I picked up my half-empty bottle and made my way towards her, trying to steady myself as I walked.
She glanced up at me as I approached. There was no flicker of recognition, just a wary smile.
“Hey,” I said, sitting down next to her.
“Hey yourself.” She had brown eyes. Like Gina.
I brought the bottle to my lips. “You come here often?”
She laughed. “Wow, that's original.”
I smiled at her. “The package is better than the delivery. Promise.”
She reached for her own bottle and brought it to her lips. “Oh, really?”
I nodded. “Really.”
“What makes you think I'm looking to hook up?”
I glanced around the bar. “Week night. Local dive. It's early.” I brought my eyes back to her. “And you're alone.”
She shook her head. “What if I just wanted a drink?”
“Bet you don't.” I downed the rest of my beer and signaled to Carl for another.
She didn't answer, just shook her head and took another drink. But she didn't tell me to fuck off and she didn't get up and move.
I shifted a little closer to her. “You live around here?”
She hesitated for a minute before answering. “I do now.”
“Yeah?” I picked up the fresh beer in front of me. “Just moved here?”
The girl nodded.
“When?”
“About an hour ago.”
I chuckled. “Wow. Not wasting any time finding a watering hole, huh?”
“Something like that.” She smiled but there was something off in her voice, in her expression. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “You?”
“Yeah, I live here. Been here for a while.” I waved my hand in the direction of the door. “Three blocks west. Right on the beach.”
She raised her eyebrows. “On the beach?”
I knew what she was thinking. Prime real estate. Which meant I was rich. She had no fucking idea.
I nodded. “Yep. Walk right out on the sand.” I leaned toward her and I could feel my dick swelling in my shorts. “You wanna come check it out?”
She looked at me for a minute, then looked away. I drummed my fingers on the counter, waiting.
“Yeah,” she said finally. “I want to check it out.”
THIRTY SIX
Kellen
Her tongue was down my throat ten minutes later.
The girl from the bar was in my lap, sitting on the couch, her legs wrapped around me, her mouth fastened to mine. I lifted her shirt and cupped her breast through her bra and she moaned. I thrust my hips into her, grinding against her. I just wanted to get inside of her. Fuck her. Make the pain go away.
“Fuck me,” she said, tearing her mouth from mine. Her tongue found the inside of my ear and she plunged it inside, sending shivers down my spine. “Fuck me, Kellen. Now.”
I yanked on her shorts and she lifted her ass so I could pull them off. She wore a hot pink thong and I ripped that off, hearing the fragile fabric tear as I wrenched it off her legs. She unzipped my shorts and grabbed hold of my dick, pumping furiously. I lifted my ass off the couch and shimmied out of my shorts and boxers, my cock pushing against her thigh.
I needed her. I needed this. And she wanted me.
I froze.
“What did you just say?”
The girl moved against me, wiggling her ass, trying to get my dick inside of her.
“I said fuck me,” she whispered.
“No.” I set my hands on her hips and lifted her off of me.
She glared at me. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
“You said my name.”
Her eyes widened a little but she answered quickly. “No, I didn't.”
“The fuck you did.” I stood up and grabbed my shorts.
“Wait.” She reached for me. “Come back.”
“Look,” I said, my voice even as I raked her naked body with my eyes. “You wanna get fucked by Kellen Handler, just come out and say it. But don't pretend. Don't try to be something you're not.”
“I—”
I didn't let her finish. “I've had plenty of chicks just like you. And I'd do you no problem, if that's what you wanna offer. But don't fucking try to play me.”
“I wasn't.”
The buzz wasn't completely gone but I was solid on my feet as I stood in front of her.
“I'm not what you think I am.” My voice was raw.
She reached for her shirt. “You don't know what you're missing.”
I studied her for a long minute. What the hell had I been thinking? Why did I think a drunken fuck session was going to make things better? It never had. In the six months since Jay had died, nothing had made me feel better. Not drinking, not sex. The only thing that had even come close was surfing but even that was bittersweet, the ocean a stark reminder of what I'd lost.
But then I realized something, a little light bulb that suddenly morphed into a fucking flood lamp. There was one thing that had made me feel good about myself, had made me think I just might be better than the person I'd turned out to be.
I looked at the half-naked girl in my living room, another girl whose name I didn't know, who I didn't give a shit about. And I smiled at her, a genuine smile.
“Actually, you're wrong,” I told her. “I know exactly what I'm missing. And I'm going to get it back.”
THIRTY SEVEN
Kellen
I called Trevor the next morning. He sounded a little surprised to hear from me but he kept his cool, agreeing to meet me for dinner that night.
Despite the amount of alcohol I'd kicked back the night before, I'd gotten up early. The girl from the bar had left pretty quickly, tossing her clothes back on while she glowered at me, half-pissed and half-embarrassed. I'd just stood in the living room, arms folded, watching her while she dressed. I locked the door behind her and made my way to my bedroom, collapsing on my bed, Rip jumping up to join me.
And I'd slept. Because I knew what I needed to do.
