Storm

by Mankin, Michelle

  “Night, Lotus,” she said, shifting her weight from one red Converse sneaker to the other.

  “Night,” I said, closing out the file and emailing it to my boss’s account.

  “Hey.” The blond waitress bit down on her lip. “Can I ask you something?”

  Untying my bandanna, I nodded. “Sure, I guess.”

  “What do you know about the new guy in Saber’s group?”

  His kisses scramble my mind. His body is a work of art. Being in his arms was unforgettable. Just thinking about him makes my heart race.

  “He’s a guitarist. From LA.” I gave her a little nothing, then tried to get a big something. “I saw you gave him your number. Are you going out with him?” I held my breath.

  “I gave him my number. He hasn’t called.” Her cell in her hand, she checked it again. “Yet.” Her teeth sank deeper into her bottom lip.

  I exhaled, then made myself inhale deeply and slowly. He isn’t yours, Lotus. Besides, Tess was nice. Recently separated. Pretty.

  “He’ll call you,” I said.

  “You think so?” Her sea-glass-green eyes aglow, she looked equal parts skeptical and hopeful.

  “If he doesn’t, it’s his loss. Right?”

  She nodded. “Yeah, I guess.”

  My stomach twisted painfully. Not yours. Not yours.

  Giving me a little smile, she waved. “Good night.”

  “See ya.” I waved back, then got my bag from under the counter and joined Saber.

  “Busy night, huh?” he asked, taking my hand and leading me down the stairs.

  “Yeah, a seven-hundred-dollar one for me.”

  “That’s awesome.” He grinned. “I’m glad for you.”

  “Someone gave me a hundred-dollar cash tip.” I glanced at him. “Was it you?”

  “No, babe, but if—”

  “You’ve gotta stop paying my rent. I need to make my own way.”

  “We’ll see,” he said noncommittally, his lips flattening.

  “Saber, no. If I can’t make it on my own, I need to change something.” Eat less. Get another job. Scale back in other areas. “But the adjustments are on me to figure out. I don’t want to throw my finances on our relationship. On our reboot. Okay?”

  “All right.”

  Saber’s lips turned down as we retraced my previous steps on the sidewalk beside the OB Hotel. The big plate-glass windows that revealed the courtyard and fountain were dark. No one was around. No sign of Journey. On my way to the storeroom, I’d overheard him say he was staying at the hotel for the night.

  The offshore wind whipped my hair as we turned left and headed up Newport Avenue. The shops were closed, but a few bars were still open.

  Reaching the top of the hill, we waited for the light to change and turned right at the crosswalk. Hand in hand, we passed the Rite Aid, then strolled beneath the branches of trees in front of one shadowy residence after another until we reached the dead-end street my apartment building was on.

  Saber gave me a thoughtful look. “You’re quiet tonight.”

  So are you.

  “I guess I’m just tired after LA,” I said without thinking, and his hand spasmed around mine.

  Shit.

  “I’m sorry. I meant I worked hard at the concert, and I worked hard tonight too.”

  “I know, babe. It’s okay.” His strained voice said it was anything but okay.

  When we stopped beneath a streetlight on the sidewalk in front of my apartment complex, Saber released my hand and pulled me into him by my upper arms. His lips were warm and firm, his kiss short but sweet.

  His gaze searching mine, he tucked a lock of hair behind my ear. “You working at the pier tomorrow?”

  “Yeah, until five. Why?”

  “Shield and I are going to surf early, then go into the studio. Work on the new single with Ash.”

  “Okay.”

  “Meet me there after?”

  “Sure.” I nodded.

  “Good.” His expression turned serious. “I love you.”

  “Love you,” I whispered back, meaning it.

  But the words didn’t have the same conviction they did before I met Journey.

  Storm

  THE NEXT MORNING, I overslept.

  My bed was comfortable. The hotel was right across the street from the ocean and the pier, so the sound of the waves—the ones I used to know as well as the back of my own hand—soothed me. And if I was being totally honest, being near Lotus soothed me too. Maybe even the potential to reconnect with my brothers helped as well, but it also scared me a hell of a lot.

