by Rachael Wade
“Yes, sir.” He gave a salute and drove away, and I pulled out my phone to check the caller ID. I didn’t recognize the number, but the area code was local.
“Hello?”
“Carter?”
“Yeah, who’s this?”
“It’s Whitney. Emma’s friend?”
I stilled at the bottom of the shop stairway. “Whitney?”
“Yeah, um…you left your number for Emma on her refrigerator door. Am I catching you at a bad time?”
“No, not at all. What’s up?”
“It’s Emma. You know how earlier, I said I thought she’d be okay?”
“Uh huh…”
“Well, now I’m not so sure.”
“Did something happen?”
“You could say that.” She cleared her throat and lowered her voice. “Look, I don’t want to bother you or anything, but I came to her place straight from work and saw your number on her fridge and figured maybe…maybe you wouldn’t mind helping me. She doesn’t know I’m calling you right now. I’m not sure who else to ask for help. I want to keep her business kinda quiet, you know? News travels fast on this island.”
“Help you? I don’t mind. I mean, whatever you need. But I don’t have a car at the moment, so I’m not sure how to get to you.”
“I can come get you. Is that okay?”
I started up the shop stairwell and dug my flat key from my pocket. “Yeah, that’d be fine. How long do I have?”
“Ah, give me 20 minutes. Where do you live?”
“Right down at the marina—the flat above the boat shop on the corner.”
“Yup, I know the place. Okay, see you soon. Thanks, Carter.”
“No problem. See you in a few.” I hung up and hurriedly shoved my key into the lock, on a mission to shower and change before she showed up. What could be so bad that she felt she needed to call me for help? Was Emma really losing it? I couldn’t imagine things being worse than last night. If anything, I figured she’d be sleeping it off all day.
As I scrambled to grab some fresh clothes and hop in the shower, my cell began to buzz again from the dresser. I rushed over and picked it up, freezing when I saw Kate’s name. “Shit.” To pick it up or not to pick it up, to pick it up or not pick it up. I hadn’t spoken to her at all. Hadn’t even bothered to return one measly text. I knew I was being a dick, but I honestly had no clue what to say to the woman. I wasn’t sure I’d know until I somehow got my Ryan Rage under control, but God only knew when that would happen. I still couldn’t get a handle on that beast.
The phone buzzed and buzzed, lighting up with text after text, and then finally, a call. With a deep breath, I hit ignore, then set the phone back on the dresser and walked to the bathroom.
Chapter 3
Team Work
I didn’t know what to expect when Whitney arrived. I wasn’t sure what to say, what not to say, or whether to get any more involved with what was going on between her friend and Jackson at all, but what I did know was Whitney sounded genuinely concerned for Emma, and I couldn’t say no to her. As much as I wasn’t thrilled about interfering, the moment I drove Emma home and the moment I’d befriended Jackson, I’d become invested in their business.
Damn it all.
What had happened to the simple days, when I spent all afternoon lounging on the couch watching TV with Dean before it was time for my shift at Pike Place or time for our next gig? Oh yeah, that’s right.
Kate happened.
Pulling on a Hellions t-shirt and fastening the button on my jeans, I hurried to the door when I heard the knock.
“Hey,” Whitney said, her eyes dropping to the band name on my t-shirt. She paused, adjusting her purse on her shoulder, indiscreetly staring at my arms next.
I curiously followed her gaze to my tattoos. “Hey, I’m ready to go. I just need to grab some shoes—”
“Can I come in?” She sent me a nervous glance. If I didn’t know any better, she looked…shy. I wasn’t sure why, but it struck me as odd. Maybe it was because my initial impression of her—including seeing her at Pete’s, before we officially met—was that she was anything but shy. Everything about her oozed confidence. Liveliness.
“Oh, sure. Sorry, thought you were in a rush to get to Emma.”
“It’s okay,” she said meekly, wandering inside when I stepped aside to give her room. She studied the walls, taking in the posters and photos I’d tacked up. “You apologize a lot, do you know that?”
