Cruel Water (Portland, ME, novels Book 2)

by Freya Barker

  “Tuesday.”

  “Aren’t you supposed to be at work? Oh God—The Skipper, I have to—...” But I don’t get the chance to finish my sentence or get up from the chaise, because Ike’s hands push firmly on my shoulders.

  “We have the week off.”

  “But—”

  “It’s done. Taken care of.” I’m about to protest when he leans down, slips his hands under my arms and lifts me half out of the couch to hug me to his chest. “Beautiful—let me.” His words are heavy with meaning and his eyes hold a message that registers. He needs this.

  So instead of protesting, I lift my mouth, pressing a small kiss to his. “Thank you.”

  After we watch him leave, Pam turns to me with a smirk on her face. “He loves you.”

  I nod. “I know. I love him back.”

  Pam’s eyes shoot up into her hairline. “You seem ready to accept that?”

  Again I nod. “He’s giving me every reason to.”

  “Good,” she says with a last sip of her coffee, before she puts her cup resolutely on the table. “Let’s start with you telling me what happened at the hospital on Friday. Ike already gave me the outline, but I want you to tell me what happened to you.”

  That starts a long session of soul-cleansing talk, tears, and analysis that leaves me feeling ultimately better. Being forced to put to words my confusing emotions helps place them in context and therefore easier to understand. Pam coaxes and cajoles until she squeezes the last drop out of me, and I finally throw up my arms. “Enough! I’m done. I need a nap,” I beg.

  Pam tilts her head to the side and squints her eyes at me before answering. “Okay. Enough for now, but you have to promise me—promise me—not to close off again. Because, girl, it would’ve broken my heart, but I was this close to having you hospitalized. Don’t you fucking scare us like that again.”

  Guilt hits me square in the chest. Those words, uttered with such emotion behind them, illustrate without any doubt, the worry I’ve put them through. Both Pam and Ike, and who knows who else. I’ve been so hung up on shutting myself off, I never properly considered what it does to those who care for me. Who love me.

  Ike is right. I’ll never fully live if I’m too scared to struggle through the bad to get to the good. And that would cause a ripple effect on those around me. People I care about. People I love.

  Feeling exhausted, but a million pounds lighter, I look Pam straight in the eyes. “I promise,” I tell her before repeating more strongly. “I promise.”

  Ike

  When I came home earlier, Pam was waiting on the couch, by herself. “Where’s Viv?”

  “Having a nap. Don’t worry,” she added quickly. “It was a good session. A great session actually, but it wore her out. Wore me out, too. So now that you’re back, I’m heading out.” She stood up and her eyes zoomed in on the duffel bag I had in my hand. “What’s that? I thought you were going for groceries,” she said, her eyebrows raised in question.

  “Swung by Viv’s apartment to pick up her stuff. At least the beginnings of it,” I explained. “Figured she’s not ready to face anyone in her family just yet.”

  “You would be right. Best give her some time. So Dorian is still here?” She wanted to know.

  “His partner apparently flew back home Sunday night. Dorian’s staying indefinitely.”

  “Because of Viv?”

  “Partially, he says. Says he’s done avoiding confrontation and wants to stay close for now. Their father’s deterioration is part of it, too. This whole fucking mess is taking its toll on everyone in that family. Everyone is on pins and needles around each other. I made it clear to Dorian, I don’t want that for Viv. She doesn’t need it.” I dropped Viv’s bag at the bottom of the stairs and the bag of groceries I had in my other hand on the kitchen island.

  “And how are you coping?” Pam’s surprisingly gentle question startled me.

  “Me? I don’t know,” I admitted to her. “Managing. I know, probably better than most, how important family is. Their acceptance, their trust. How painful it is to lose that. I’ll do whatever I can to make sure that doesn’t happen for Viv. She fucking deserves better.” Turning back, I started putting away the groceries, but my movements stilled when I felt Pam’s hand on my shoulder.

  “So do you, Isaac. So do you.”

  I didn’t start moving again until I heard the soft click of my front door behind her.

