Island of Second Chances

by Cara Lockwood

  The wind howled outside, but he suddenly didn’t care. All he wanted to do was trace the lines of her body with his fingers and be inside her once more. The need to feel her, to take her, was suddenly so urgent he began tugging off her clothes, impatient to feel her skin on his.

  Outside, the tropical storm closed in on the island, whipping palm leaves, but here, inside, the noise only felt like a proper soundtrack for their lips meeting in a roar of need.

  God, he wanted her. He wanted her now. He wanted her forever. Had it ever been like this with anyone else? He couldn’t remember a time when he felt so desperate for someone, so blindly needing their touch.

  Laura met his lips and his tongue with a ferocity that continued to surprise him as he pushed her gently down on the bed. She wiggled away from him, climbing on top, as she straddled him in a way that made all his senses come alive. Soon, she’d undone his damp shorts and shoved them down past his ankles. Then, she gently took off her own T-shirt, revealing full breasts in a lacey bra.

  He cupped her, feeling her delicious weight in his hands. Had she...gotten bigger? Fuller? It seemed so. He reached behind her back and undid the bra strap, and she came tumbling out, beautiful.

  He took one of her nipples in his mouth and sucked, and she groaned for him, making his whole body come alive. He let it go and took the other one, and she pressed against him, and all he could feel was her heat and want. Mark came alive, growing stiff as her mouth found his, and their tongues competed in an ancient dance.

  She pushed her own bottoms off, and then it was just them, skin on skin. He could feel her delicious wetness. God, he wanted her. Wanted her more than he’d ever wanted anything he could remember in his life. He belonged in her. She moved against him, teasing him, and now it was his turn to moan as he felt her silky wetness.

  Then he remembered condoms. How had he almost forgotten again? He reached backward to the drawer on the nightstand where he’d put them, but she reached for his wrist.

  “No,” she said, shaking her head. “No, we don’t need them.”

  “We don’t?” he asked, puzzled. “But...” Pregnancy, he thought distantly, and then the thought evaporated as she moved him inside her. All rational thought disintegrated in his mind like shells pulverized into sand by the endless lashing of the waves. She felt so amazing, so deliciously wet, he didn’t want a barrier any more than she did. She seemed so sure, so confident. His mind thought of a million reasons she could be so sure, but in the end, it was the all-consuming desire that made the decision for him. All he wanted was to get deeper inside her, and he did. Thrust after delicious thrust.

  She cried out almost instantly, a high-pitched come. He decided he’d make this last, make her scream in delight. He wanted to feel her bare, as long as he could. Mark felt at last he’d finally found home, here in this woman. This was where he belonged.

  Finally, when he felt he could hold back no longer, he flipped her over, stomach down on the bed, and began his own journey to quench his need as he took her, harder and faster. God, so good. Then, at the very end, he remembered—no condoms. He withdrew before he came, spilling himself across the small of her back.

  The come was so hard, so fast, he’d almost not had time to withdraw, but now he felt at least he hadn’t put her in danger of a pregnancy. They couldn’t repeat the mistakes of that first night, which had been reckless. Irresponsible. No matter how much she believed she might not carry a baby to term, Mark knew how biology worked.

  Laura lay still and quiet as he gently cleaned her back with his own dirty T-shirt, and then he rolled her up in his arms, spooning her from behind. The wind rattled the boards on the windows, but here, holding her, he felt safe.

  “You could’ve come inside me,” she murmured into his arms.

  He squeezed her tighter. “I know, but...we should be careful.” He thought about after that first time, so hot with passion, how neither one of them had been thinking clearly. He’d never acted so rashly his whole life, and he didn’t plan on repeating the same mistake.

  Laura, back to him, traced the line of his forearm with a delicate finger. “You’re afraid of a pregnancy.”

  “Well...” Of course he was. “Yes,” he admitted.

  “You don’t want any more children?” The question came out sounding small, a whisper almost. He knew what children meant to her, and how she said she was worried she might be getting too old to have them or that her body didn’t know how to have them at all. He knew he had to tread carefully here. But he had needs, too. He had wants. And he had fears.