“I do?” I shut the door when she was fully inside my flat, feeling my pockets for my pack of smokes. Seeing this gorgeous girl in my place made me itchy for a smoke. I hadn’t invited a girl here since I’d moved in. With the exception of the strippers Jackson had brought around for my housewarming party, my time with females had been pretty sparse.
“You do. You should stop doing that.”
“Sorry.”
She turned to me and arched a brow.
“Soooo….”
“Is that the name of your band?” Whitney gestured to my t-shirt.
She wanted to talk about my band? Her best friend was having some sort of crisis. Wasn’t that what this was about? “Oh,” I glanced down, tugging at the shirt. “Yup. Was my band.”
“Judging by your performance on the dock yesterday, I’m guessing you guys were pretty good.”
“We weren’t bad.”
She pursed her lips and nodded, swiveling around to continue her survey of my modest living space. Her arms were folded tightly across her chest as she strolled around. Letting out a long, deep breath, she dropped her hands to her sides when she reached my DVD collection. “Downton Abbey?”
I jolted forward, clearing my throat. “Yeah, it’s uh…it’s a good show.”
She arched her brow again, this time showcasing that pretty grin and sexy dimple of hers. “Now this seems a little more like something I expected to find in your apartment,” she said matter-of-factly, finding and lifting a black, lacy bra from the edge of the TV stand. She let it twirl and dangle from her finger.
Shit. I hadn’t bothered picking up since Jackson had thrown that party.
“Why, Carter from Seattle, are you blushing?”
I tugged at my bottom lip with my thumb and forefinger. “I think you’re seeing things.”
“Your pale skin says otherwise.”
I snatched the bra from her hand and tossed it behind the couch. “That’s not mine. I mean, it doesn’t belong to anyone I know. I mean it’s not—”
“Riggghhht,” Whitney giggled. “So were you a ladies’ man back in Seattle, too, or are Jackson’s ways just rubbing off on you?”
“What?” I couldn’t help it. I laughed. “Yeah…neither, believe me.”
“So you’re not seeing anyone? I find that hard to believe.” Her eyes gravitated to my arms again, and then slowly roamed back up to my face. God save the Queen, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think she was flirting with me.
I smiled, narrowing my eyes and moving closer. “No, not seeing anyone. You?”
“Nope. Do you have a girlfriend back home?”
My smile faded. “No girlfriend. Not for a long time.”
“Oh.” Her brows lifted.
“Why is that surprising?”
“No reason.” She shrugged, resuming her stroll around my apartment.
I patted my pockets again, desperate to find those smokes. Where the hell were they? “Aren’t you…didn’t you come here because Emma was in some kind of trouble?”
“Well, truth be told, she passed out right before I left to come get you. I think it was more tequila.”
“Oh no. Break ups and tequila are never a good combination.”
“Well, technically, she and Jackson were never really together. It’s all so stupid.” She sighed. “They should be together, they just aren’t. It’s like all of the odds were against them the second Jackson found her the night her sister died. The timing just never seems to work out right for those two. Anyway,” she popped
a hip and smirked at me, “I really just wanted an excuse to see you again. I like you, Mr. New Guy.”
Well, shit.
I gaped at her for a second, realizing whatever shyness I thought I’d picked up on had most definitely vanished.
“Is that so?”
“Yup.” She held my gaze, sure and steady. “Wanted to see your bachelor pad and say hey. But my phone call wasn’t completely deceptive, though. I really am worried about Emma, and I wanted to talk to you in person. Asking for help on the phone just feels so impersonal.” Wow. I broke contact first, suddenly intimidated by those gorgeous eyes.
“Well, how can I be of service? What happened? She went on a tequila bender?”
“No, that was just the beginning. It started with a bag of Oreos, which led to two boxes of tissues, which led to a little rage fest and then some shredding anything and everything that reminded her of Jackson, and then finally, she resorted to the tequila.”
“Ouch.”
“Yeah, well, all of that is not what concerns me, actually.”
“It doesn’t? Then what is it?”
“She doesn’t want to clean with me.”