  That was a few hours ago. In the meantime I’ve spoken to Syd, Gunnar, and Owen on the phone. The last was a surprise. He said he got my number off Dorian and wanted to know how Viv was doing, but didn’t want to disturb her. I told him the truth, which clearly didn’t make him feel any better. Don’t fucking care. I also don’t care that telling him there’s no way in hell I’d let him come talk to her—not now—pissed him off. “I’m her brother,” he said and I snorted. Told him he sure hadn’t treated her like a brother, like family should. Told him Viv has good people around her, who love her and never once questioned her honesty, her integrity. Never betrayed her trust, like her family had. That shut him up. I did end up promising him I’d let him know if or when she was ready to see anyone. That’s when I turned off my phone and started dinner.

  “What’s for dinner?” Viv’s sleepy voice drifts in from the doorway.

  Rinsing my hands under the tap, I snatch a towel to dry them as I turn around to a very sleep-tousled and sweet-looking Viv. The moment I put the towel down, she takes the few steps that separate us and molds herself against my front, my arms slipping naturally around her body.

  Kissing her hair, I mumble, “Oven-roasted chicken breast, potatoes, and Caesar salad.”

  “Mmmm, sounds good. I’m actually a little hungry.”

  I lift her chin with my finger and smile down at her. “Glad, baby. Really glad.”

  “What’s my bag doing here?” She turns and points to the duffel bag I’d left at the bottom of the stairs.

  “Picked up some of your things. Enough to last a few days, I hope.”

  She looks at me questioningly. “I’m staying?”

  “Relatively speaking. I’m taking you away for a couple of days. We’re taking the bike, so we have to pack light. But I figure a bathing suit, some shorts and shirts would be enough. Whatever else we need we can buy.”

  It’s easy to see the internal struggle she wages, but finally she turns to me with a smile. “Where are you taking me?”

  I silently heave a sigh of relief. I’d worried she wouldn’t want to go, but I thought a few days away from Portland might be good. Give her a chance to do some healing. Fuck, if I’m honest, I need this for myself. It’d been easy enough to get time off work. My last design had gone over well and everything else could wait, David said. Not like I was in a habit of taking vacations, so I had quite a bit of time due. Gunnar had been even easier. “As long as it takes, I don’t fucking care. You just make sure you take care of her.”

  “Up to Bar Harbor. Got a cottage sorted right on the water. It’s basic but clean. We leave tomorrow morning at the crack of dawn.”

  “Sounds perfect,” she says with a sniff, as she tucks her head back in my neck.

  Viv

  “I don’t want to leave tomorrow.”

  I turn on my side to face him, putting a hand on his stomach.

  We’ve been in Bar Harbor three days, and tomorrow we have to vacate our cottage for the next vacationers. I don’t want to.

  I didn’t expect my showdown with my father to have quite the impact it did. Not that it would’ve stopped me if I had. It’d been cathartic in a way. Like a crude excising of a dormant cancer, it left a raw, gaping hole that would take time to heal. Those first few days after I almost disappeared into that hole, had Ike not forcibly pulled me out. I owe him. I owe him big. He told me the day we arrived here that he’d been in touch with Dorian a few times. Apparently he will be sticking around for a while. Although I’m grateful for that, I’m not ready to face him, let alone anyone else in my fam
ily. It’s not necessarily that I’m upset with Dorian, but I envy him. Ugly emotion, jealousy, and one I didn’t think I harbored a lot, if any, of. I was wrong. In my talks with Ike, and also the sessions with Pam we continued over the phone, it’s become clear to me that part of me has always felt insecure being the only girl in a family of guys. Their unquestioned loyalty to each other became evident when Dor’s sexual orientation was so easily accepted, without question or resentment for keeping that part of his life from them for decades. I was not granted the same loyalty, the same trust. My brothers turned on me as one when I shared my painful secret. Then there’s my mother, to whom the boys can do no wrong, yet who did not hesitate to push me out of the nest, choosing not to believe me. Again. That fucking hurt. Standing on the outside of the family unit looking in. I realized it had been like that most of my life. I had a connection with Dorian that kept me tethered, but when that disappeared at fifteen—admittedly by my own doing—there was nothing left.

  Funny how highly charged emotional situations can unearth complexities and dynamics that weren’t so visible before. At least, not to me.