I met Trevor at a seafood restaurant in downtown Encinitas. He sat at a two-top table by the bank of glass windows that faced west, framing a postcard view of the Pacific. He smiled and stood, shook my hand and motioned to the empty chair across from him.
To his credit, he didn't ask about my abrupt about-face. We ordered dinner and he talked about some upcoming events, throwing ideas out there, gauging my interest. And, to my credit, I didn't dismiss anything. I wasn't an asshole. I listened, asked questions, and made decisions.
After an hour, he and I walked out of the restaurant. We made our way out to the parking lot and he turned to look at me. “Thanks, Kellen. This was good.”
I nodded and shook his head. “Yeah. And, look, I'm sorry I was an ass these past few weeks.”
He waved a hand in the air. “Over and done, man. Don't worry about it. Transitions are tough and it sounds like you were caught by surprise. But it's over and done and we'll move forward.” He smiled. “Gina said you were pretty reasonable once the stubbornness wore off.”
“Oh, yeah?”
He nodded. “Yep. She likes you, man.”
My heart jumped into my throat but I didn't say anything, just listened as he continued.
“Trust me,” he said. “Behind the scenes, we're honest with each other. If she didn't like you, she would've told me. To prepare me. But she was pretty clear. She thought I was getting off easy because you were cool. Pretty sure she wasn't happy about getting pulled to another project when you guys were in the middle of doing this.” He shrugged. “But you gotta do what you gotta do, you know?”
I did. It had taken me way too long to figure it out, but I finally knew what I was supposed to do.
I thanked him again and told him I'd touch base with him tomorrow.
I drove home and instead of watching TV or cruising surf sites, I shifted my attention to the next thing on my list. I grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge, positioned myself on
the couch and for the next two hours, I scoured every news source I could find. Not about surfing. Not about public relations.
About Leo Bellori.
Most of the articles were the same. A couple of pieces about his surfing career but most were about the trial. The fight at the beach. A few pictures of him in the courtroom. I dug deeper, trolling local beach papers, trying to find that one thing I knew was missing. I didn't know what it was but there was something Gina wasn't telling me, something that was driving every action she took when it came to me. And I was determined to figure it out.
Two hours later, my eyes hurt from staring at the laptop screen. I'd moved to the kitchen table so I could plug in the nearly dead laptop and my back ached from sitting in the wooden chair. I could recite verbatim what had happened at the trial, could recount every small surfing competition her brother had won but I was no closer to figuring out what Gina was hiding than I had been two weeks ago when I'd asked her about her past.
My phone buzzed and I looked up, startled. It was almost midnight. I reached for the phone. Matty. Checking in.
“Haven't heard from you in a while,” he said. “Or seen your ugly ass in the news. You cool?”
I rubbed at my eyes. “Yeah, man. Just keeping a low profile.”
“You back on track with the tour?”
It took me a minute to answer because I didn't know. I hadn't given the tour much thought at all in the last couple of weeks. I'd had other things on my mind, things I'd needed to sort out.
“I think so.” I hesitated for a minute, thinking back to my last conversation with him. “Hey, remember when I was asking you about Bellori?”
“Leo?”
“Yeah.”
“What about him?”
I expelled a deep breath. “The chick from the PR firm? That's her brother.”
Matty let out a low whistle. “Dude. Serious?”
“Yeah. She sort of alluded to it but didn't want to talk about it. Which was why I asked you.” I wanted to come clean with him, wanted him to know the real reason I'd asked about Leo.
“That was one messed up chick back then.”
I cocked my head. “What? Why? Because of her brother?”
“Well, yeah. Sucks having your brother head off to the pen. Worse that your testimony is what put him there.”
I thought back to what I'd read. “I thought the guys he was with testified against him.”
“They did,” Matty said. “But she did, too.”
“She was there?” She hadn't told me that. Maybe that was what she was hiding. Maybe she'd somehow been involved with the fight. But even as I thought it, I shook my head. There was no fucking way Gina would be caught dead in a fight, doing something stupid. She was the smartest woman I knew.
“Look, the press didn't play this up because the families kept it under wraps. She started her work in public relations early, apparently.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“The dude her brother hit? The guy who died?” Matty paused. “His name was Luke Stewart. Gina Bellori's boyfriend.”
THIRTY EIGHT
Kellen
I didn't sleep that night. Even after I'd crawled into bed and turned off the light and closed my eyes, sleep didn't find me. I spent the night thinking about Gina. Armed with Luke's name, I was able to look him up and suddenly, bits and pieces of the story were there, like puzzle pieces fitting together. I searched images on the Internet and found a few pictures of Gina and Luke together. A lifeguard event – he'd been a lifeguard for Encinitas beaches – and a summer camp where they volunteered together. News snippets from Encinitas High, where they'd both gone to school. They'd both been on the swim team and yearbook. From the few high school pictures I could find, it looked like they'd been a couple then, too.
Luke had looked like me. Not completely, but the resemblance was there. Blond hair and tan. He loved the ocean. He'd never competed but he liked to surf. The completed puzzle was right in front of me and I didn't know how to feel. Sad for Gina and all she'd been through but relieved to know that I'd figured out what she was keeping from me, what she was afraid of. Because I knew. Without a doubt, I knew. She was afraid of losing someone again.