  “No,” Mark admitted. “After Timothy died, well, all my hopes for children died with him. I’m not going to be like Elle. Trying to replace one baby with another, or so I assume. Somehow, it just...disrespects Timothy’s memory. I’m not going to do that to Timothy.”

  Mark couldn’t imagine having another child, if he were honest with himself. Would that make him love Timothy less? Or even worse, forget him? He couldn’t take that risk.

  “I told myself I wouldn’t have more,” Mark said. “Not ever.”

  “Never?” Laura asked.

  “Never,” Mark echoed, remembering the day he stood at Timothy’s small grave in the city cemetery on the far side of the island. He’d promised his small gravestone that he’d name a boat after him and sail around the world. That he’d never be replaced in his heart, no matter what happened. The more he thought about the possibility of having a baby, the more he worried that he could break his promise to Timothy. And Mark’s memories were the only thing Timothy had. If he forgot Timothy, it would be as if that amazing little boy never existed.

  “More kids aren’t in the plan,” Mark said. “After Timothy died, some well-meaning relatives like my mother-in-law told me I’d have more children and that everything would be okay. But I knew more kids wouldn’t make everything okay.”

  “I remember my sister telling me that after my miscarriage. It stings.” Laura sounded sad, hollow even.

  “Yeah. It does. Because loving a new child seems like it takes love away from Timothy.” He sighed and took a deep breath, his chest pressing against Laura’s bare back. “I don’t want another baby. I want Timothy. I want him back, but since I can’t have him, then I’m just going to honor his memory.”

  “But...Timothy would want you to be happy,” Laura argued, flipping around to look at him.

  “My job is to remember him. To focus on him. I’m the only one who can. Elle isn’t... I mean her memory is foggy at best with all the pills, and now that she’ll have a new baby, she’ll forget him all the sooner. I’m all that Timothy has.”

  “Mark.” Laura said his name like a sigh, sadness lingering in the single syllable. “So that’s the reason you won’t...”

  She didn’t have to say come inside me. Mark knew what she meant.

  “The first time was a crazy accident,” Mark said. “It can’t happen again.”

  “Oh.” Laura sighed, and he got the feeling there was more she wanted to say. But he also knew that he wasn’t in the mood to hear it.

  Yes, he loved her, and he wanted to make her happy. Yet things with them were far from settled. The race, then his plans to sail around the world...was he ready to invite her into that? He wasn’t sure. Hell, he didn’t even know if he wanted to sail around the world now. Laura had turned everything in his life upside down, and he didn’t know what to do, but he knew that some part of him, a big part, liked it. But, having children? That was something he couldn’t even begin to think about. Not now. Not when he still felt like his heart needed to grieve.

  “But...” Laura tried once more.

  “Let’s not talk about it,” Mark said, squeezing Laura tightly to him. She fell silent then, and he hugged her to him as his eyelids grew heavy and he drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

  * * *

  LAURA LAY AGAINST MARK, wide-awake, her mind go
ing a million miles a minute. He didn’t want children. Not now...not ever. Oops, too late, she thought bitterly. She gingerly touched her abdomen. She could almost imagine a little tickle inside her, the baby growing at a rapid rate. A girl? A boy? Who knew? Mark didn’t want a baby. Just like Dean didn’t want a baby...at least, not hers.

  The sadness hit her harder than the high winds outside. How could she possibly tell Mark now that he would be a father? She’d heard the pain in his voice, the determination as well. Laura felt like the baby was a second chance, a way of starting over, a miracle really. If she could hold on to the baby, that is. But she’d do her best.

  Except Mark didn’t want any part of it. He only wanted to be a father to a boy who’d died, not one who might live.

  Laura felt a mix of emotions, each one hitting her in waves. Anger, of course—why couldn’t he see that starting anew, having another baby, wouldn’t tarnish Timothy’s memory, not in the least? Fear—if Mark knew about her pregnancy, would he ask her to end it? Like Dean? She loved Mark, and if he told her to end the pregnancy, she knew she couldn’t. Wouldn’t. She’d leave the island without him and have her baby in San Francisco. Alone.