  I took a quick shower, liking the little slider window over the stall. I kept it open so I could hear the ocean and the murmur of voices on the street outside. OB was a beach town. As soon as the sun rose, most people were ready to begin their day.

  I withdrew a muscle tee from my bag, and board shorts rather than jeans. When in Ocean Beach, dress down for Ocean Beach. I conformed willingly to the unwritten local dress code.

  After brushing my teeth, I grabbed my keys from the dresser and went out the door. My steps were quick, the snap of my flip-flops on the floor replacing the slap of the boots I usually wore.

  I descended the stairs from my second-floor room and returned Louis’s wave when I reached the ground floor. The hotel manager was friendly, like all the staff had been during my stay.

  I dipped through the concrete breezeway with the wall art of how the pier had looked way back at the turn of the century and strode to my vehicle. I started up the engine, circled the parking lot, and braked before exiting on Newport Avenue. Flicking on my blinker, I glanced left, then right, looking for traffic, and I saw her.

  Lotus. Her hair long and loose, she was sitting on the low wall by the ocean, plants on either side of her.

  Switching my blinker, I turned right and steered the Scout into the public parking lot near where she was, just across the street from the hotel. It was the weekend, so the lot was overflowing with cars, frequented by tourists and locals. Lucky for me, I found an empty spot in the back.

  Keys in hand, I got out and strode straight to her.

  A young guy was with her, the same one she’d surfed with the day before. It had been far away when I’d watched them from the cliffs, but I recognized that it was the same guy. He had a confident stance, and he was good-looking if you discounted the angry red scar that sliced downward from his hairline to just between his eyes.

  My scars were badges of honor, visible evidence that I’d survived some serious shit. I got the idea his were the same. He was a Cali blond, and rocked the same easygoing surfer vibe that Ash and his cousin Linc did. However, Lotus didn’t seem to be drawn to standard.

  The man-boy lifted his gaze to me. His blue-green eyes widened, which was to be expected. Non-standard, I was tatted to hell and disconcerting at first glance to some people.

  “Can I help you, sir?” he asked politely.

  “What do you have?” I asked.

  I could see that plants were for sale—succulents, violets like the ones I’d smashed, and cut dahlias. The containers were unique. Driftwood. Woven grapevine. Shells. They had prices on them, but there were also cards displayed. The writing was clearly done by Lotus’s hand.

  “I’ll be right with you,” Lotus said kindly, sensing my presence but not looking directly at me as she helped a customer.

  Swiping a credit card through a scanner attachment on her phone, she handed it back to the woman and reached into a plastic bin on the wall beside her. As she withdrew a pretty gold-and-black-swirled gift bag, her gaze met mine.

  Lotus’s eyes widened, and tension shot through her. Her previously sure fingers fumbled with the wrapping, and she stumbled on her words.

  The man-boy shifted, putting himself in front of her. That kind of pissed me off, but I also admired the heck out of him for looking out for her, facing off with a dude like me. With my scary-ass tattoos, a couple inches taller than him, and quite a few pounds heavier wi
th mess-you-up muscle weight, I was a force to be reckoned with.

  “Journey.” Lotus turned to me as her customer walked away. She sounded breathless. “What are you doing here?”

  “Saw you when I pulled out to head to LA. What are you doing here?” I gestured to her wares but kept my eye on the man-boy.

  “I sell my plants and poems here on Sundays.”

  “Just like you always . . . I mean, that’s cool.” I picked up one of the cards and read it out loud to redirect her from my major flub. “‘All I need is your love . . . and flip-flops.’ This is nice. Who drew the picture?” I asked, knowing whose poem it was.

  “Cork did.” She gestured. “My brother.”

  “This is your brother?” Holy shit. He’d been just a little kid when I left OB.

  “Yeah.” She mistook the reason for my surprise. “We don’t look like siblings. Cork takes after my dad, and I look like my mom. She was Thai.”