I looked at her blankly. “Come again?”
“She won’t clean with me. That’s not normal Emma behavior.”
“Okay, still lost.”
“It’s me and Emma’s thing. Crazy and totally fucking weird, yes, but it’s our thing. When we’re stressed, pissed off, mad at the world, need to think, whatever—we clean. I crank up Red Hot Chili Peppers, fill some shot glasses, and then we throw on some rubber gloves and tackle the floors and counters until they’re so clean you could eat off of them.”
Did this girl just mention Red Hot Chili Peppers, drinking, and cleaning floors all in the same sentence? Because I think I just fell in love a little, if she did. Crazy and weird was my favorite combination.
“Okay, so what does that mean? She’s worse than you thought?”
“Much worse, which is what I wanted to talk to you about…” She shifted nervously and moved to sit on the couch. “The thing is, I don’t just need your help today. I think I might need some help for the next few days. For a while, I’m not sure how long. I guess until she gets through this whole thing. I know you just met me and it’s probably really awkward for me to ask this of you, but I work two jobs and go to school and I can’t be there for her the way I need to be right now. And, well, considering the way you drove her home like that and left her your number in case she needed anything…I figured maybe you wouldn’t mind being my go-to guy. I can’t bring Emma’s mom into this, and I definitely don’t want to get her ex-boyfriend Chris involved. It wouldn’t be a good idea right now.” She yanked at a lock of hair that had fallen loose from her bun then stood to her feet, stretching her arms above her head. My eyes traveled down to her chest.
For crying out loud, where were my damn cigarettes?
“I’m not sure I understand what you’re asking me to do, exactly,” I said.
“I just want to keep an eye on her. Emma’s always been very level headed. She doesn’t get into trouble—like, at all. Karaoke and drinks at Pete’s are the extent of her wild ways, and she’s always taken school, work, and life so seriously. She’s ambitious and hard working. So, to see her this way…I just worry. What she’s going through is about so much more than Jackson. It’s about Jen, her sister. After she died, Emma didn’t grieve fully. I mean, she did go through some of the normal stages of grief, but there were things about Jen’s death that kept her from finding that closure she needed. I think it’s all hitting her now. I think she’s finally processing it, and that Jackson set the whole thing off.”
“Damn. Well, I meant what I said to you on the phone. I’ll help however I can.”
“When I can’t be with her, can you stay with her? Like, while I’m at work, would you mind hanging out and just making sure she has some company? Maybe we can take turns, like shifts, or something? I know she’s just a stranger to you. And I am, too. It’s a lot to ask, but—”
“I’ll do it,” I cut her off. The decision was easy. “You’re not strangers. Jackson is my friend and Emma’s important to him, and you’re a friend by association, so I’m happy to do this. Plus, you say that you like me or something like that. How can I deny you?” I winked playfully and she briefly looked down at her shoes. Those green eyes didn’t stray from mine for long, though. She quickly lifted her gaze again and leveled it with mine, her thankful smile piercing me with sincerity.
“I don’t want to interfere with your work schedule or anything. If you could just swing by before you go in or after you get off, that would be great. Shit,” she mumbled, chewing her lip and looking off in the distance, “you’re without a car or something now?”
“It’s fine. I can take the bus. I’ve already looked up the route and bus number I need to catch to get around the island when I need to run errands. And Jackson’s asking around about a car I can buy. We’ll figure something out.”
“Okay, well in the meantime, I can give you rides. How about I pick you up before my work shifts and just drop you off at her place—except for when you have to work, of course?”
“Sounds like a plan.”
Her baby greens fixed on me, carefully assessing me as she continued to chew on her bottom lip. “I don’t know what brought you all the way to Sanibel Island, but whatever it was, thank God it did. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate your help with this, Carter.”
I fought the urge to clear my throat, forcing down the discomfort that so commonly arose whenever my motive for moving to Sanibel came up. I watched Whitney watching me, and something in her smoky green stare told me she knew there was more to my story than I had let on during our introduction. She was right, of course, but I wasn’t about to elaborate.