I got out of bed and threw on a pair of shorts. I glanced at my phone but there were no messages. I stared at the date long and hard. I knew what day it was. It had been easy to figure out once I had all the pieces of the story. It was the day of the fight. The day Luke had died, the day Gina's life changed forever. I knew that anniversary would be waiting for me in January. I wasn't there yet and I didn't know how I would react but I knew it would be there, trying to drag me down.
I headed out to the beach to try to clear my head. I didn't grab my board but went for a long run on the sand instead. It was the first time I'd run in weeks and within minutes I was drenched in sweat. It felt good and it gave me time to think. By the time I got back to the house, I knew what I needed to do.
I brought up Gina's contact info and hesitated for just a second.
Then I texted her.
Thinking about you today. Wanted you to know.
She had no idea I knew about Luke and I wasn't going to tell her then. I just wanted her to know she wasn't alone. Because I knew, come January 11th, I would want someone to do the same thing for me as I relived the nightmare at Mavericks.
Five minutes later, my phone vibrated.
Thanks.
It was more than I expected. I'd thought she would ignore it, especially considering how we'd left things. But even if Gina was pissed off at me, she was still professional. And even though I wanted more, wanted her to call and ask me why the fuck I was texting her, I would settle for that for now.
I jumped in the shower, rinsing the sand and sweat from my body, thinking about her and what her day would be like. I wondered what she would do, where she would go. Was she by herself the entire day? Or did she hang out with her other brother?
I got out of the shower and toweled off. I pulled on another pair of shorts and paced the house. Rip watched me from his perch on the couch, his tail twitching each time I passed him. I needed something to occupy me, something to get my mind off Gina. I glanced out the back slider. The waves were choppy, little two foot swells that tumbled on top of each other.
I grabbed my phone and checked the surf report. Most of the Orange County breaks were dismal, nothing but chop. But further south, the report was more encouraging. Stronger swells blowing in, better sets, three to four footers.
I stared at the water for a moment and thought about Gina. And suddenly, I had an idea about what she might be doing that day. I had no idea if I was right but I grabbed my board and my keys and headed out to my car.
If I happened to run into her, it would just be coincidence.
Or something like that.
THIRTY NINE
Gina
I never slept the night before the anniversary. I always tried, but I always ended up getting up in the middle of the night and watching TV, waiting for the sun to come up so I could get the damn day over with.
I barely ate breakfast, unable to force food into my gut. I tried to talk myself into doing something different for a change, pointing out that part of what made the day so unbearable was the fact that I forced myself to go to the last place I wanted to go to, the one place I avoided the other 364 days of the year. But, like the previous years, I lost the argument with myself. It was like some sort of punishment that I wasn't sure I deserved.
I took my time showering and getting ready, then answered work emails that I'd let pile up for a couple of days. When my phone vibrated, I was sure it was Anthony.
But it wasn't.
It was Kellen, telling me he was thinking about me.
I stared at the message. Why the hell was he thinking about me? Today, of all days? Tears welled up in my eyes and I blinked them back. I would not cry.
I looked at the message again. He wanted me to know he was thinking about me. Even
though I'd been a total bitch at the beach, had said my piece and walked away, he was thinking of me. It was almost like he knew what the day held for me. It tugged at my heart, almost made me want to tell him everything I hadn't yet told him.
He'd occupied nearly every waking minute of my thoughts. I played over in my mind all the things he'd said to me on the beach. Not just the sweet things, but the angry words, too. He'd been pissed off at me for leaving him that morning and he'd let me have it. But he'd said tender things, too, things that made me want to launch myself into his arms and hold him tight and beg him to give me a chance, to let him be the one I could try to love. He was the only one since Luke, the only one I could even picture myself being with. And that was the hardest part, the thing I couldn't face, the piece I didn't know how to deal with. Because every time I looked at him, I saw the past. And I didn't want to look at it anymore.
I took a deep breath. There was no way I could tell him any of that. I didn't want to confuse him and I didn't want him to think I needed him, even if I did.
I was a big girl. I'd done this day before and I could do it again.
So I just stared at the screen a minute longer and then typed, “Thanks.” That was all I could bring myself to say.
Part of me hoped he'd text something back, some sort of smartass remark that would make me laugh and shake my head. But he didn't.
I watched the phone a minute longer, willing it to vibrate, to ding. And when it didn't, I stood up. I just needed to get the day over with.
I put on my running clothes and shoes and headed out.
I jogged my way out of the neighborhood, heading west toward the beach. I was about six blocks from the coast and by the time I hit the running path and headed south, my muscles were warm and loose and I picked up the pace. The bikers and rollerbladers were out in force, enjoying the afternoon sunshine, and I settled into an easy rhythm. Thirty five minutes later, my breathing a little labored, I slowed my pace to a walk.
It was a quieter stretch of town, tucked away from the stores and heavy residential areas, the nearest houses a half a block up the road. The beach was directly to my right and I watched the waves break, the sun leaning toward the horizon, the sky streaked with a thin film of clouds.
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