  Outside, the wind howled, ripping shingles off the condo roof and battering the walls even as her own thoughts swirled in her head. No matter how she imagined it, telling Mark now about the baby would be the worst possible thing she could do.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  THE STORM ROARED OUTSIDE, and the two of them watched news reports until the power blinked out.

  “This happens even in a bad thunderstorm,” Mark assured her. “We’ll be okay.”

  He had brought in the generator from his workshop, and they used it to power a hot plate and their phones, scanning news as they could. In a day, the storm moved through, leaving just a light rain. Eventually, even that stopped as Mark and Laura went out to inspect the damage. Palm leaves were scattered across the beach, lawn furniture was upturned in the sand and a few windows were broken in some of the condos on the second floor.

  “It did some damage,” Laura said, glancing at the debris on the beach as she grabbed a broom to sweep up the glinting glass shards that had toppled down to Mark’s patio. Together, they’d both taken off the boards off his patio door so they could once again move in and out easily. She cleaned and Mark went to inspect his workshop, which amazingly had stayed intact, not a board out of place. The news said the entire island would be out of power for at least another day or two but that the damage from the storm could’ve been far worse. Still, some islanders had lost their homes, crushed under the wind or flooded in the rains.

  As she swept up the last of the glass into a dustpan and dumped it in the garbage can, Mark nodded at her. “We should go check on Timothy,” he said.

  It took her a second to realize he was talking about the boat and not the boy. She nodded silently as her phone pinged.

  “What is it?” Mark asked.

  “Text from my sister. She’s worried about me.”

  “So you two are talking again?” he asked.

  Laura shrugged. “Sort of.” She showed him the text message feed, which was curt and to the point, asking only about whether or not she was okay. “There’s no apology in it, though.”

  “At least she cares if you live or die,” Mark pointed out. “That’s probably more than I could say for Edward.”

  * * *

  MARK WAITED IMPATIENTLY in the slow line of traffic as cars and trucks flooded into the marina’s nearby storage facility with ship owners coming to assess the damage. With dread, he realized that half the roof of the building had caved in. Once parked, Mark jumped out of his truck, barely waiting for Laura as she followed him out.

  Edward and Dave were there, and Mark realized they’d all picked the same storage facility. They were inspecting the Tanner, which looked to be in tip-top shape or at least with just minor damage. Mark pushed past them without a hello. He didn’t have time this morning to pretend he was glad to see them. All he could think about was the boat that bore his son’s name. Please let him be okay.

  Mark ran past two sailboats sitting on a rack, and felt a sinking pit in his stomach as he marched through debris from the roof. Above him, he saw blue sky and clouds where a roof should’ve been. Timothy had to be okay. He just had to be. He skidded around the corner and jogged between boat owners, not able to see Timothy’s mast in the distance and suddenly feeling panicked. Where was he? Where... Mark turned the corner, moving past a crowd standing by a different boat and saw Timothy.

  He skidded to a stop, his heart pounding.

  For a full second, he couldn’t process what he saw. The boat was still upright, yes, but part of the roof had fallen on it. Something was wrong. Very wrong. The mast, a huge piece of tall timber, was broken in half like an upside down V, lying limp and useless across the side of the boat, the lines, loose and lying on the ground.

  In that second, Mark felt all his hopes dashed. Timothy wouldn’t sail in the race. He might not sail at all.

  “Oh...Mark.” Laura was by his side then, clutching his arm, but he couldn’t feel anything. His face had gone numb, so had his arms and legs. Timothy wouldn’t sail. Couldn’t sail.

  “Tough break,” came a familiar voice—Edward’s—behind him.

  Mark whirled, and seeing his older brother, he felt the undeniable urge to punch him in his smug face. “Go to hell,” Mark murmured instead.