***
“She’s still sleeping?” Whitney asked as she walked in Emma’s apartment door. I was lounging in the living room, scribbling some lyrics on a piece of paper for a new song I was working on. Whitney and I had made it through the weekend babysitting Emma, but it wasn’t really necessary. Since the tequila incident the day Whitney had come to ask me for help, Emma had remained holed up sleeping in her room, with the exception of a few trips to work and school, courtesy of me and Whitney. We’d wheeled her out and stuffed her into the car, encouraging her not to miss any classes or work shifts, but today was different. There was no use trying to force Emma out of bed. She wasn’t budging, and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it.
“Yup. And she locked the door a few hours ago, so I couldn’t drag her out of there even if I tried.”
Whitney placed a bag of groceries on the kitchen counter with a sigh. I stood and joined her in the kitchen, checking out the same pink and white ruffled maid uniform I’d seen her wear before, only this time, the ruffled shirt was paired with pants. The sexy skirt was gone.
Bummer.
“Well, I don’t work at the diner tonight. And you’re off, right? You wanna order a pizza and watch a movie? I grabbed these groceries on the way home, but I’m too damn tired to cook.”
“That sounds great. I can cook, if you want.”
She pulled her bun loose, letting her inky black locks fall around her shoulders, then started tugging at her uniform shirt buttons to undo the collar. The way the white ruffles along the edge of the shirt loosened gave me an eyeful of her perky little breasts. I adjusted my glasses and turned for the refrigerator, not wanting to go overboard ogling her. But damn, it was hard not to stare.
“You cook?” she asked, kicking her shoes off and helping me load the groceries into the fridge.
“A little, here and there. Depends on how you define cooking.” I smiled, pulling a box of pasta from one of the bags. “Or are you in the mood for pizza?”
“Hey, if you wanna cook, I won’t object. I’m just gonna run and grab a shower, okay? If you need anything, just holler.”
“Cool.”
She disappeared down the ha
ll and I heard the bathroom door close. I finished unloading the groceries, set the oven to preheat, and began to cook up some of the pasta, placing a can of sauce on a slow simmer. Next came the garlic bread. I slid the loaf in the oven and started to reach for some dishes from the top cabinet, pausing when I felt my phone buzz from my pocket.
Kate.
My shoulders slumped. My whole body seemed to deflate at those four letters glaring back at me from my cell phone screen. I glanced down the hall toward the bathroom. The shower was running and Whitney was singing. A small smile pulled at my lips, but it was quickly chased away when the phone buzzed in my hand again.
“Damn it,” I mumbled, moving toward the front door. I spotted and snatched my smokes from the kitchen table. Maybe it was time to speak to her and get this over with. I couldn’t avoid her forever. If I waited until I felt like talking to her, waited until I wasn’t livid with Ryan anymore, then I might never talk to her again. Because how would I know if I’d ever get over what happened?
I didn’t.
“Hello?” I answered, stepping out the front door and into the apartment building hallway.
“Carter,” Kate breathed, her voice pregnant with relief. “How…how are you? You have no idea how happy I am you picked up this time.”
“I’m doing okay,” I lied. “Just been busy settling into my new life here, that’s all.”
“Too busy to answer a text? To speak to me for five minutes on the phone? Carter, I’m sorry for how I reacted that night. I wish I would’ve known how to handle it, I just freaked. I love you so much—as just a friend.”
There was a punch to my gut. As if she had to clarify that?
“I couldn’t lose you,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “I felt like I had to choose between you and Ryan, and I couldn’t do that.”
“I never asked you to choose, Kate. It wasn’t like that.” I pulled a cigarette from my pack and lit up, savoring the smoke as it rolled from my lungs. Sweet baby Jesus, that was good nicotine.
“But you won’t accept him. You won’t accept that he made a mistake. You know he loves me, you’ve seen it, Carter. You’ve seen he’s genuine. Will you ever be able to accept that I chose to take him back? That the wedding’s back on? That I love him? Because I need you. I’ll always need you.”