  Only a short time here and so much of it was spent lying on the beach, talking about everything and anything. It feels like we spent weeks instead of days. Still, I’m not ready to leave, even though I know we have to. Reality awaits and oddly, even with my life a bit of a mess, I feel better having everything out in the open. Of course it helps I have a man who, despite all my layers, has seen me for who I am from the very beginning. I’m blessed, I realize that now. He makes it easy to be open and real, because he no longer hesitates to show his own vulnerabilities and insecurities. A man I’ve only known the summer, but who’s stuck with me through some pretty fucked-up shit. That should count as dog years, right? Sure feels like that, in a very good way. Which is why I don’t particularly want to leave our bubble.

  “Baby,” his voice rumbles low in his chest; I love that sound so much. “Don’t know what you were just thinking but every last thought was visible on your face.” He smiles under his beard, which has become even fuller over the last week. “We have to be out of here tomorrow, but I checked with the owners this morning and booked a week for us here in September.”

  “You did?” I sit up, pushing my hair out of my face and smiling brightly. “I love that! We probably won’t be able to lie on the beach anymore, but we can take long walks on the beach, and maybe go whale watching. I haven’t done that since I was twelve.” I’m already looking forward to it. “Oh! And we have to go back to Galyn, I loved their crab cakes.”

  Ike smiles and runs the back of his hand over my cheek. “Glad it makes you happy, love.”

  I lean forward and press my mouth to his, but when I try to pull back, his hand cups the back of my head and holds me in place. He tilts his head and licks his tongue along the seam of my lips. The moment I slightly open my mouth, his tongue slides in, touching mine boldly. Using his bigger body as leverage, he rolls me on my back and settles his body on top of me. The slight abrasion of sand between our bodies sensitizes my skin and I moan softly in his mouth. Abruptly he lifts himself off me, holding on to just my hand. With the other he snatches up our towels and starts walking toward the cottage, dragging me behind him.

  It’s not that we haven’t been intimate these past days, because we have, but it’s been gentle and sweet. The fire I see in those silver eyes looking back at me, promises heat I don’t mind getting scorched by.

  The moment we step through the door, Ike tosses the sand-covered towels on the couch, but I don’t get a chance to protest. Kicking the door shut, he backs my body against the wall by the door, using his to hold me in place and slamming his mouth on mine hungrily. Ike one-handedly has his swim shorts down and off, rubbing his gloriously naked body against mine. I’m not that fortunate. I manage to get hung up in the one strap of my damp one-piece I manage to pull down. My other hand is too busy roaming over his strong back and tight ass to be any help. I struggle, whimpering with frustration into his mouth. I want my skin against his. I need it. I barely have a chance to protest the loss of his lips when Ike releases my mouth, grabs the straps on my bathing suit, and peels it right off my body. With his mouth back on mine, his hands mold and knead my body, driving me wild. One hand slips between my legs, lightly stroking the wetness gathered there, before I’m pulled away from the wall, twisted and pushed down over the back of the couch, my ass sticking up in the air. His hand comes around my chin and lifts my head back as he surges his cock inside me in one thrust. No words, no sounds, other than the crash of the surf on the beach outside, and the deep guttural grunts that fall from his lips and the moans from my own. The hard, furious pumping of his hips, the slap of his balls against my skin, his hot breath on my neck. This, flits through my mind as my body convulses around his cock, and my knees are no longer able to keep me standing. He plants himself deep inside me, his hips flush against my ass and roars out his release, dropping his head in the crook of my neck.

  “Fucking hell,” he pants out of breath.

  “No shit, Sherlock,” I respond, equally breathless. Both of us burst out laughing before Ike pulls out, swings me up into his arms and walks me into the bedroom, where we start from the beginning.

  We miss seeing the sunset on our last night at the cottage.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Viv

  “Viv!”

  The moment I come walking into the back hallway of The Skipper, Dexter, Gunnar’s eleven-year-old son from a previous marriage, comes tearing down the stairs and throws himself at me.

  “Hey, kiddo.” I ruffle his hair and hug him back.

  “Saw you coming down the alley on the back of that bike. That bike is sweet!” The little Gunnar clone lifts his face at me with a wide grin almost splitting it in two. “Who’s the dude?” he asks, without taking time for a breath.