  “Mark,” Laura began, but then he shrugged off her touch as well. He couldn’t talk to her, either, couldn’t talk to anyone; the disappointment was so thick, so horrible, all he could do was retreat back to his truck. He could hear Laura running after him, calling his name, but all he wanted was to be alone. His whole future died with that boat.

  * * *

  MARK WOULDN’T TALK to Laura the whole way back to the condo. Laura watched him, clutching the steering wheel, glancing out dead-eyed at the road, not knowing what to say. Sorry just didn’t seem to cover the staggering loss. They hit traffic ahead, the tiny road covered in water as cars crept over low-lying curves.

  “Can it be fixed?” Laura asked, voice soft.

  Mark remained silent for a long second and Laura thought he might not answer her. Then he spoke, still not looking at her.

  “There’s no way a new mast could come in time for the race, even if they postponed it a week,” Mark said. “Even if I could locate one, I’d need special equipment and many hands to put it in place.”

  Laura nodded. “Maybe we could...try.”

  Mark slowed the truck, as traffic up ahead of them ground to a stop while a small SUV crossed the water. He glanced at her.

  “It’s over, Laura,” he said, grabbing her hand. “Nothing we can do now.”

  Laura, however, wasn’t ready to give up. Not yet. She knew what she could do.

  * * *

  WHILE MARK TOOK a shower, Laura borrowed his truck keys and set out for Tanner Boating. She’d called their main office on the way to check that they were still open post tropical storm, and a harried-sounding assistant assured her they were. Edward might not be there, but it was worth a shot. She’d go to his office first, then back to the marina and then, if she couldn’t find him at either place, she’d try stalking him at the Rusted Anchor. Maybe even try to find out where he lived. There weren’t that many residential neighborhoods on this island.

  Laura didn’t know what she’d tell Edward once she found him, but she knew she had to try to solicit his help. Mark would never do it, but Edward owed Mark in Laura’s mind. Edward had taken his friends and his wife, and now, in his time of need, Mark needed him, whether he’d ask for that help or not. She’d told Mark she was going to the drugstore—a lie, though it would keep his suspicions at bay for a while.

  Laura still couldn’t believe the devastation from the storm. Even though it had been downgraded from a hurricane,
everywhere she looked she could see its imprint, from the flooded streets to the downed palm trees and the damaged roofs. Mark’s boat wasn’t the only one damaged, either.

  She had to cross several flooded intersections to make it to Tanner Boating and sent up a small prayer of thanks that Mark’s truck sat so high off the ground. Laura carefully drove through each, all the while too aware how just a little bit of water—half the tire wells—could sweep a car off the ground and into the torrent. She clutched the steering wheel as she drove through the brown water and made it to the other side.

  She pulled into the near-empty parking lot of Tanner Boating, half of the lot beneath murky floodwater, and found a dry spot near the door. The shipbuilding company had a huge warehouse and sat facing the sea. Laura glanced at the sparkling blue-green water, the sun shining brightly in the crystal-blue sky, and thought how odd that just a day ago the island was battered by hundred-mile-an-hour winds. Now it was right back to paradise.

  Laura took a deep breath as she strode to the front door. She swung it open and saw a frazzled woman in her twenties answering phones. Right next to her was Edward, wearing the same cargo shorts and T-shirt she’d seen him in on the dock earlier that day.

  “Laura,” he said, surprised. “What can I do for you?”

  “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about,” she said. “Is there a place we can—”

  “My office,” Edward said, moving from behind the desk. He led her down the hallway to a corner office with large windows overlooking the sparkling blue-green bay.

  “How did this survive the storm?” Laura asked, amazed. So much glass, all facing the sea.

  “I’ve got automated shutters.” Edward grabbed the remote on his desk and hit a button. Metal shutters began to extend from either side to cover the windows and block the sun. He reversed them quickly and then motioned for her to take a seat in front of his large, oak desk. He perched on the corner, one leg up, the other straight and holding his weight.

  Laura was struck by how similar the brothers were physically—the same muscular and lean body types, same brown hair.