  I knew all this, but I nodded as if it were new information. Extending my hand to her brother, I said, “Nice to meet you, Cork. I’m Journey.”

  “Heard her call you that.” He continued to study me, his gaze sharp, but there was something different about him. I just couldn’t identify what. “Nice to meet you too. You’re OB Hardy’s new guitarist.”

  “Yes, I am.”

  “Best band there is. Next to the Dirt Dogs.”

  My lips curved. “Got good taste.”

  “Cork loves music almost as much as surfing.” Her expression warm, Lotus threw her arm around her brother’s shoulders.

  He accepted the public display of affection, but he went stiff like she had a moment before. He was embarrassed. Working out the math, I knew he was seventeen. Almost a man. She didn’t seem to get it, but then she was a girl, one far too young to be clued into the ways of a teenage boy.

  “I’ll take this one.” I gestured to the card.

  “You don’t have to buy it. You can have it as a gift.”

  “I insist on paying. I’ll sign it and give it to my landlord in LA when I move out. Actually, I’ll take all the plants. Soften the blow of a month-to-month rent check she’s not going to be getting from me anymore.”

  “Journey. No.” She shook her head.

  Lotus’s hair was long and loose today. I wanted to bury my hands in it like I had before. My cock stirred inside my board shorts from the memory. I wanted to take her to the nearest bed, get her naked, and have her all over again.

  “Why not?” My question was gruff.

  “Because this is three hundred dollars’ worth of stuff that you don’t need.”

  “I do need it. Though, on second thought, I probably won’t give all of it to my landlady. I have violets to replace when I move into a new place here.” When Lotus shifted and looked uncomfortable at my reference to our night together, I added, “If I can find a place here.”

  “The apartment below ours is available to rent,” Cork said, his brows drawing together. “It’s bigger than ours. It’s a two-bedroom with a front-facing balcony, and it has a view of the pier.”

  “It’s nine hundred square feet. Nineteen fifty a month. It costs a lot more than ours too.” Lotus frowned. “We can’t afford it.”

  “He might be able to.” Cork tilted his head toward me.

  “I could swing that.” After signing with Outside, I wouldn’t even have to dip into my savings. “I’d like to have a look at it. I could use extra room for an office studio. And a view of the ocean would be nice. Can you show me where it is?” I asked, looking straight at her.

  I knew where her apartment complex was. I’d never forgotten where I’d said good-bye to her all those years ago.

  Her gaze sliding to the ocean, Lotus scrunched her brow. She seemed to be wrestling with something within herself.

  “Sure,” she said, and her brow smoothed as she refocused on me. “I’ll show you where it is.”

  “Thank you,” I said, my voice carrying above the cry of the gulls and the roar of the surf. “But can you do me another favor?”

  She tensed but nodded.

  “After we total up my receipt, can you and Cork help me load these beauties into my vehicle? I tend to be clumsy with plants, when I’m not careful like I should be, or when I lose my temper. I inherited anger issues from my dad. But I should’ve known . . . I should know not to handle something so beautiful,” I stared hard at her, “and delicate in the wrong sort of mood. I apologize for that. I mean, I apologize in advance if I should do either of those things in the future.”

  Her brows rose, her eyes bright now. “I accept your apology.”

  She got me, got what I was really trying to apologize for was the way I’d reacted with her after Saber called.

  “I think we both got the wrong idea about the other.” Her cheeks turned pink. “But today’s a new day, right? A fresh start. I’d be glad to help you get settled. Cork will too.”

  She smiled at me. It was genuine and brilliant, a gift beyond what I deserved, though I couldn’t recall the last apology I’d made.

  I was a gruff asshole who didn’t usually stick around long enough to get into situations where apologies were necessary. But I would have given Lotus a hundred of them, just to see her pretty face light up like it was right now.

  Lotus

  I WAS SO screwed. Journey rented the apartment directly below mine. He took one look at it and put down a deposit.

  I couldn’t blame him. The rental market in Ocean Beach was notoriously tight, and the apartment was a steal. It was priced accordingly, because though well-kept like ours, it was outdated. The entire complex was a tribute to the 1970s when it was built, but Mrs. Nowak was a good landlord, the location couldn’t be beat, and the view from his unit was stellar.