  I snicker and feel Ike’s warm chuckle in my back. Stepping aside I make introductions. “Dex, this is Ike, and Ike, meet Gunnar’s son, Dexter.” I bite back a smile as I watch Dex pull himself up to his full height, which is still a couple of feet shy of Ike’s, and stick out his hand.

  “Nice to meet you,” he mutters politely, with something akin to awe shining in his eleven-year-old eyes. “My dad’s got a bike, but it’s nowhere near as cool as yours.”

  “Thanks, man,” Ike answers back, Dexter’s shoulders squaring a bit more at being called “man.” “Had her for almost twelve years now, but she’s indestructible.”

  “Wow,” the youngest of the Lucas clan breathes. “That’s older than me.”

  With a chuckle, Ike does his own version of the hair ruffle. “You treat them right, machines like that can last a lifetime. Maybe two.”

  From the kitchen Syd’s head comes poking out. “Eeep, you’re back!” she squeals, stepping around Dex to give me a hug.

  Back in town and glad I asked Ike to drive us here for lunch before heading over to his place, since Dorian is still at mine. I need this place, these people, to bolster me up for when reality sets in.

  I was sad to watch the cottage disappear in the distance. Our stay there had breathed new life into me. Hope. I turned away from the view and pressed my cheek against Ike’s back as he turned onto the road heading back toward my life. Our life.

  I gladly hug Syd back, who next turns to Ike for a warm hug. “Thanks for keeping us in the loop,” she tells him. My eyes shoot up to meet his somewhat guilty ones.

  “I thought you said no phone, other than Pam?”

  He’d insisted when we got to Bar Harbor, that other than my daily phone call with Pam, we were to keep our phones powered off. Seems he didn’t follow his own rules.

  He shrugs his shoulders. “Babe, she needed to know you were okay.” I want to be upset, but the flare of anger is already dying down. It disappears altogether when he puts his hand on my neck and pulls me into him. “You needed the space, your friends needed the reassurance.”

  “I don’t like being managed,” I
protest weakly, more for show than anything else.

  “You trust me?” he asks, as Syd gently but firmly sends Dex back up the stairs and disappears discretely into the kitchen.

  “Yes.” The answer is that simple. I do trust him, trust that he’s looking out for me. Doesn’t mean I always have to like the way he goes about it.

  “Good, then I better tell you that I spoke with Owen, too.”

  I stiffen up at that. I’m still so angry with Owen. Only believing what his eyes couldn’t deny any longer in that hospital room. Not before—not my word.

  Ike must feel it because his arms around me get tighter. “Spoke to him before. On Tuesday, while you were having a nap. You have a right to be mad at him. Be disappointed in him, but Viv, that doesn’t make him any less worried. I wanted to give you time to get your moxie back before you were forced to deal with any of your brothers directly.”

  “My moxie?” I lean back and raise my eyebrows up at him.

  The side of his mouth tilts up. “Getting that fire back, baby,” he says on a growl. “Felt the heat of it all over me last night.”

  I feel his words down to my toes and my body remembers exactly. Lifting up on my toes I press my lips against his.

  “Before that goes any damn further in my hallway, best come say hello and grab some food.” Gunnar comes walking down the hallway and turns into the kitchen with a pointed look in our direction.

  “Fuck,” Ike swears against my lips. Fuck indeed.

  -

  “This is fucking amazing,” Ike mumbles around a mouthful of Dino’s pulled pork.

  Just our luck to have waltzed into the pub at lunch hour. Our breakfast long since processed and digested, Ike’s stomach loudly makes its current empty state known the minute the scent of food hits our nostrils. Which is about a second after walking into the kitchen.

  “You good?” Dino steps into my path and gives me a thorough once-over before bumping his fist under my chin lightly. “Yeah. You’re good,” he says, answering his own question and not paying Ike any mind. I’m pretty sure Ike is starting to get used to his occasional asocial behavior. Dino doesn’t talk much, and when he does it’s concise, to the point, and usually of value to him or whomever he’s talking to. His words mean something. Therefore, it’s hard to be insulted when he snubs you—and certainly not after he carelessly tosses a plate with the most mouth-watering pulled pork sandwich down on the kitchen table in front of Ike. “You look hungry. Eat,” is all he says before he turns back to the massive Dutch oven sitting on top of the stove. Ike doesn’t hesitate and digs in.