesn’t backfire. “So what’s the plan?” I follow Kyle, who has taken charge of my suitcase, out of the terminal and into the afternoon heat.

  “Dor is at the gallery. We’re dropping off your bag at the B&B and picking up your key, and then we go shopping.”

  “Really? Not a fan of shopping, Kyle. I thought you knew that.”

  “Groceries and birthday party supplies. We’re hitting up Costco. Dinner for tonight and snackies and burgers for tomorrow.”

  We’ve reached Kyle’s little, sporty Beemer and instead of putting my carry-on in the trunk, he tosses it in the backseat before folding his long body behind the wheel.

  “I don’t mind Costco,” I admit, when we’re all buckled in. “Maybe I can find him a birthday gift there. I haven’t had a chance to get anything.”

  “Nonsense,” he objects, waving his hand in my face. “You’re here, that’s the best birthday gift ever.”

  The ride to the B&B, a beautiful sprawling home with immaculate landscaping, is literally right around the corner. No more than a two minute walk. The lady is lovely and shows us to the back of the house, where my room is actually a small guest house at the back of the property, beside the massive swimming pool. She gives me the key and shows me the side gate, wh
ich is locked, but she tells me the same key will open the gate as well. Handy.

  After a bit of oohing and aahing over the place, Kyle goes on ahead to their place. I promise to be over as soon as I have my stuff unpacked. I want a few minutes alone so I can call Ike, as promised.

  -

  “You know you have ridiculous amounts of food, right?” I point out to Kyle, who managed to cram every last item from his overflowing Costco cart into that little BMW. Now that we’ve unloaded it into his kitchen and have it all spread out over the counter and kitchen table, it is clear that they won’t need cheese, crackers, hamburgers or buns for the next year. Twelve people are invited, he says. Well, these quantities are for forty, at least.

  “We have a big freezer.” He breezes past me with five bags of chocolate covered pretzels “because they were on sale,” and dives into the walk-in pantry. “Stop fussing and start packing it away,” he calls from the door opening.

  I open the fridge and am disheartened at how full it already is. Packing the perishables away is like a fucking Chinese puzzle. As I’m shoving the last salami sausage in the last available space, I briefly consider that unless someone knows what to grab first, the entire contents will come falling out. Oh well. I quickly shove the door closed, determined I won’t want anything from the fridge. Ever.

  I’m actually glad for the distraction Kyle provides, with his constant chattering, as we jointly prepare a stir-fry for dinner. It gives me less time to consider the confrontation that lies ahead. Still, when I hear the front door open and keys dropping on the hallway table, I feel like I’m going to puke.

  “Hey, baby,” Kyle calls out, rubbing my shoulder as I stand frozen, the chef’s knife in the air, prone to cut the bok choy. “In here,” he adds, fishing the knife from my hand with two fingers and putting it down on the counter.

  I can’t take my eyes off the doorway and watch Dorian’s face transform the minute he walks in the door and spots me.

  “What are you doing here?” Are the first words out of his mouth. Kyle abruptly drops his hand from my shoulder and marches up to stand toe-to-toe with Dorian, who doesn’t take his eyes off me.

  “I invited her. Deal with it,” Kyle says and Dorian faces him.

  “Why?”

  “Because you’re reacting. You’re not thinking. Now, you’re gonna come keep us company while we finish dinner.”

  With some reluctance, Dorian ends up following Kyle to the kitchen, pulling out a stool at the counter, and taking the beer Kyle offers him.

  The tension is so thick, it’s cloying, but I knew this wasn’t going to be a cakewalk, so I pick up the knife, and without saying a word, chop up the bok choy.

  Dinner is very uncomfortable. Kyle tries to drag both of us into conversation, but neither Dorian or I are much help. Kyle starts piling up the dishes and walks into the kitchen, so I get up and start collecting the rest of them when Dorian stops me with a hand on my arm.

  “Why Viv? Why after all these years?” Pain and confusion shimmer in his eyes.

  Slowly I sink back down into my seat, his hand sliding down my arm to grasp my hand. I heard Kyle’s words to Dorian earlier, and I try to tamp down the part of me that wants to react to his question with anger. But this is not about who’s right, this is about salvaging my relationship with my brother. These are my ripples. I tossed a brick into what everyone thought was smooth water. I own that. But I should also own the resulting ripples, just like my father has to own his. That’s the crux of it, right there—I’ve carried the consequences of his abuse for so long; it has impacted every damn aspect of my life to a point where I am ... I was ruled by it.

  “Because what he did has dominated my life. I tried to block it out, but it’s not that simple. It scarred me in a way I can’t ignore anymore, Dorian.”

  “But how? I mean, there were so many of us in that house, how ...” His voice fades as he drops his head in his hands.

  “I tried. Believe me I tried. Think about it, Dor,” I prod, wanting to let him figure it out. Wanting him to start putting the pieces together on his own. Those signs that everyone turned a blind eye to at the time.

  I watch as his head comes up slowly, disbelief gradually changing to anger in his face. “Your warm milk?” Shaking his head, a tear starts rolling down his face. “Oh my God ... that was his thing, every night.”