  “There’s a laundry room, a pool, and a weight room.” My brother bounced on his toes. “You could work out with me and Lotus, if you want.”

  “That sounds great.” Journey turned his brown gaze on me, and I flushed, imagining being near him with all his raw masculinity simmering and his impressive muscles flexing. “Surprised your sister has time to lift weights.”

  “She doesn’t, really.” Cork’s brows dipped. “But she doesn’t want me lifting alone.”

  Journey’s eyes widened. “Why the fuck not?”

  “Can I talk to you a minute?” I gestured to the balcony. “Alone.”

  “Sure.” Journey nodded, and I led the way, something that I was sure irked him.

  I slid the door open. He closed it after he stepped out onto the balcony with me.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked, and I turned around to face him.

  “I wanted to talk privately. I don’t want Cork to feel bad or awkward about what I tell you.” I let out a breath and gave it to him straight. “My brother had a surfing accident when he was thirteen. Because of that, he can’t do certain things on his own anymore.”

  I left out the more painful details. How terrible it had been for Cork to come to terms with his new life, and for my dad and me too.

  “What happened?” Journey frowned. He wasn’t going to let me get away with skimming.

  “Cork took to surfing from his first lesson and started entering competitions. He made the finals every time. Everyone was amazed at what he could do at such a young age. His air-reverses were effortless. I loved watching him, and so did my dad.”

  Tears sprang to my eyes and my throat closed. I stopped, swallowed, and suddenly found myself wrapped up in Journey’s tatted arms. I leaned into him. His fresh ocean scent and his strength stabilized me.

  “The day Cork’s accident happened, he was showing off for me here in OB, doing rotations one after another while darting between the pylons under the pier. He miscalculated, hit one, and got knocked off his board. Then another huge wave came along, slamming him into yet another pylon. His leash got severed and he went under.” I shuddered, seeing my brother disappear beneath the waves all over again.

  “Lotus, fuck,” Journey said, his voice
rough, and tightened his arms around me. “That must have been terrible.”

  “It was the worst,” I said, clinging to him. “I was too far away on the shore to do anything. I felt so helpless.” And responsible.

  “It’s not your fault, you know.” He eased back, lifting my chin with a finger, and gave me a firm look.

  Stunned, I froze. No one had ever said so directly. I’d never admitted my guilt. I hadn’t even now, only thought it. But somehow, Journey knew.

  I realized in that moment that the familiarity I’d felt in LA wasn’t because he looked like anyone I knew, but because he acted like someone I’d known. Storm had always intuitively understood me like that.

  “But if—”

  “Babe, I don’t know why this happened. No one knows why bad things happen to good people. I just know that it sucks that they do. And I know that you’re not responsible for what happened to Cork.”

  “If I hadn’t been there . . . if he hadn’t been showing off to impress me . . .” I sucked in a breath, wishing like I always did that I could rewind time and change what happened that day.

  “People make the choices they do. Cork made the choice he did. A thirteen-year-old boy?” Journey arched a brow. “I was a handful at that age, and I imagine he was too. Do you really think you had any control of him when he was in the water? Or anywhere else, for that matter?”

  “I guess not,” I mumbled.

  “Definitely not.” He framed my face and swiped the tears that had fallen away with his thumbs. “Who got him out of the water?”

  “A nearby surfer dove down and got him. But I swam out and helped bring Cork in. There was so much blood. He wasn’t moving, and I thought he was dead.”

  “But he wasn’t,” Journey said softly. “He’s here now. And he seems like a great kid.”

  “He is a great kid. The best brother ever, but he hasn’t advanced cognitively the way he should. His judgment is dangerously faulty at times, so things like the weight room, surfing, and crossing streets unsupervised are out.”

  “I’m sorry. Sorry for him. Sorry for you.” Journey moved his hands to my upper arms, gripping me firmly but gently. “It must be difficult for both of you.”