  It’s painful to watch the truth gradually reveal itself, leaving devastation in its wake. I see it in Dorian’s eyes when he looks at me.

  “It’s not that I didn’t believe you, Viv. You have to understand, I just didn’t want to believe that of him either.” He pleads for understanding with his eyes, and I do. I get it. I remember the same confusion.

  “I love him, Viv, but now I hate him too. What do I do with that?” As he forces the words from his mouth, his face crumples.

  “I don’t know, Dor,” I tell him honestly, watching as Kyle comes in from the kitchen and puts comforting arms around my brother. “I’ve been trying to figure that out my whole life.”

  -

  Kyle tries to convince me to move out of the B&B tonight and stay with them, but I need some time to myself after an emotionally exhausting evening.

  Lots of tears and anger, but we also had some good laughs and even happy moments. Especially when Dorian announced that he needed to “man up” and come out of the closet already. Said that since I had already dropped a bomb, his bit of news should create no more than a dent. Kyle’s squeals were ear-shattering and totally understandable. For near twenty years, the man has had to hide to preserve my brother’s secret. Even though Dorian has always been part of every aspect of Kyle’s life, he never fully let Kyle into his.

  When I pull the door closed behind me and start walking down the street, I know I made the right decision to stay in the rented room tonight. The way those two were eyeing each other, it’s obvious there will be some celebrating going on.

  It strikes me how funny life can be, like a row of domino stones, one event prompting another, and another. Sometimes the stones get stuck, but with a little nudge—a little outside help—their forward flow of energy is restored.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Ike

  “Hey! You can’t park there.”

  A security guard walks up to the car, a scowl on his face.

  Wonderful. The only fucking available spot in sight and I can’t park here. I’m late. Viv’s plane was scheduled to get in an hour ago, and I got hung up behind an accident on the bridge over the channel. I’ve tried calling her cell phone but she’s not answering.

  “I won’t be more than a minute. I’m late picking someone up,” I try, already knowing it’ll meet with deaf ears. Sure enough, the guard just waves his hand, indicating for me to move.

  Dammit. I wanted to be waiting for her at the gate with the flowers I got her. Sappy idiot. Pulling away from the curb I prepare to drive around the terminal once again, when I spot a familiar streak of blue on a head of blonde hair behind a group of travelers coming through the sliding doors. With a quick peek in my side mirror to check on the guard, I quickly double park and jump out of the car.

  “Viv! Over here!” I wave in her direction until I see her spot me, a big smile cracking her face. Damn, she’s beautiful.

  “Hey, you! Didn’t I tell you to move?” I turn to the voice and watch the security guard make his way over.

  “She’s right there,” I explain, turning back to point out Viv’s approach. She’s apparently caught on that something is up, because the smile is gone and she’s rushing.

  “Not my problem,” the asshole says, pulling a pad from his breast pocket, preparing to write me a ticket. A quick glance at the “towing-zone” sign shows that could be a whopping $2,000. Hell no. Just as I’m about to unleash my decidedly crappy morning on his ass, Viv’s smoky voice pipes up.

  “Oh thank you, officer! I was so worried I was going to be too late,” she babbles, batting her eyelashes as she shoves her carry-on in my hands. “N
ow we may just make it in time to the hospital.” Turning to me she says, “Let’s go, baby, I need to go say goodbye to Daddy.”

  I struggle to keep a straight face, the minx even manages to produce a few tears. Quickly tossing the suitcase in the back, I’m glad to see the guard, distractedly tuck the pad back in his pocket, never taking his eyes off Viv. A siren indeed. With watery eyes she smiles at him. “We’ll be out of your hair now. Thank you again, so much.” I’m already in the driver’s seat when she climbs in the car, mumbling under her breath, “Drive!” The crunch of paper the moment her behind sits down makes me wince, but I simply put the car in drive and tear out of there.

  “What the hell? What did I just sit down on?” Viv tries to push off the seat, trying to get a look.

  “Buckle up, babe,” I remind her. “Those flowers are for you,” I add with a smile.

  I just keep driving until we almost hit the I-95. I pull off into a truck rest stop, slam the car in park and turn to Viv, hauling her half out of her seat, so I can finally give her a fucking welcome home kiss.

  “Whoa,” she breathes when I finally release her mouth, her hands having found their way around my neck. “What was that?”

  “That, my love, was how glad I am to have you home.”

  A bright smile breaks across her face and reaches all the way to her stunning eyes. “Me, too,” she says simply, but it says enough.

  Reaching around her, I snatch the helplessly crushed bouquet of flowers off the seat and lowering the window, toss them out. “I’ll buy you more,” I reassure her, seeing her wince. Lowering her back into her seat, I lean in for one last taste of her lips before I shift the car in drive and get us back on the road.

  With only minimal prompting on my part, Viv spends the drive recounting the events of her last few days. The occasional glances, I throw her way, catch every emotion she feels clearly displayed on her face. Something I have been able to see from the day I met her. She’s an open book to me, no longer holding anything back, and although I’ve shared some, I realize it’s time to even out the playing field. Trust is a precious commodity and not something easily earned or given. Where she’s freely given me her trust, I’ve not done my part in earning it. That’s got to change.