This is not keeping my distance.
I watch as the taillights to Celia’s orange Thing round the corner of the lot and disappear. That car has to be fifty years old, I’m shocked it even started. My jaw clenches at the thought of her driving around a tin can—dammit, Aden, she’s not your problem.
Shaking off my unwarranted worry, I contemplate heading to the Office for a drink, but know if I do it’ll be— My gaze darts to movement from the corner of my eye. A man with a full dark beard and heavy coat walks with his head down. Something about him seems off, way off, and way too familiar.
There’s a whiff of smoke.
Gunpowder.
Not real. This is not real!
Alerts sound in my head and I glare at the fucker only to have him glare right back.
“You got a problem?” I keep my eyes on his.
He shakes his head and quickens his pace. “No.”
“Little fuckin’ warm for a trench coat.” I call out after him and he stops and stares. Suspicious asshole. My pulse rockets through my veins and I move toward him. “You got something to say?”
“Do I know you?” the guy asks, and I could swear I picked up a slight accent.
American pig!
“What did you say?” I reach for the waistband of my shorts only to realize I don’t have my gun.
Explosions light the backs of my eyes and mortar fire pounds in my ears.
“I d-didn’t say anything,” he stutters.
“You’re a little far from home, sadiq.” As I get closer he ducks into the fish market.
“What the hell are you doin’?”
I whirl around to the voice from my back. It’s Jenkins with his hands up and his eyes tight.
“Fuck! You can’t creep on my back like that, man!” I inhale a lungful of the warm briny air and try like hell to calm my racing pulse. I search my mind for the sights and sounds of war but what was so real seconds ago is gone.
“Need to get that shit in check, Colt,” he mumbles for only my ears.
I push past him to head to the sanctuary of my boat. “You don’t fucking think I know that?” I step onto the deck only to hear him lumber aboard right behind me. I fist my hands in my hair and then lock them behind my neck. Breathe . . . Breathe. “I’m trying.”
He pulls a beer from the ice chest left over from fishing. “You want any chance with a woman like Celia . . .” He cracks the top and takes a swig. “You’re gonna have to try harder.”
“Who says I want a chance with her?”
“Saw you suckin’ her face off.” He shrugs one bony shoulder and sits down. “Figure you want a chance.”
I blow out a long breath and drop to the padded bench along the railing. “It’s getting better.” It’s not, but I’m avoiding triggers more, like crowds, my family, people in general. They all manage to infuriate me without even trying.
I moved home after my honorable discharge and I didn’t last a week under my parents’ roof. They don’t get it. Fuck, I don’t get it. Jenkins . . . he served in Vietnam. He gets it.
“Can’t keep pushing it down, Colt. That shit you can’t seem to shake? It’ll fester inside you and kill everything you got in life until it’s just you. That’s the bitch of it, ya know? It kills everything . . . everything but you. You got a choice, you wanna live or you wanna die. You pick death, that’s easy. You live. . . .” He takes another gulp from the frosty beer can. “Well, that’s worse than dying, so either way you’re fucked.”
I snag a beer and pop the top. “Anyone ever say you give shitty pep talks, Jenks?”
He grins, flashing black holes where teeth used to be. “I’ve heard that a time ’er two, yeah. Don’t change the fact that you know I’m right.”
“I’m workin’ on it. VA wants to shove pills at me, but I can’t function on ’em, can’t think straight. They want me to talk to someone, but that means going back there in my head, and that shit feels too real.”
“I gotcha’, you don’t have to explain it to me. It’s a bitch. Difference ’tween us is I’m old and past my glory years, you starin’ ’em right in the eye. Still hope for you. But you can’t keep pickin’ fights with anyone who reminds you of the enemy. You want a chance with a good woman, you’re gonna have to try harder.”
“Nah . . . she leaves in a couple weeks. We’re just having fun.”
“Mmmm.” He stares out across the docks.
I shoot him a side glance, not at all comfortable with his silence. “What?”
“Hm? Nothing. Sounds like you got it all figured out, that’s all.”
“Yeah.” I swig from my beer. “I do.”
I can hold it together for a couple weeks to spend time with the woman whose photo I’ve been staring at since I moved here. Then I’ll go back to being miserable, fucked up, and alone.
SAWYER
After fishing all day with Aden I hit a U-Haul for boxes and the local market for some food to stock the fridge. It wasn’t until I got into the shower that my thoughts hit rewind on my day.
What was supposed to be a quick trip to the marina for an apology ended up a day at sea that included sushi and kissing. Lots of kissing.
The memory of Aden’s powerful lips moving against mine force me to cold water to temper my sunburned skin as well as my lust-burned thoughts.
What did he mean when he said he’d want to kiss me tomorrow? The idea of seeing him again, that look in his eyes seconds before he kissed me has me bracing my weight against the tile wall to stay upright. Is it possible to fall for someone so quickly? I dated Mark for six months and never felt so . . . unstable at the thought of his mouth on mine.
Climbing out of the shower, I dry off and cover my tender skin with a healthy amount of lotion. It’s finally dark out and my eyes are dry and heavy, but I can’t go to sleep until I talk to my sister.
I dial her number while crawling beneath the covers. My cell phone practically tingles against my palm knowing Aden’s number sits there just waiting to be used. Even pretending to be my fearless twin isn’t enough to get me to push the right buttons. Calling him now would seem too eager. I’m afraid of what I’d say if he answered. Afraid he wouldn’t answer. Terrified he came to his senses in the few hours of separation and reject me.
“Hey, I’m busy vaccinating orphans in India, so leave a message.”
Before I open my lips to do just that a call beeps through on my other line. Celia’s face and big smile take up the screen.
“I was just leaving you a message.”
“I’m moving a little slower and my phone only gives me two rings before the fucking voicemail picks up. But enough of that, tell me how you’re loving being me.”
She sounds tired. I check the clock that’s shaped like a pineapple. It’s just after eight-thirty. “Did I wake you?”
“Sawyer, we can talk about my sleep patterns when you get home. Tell me about your day.”
I curl up onto my side and can’t fight the smile that’s splitting my face. “Oh my God, Cece, you’ll never believe what I did.”
She laughs soft and low and I can tell she’s probably curled up in the same position. “What’s his name?”
“Aden Colt.”
“Whoa . . . that is definitely a hot guy name.”
I go on to explain everything from my insulting him to my attempt at an apology, how the coin flip kept me on the boat, and of course the kissing.
“See! I told you being me is awesome!”
Now it’s me who’s giggling and I’m not a giggler. “It really is, but it’s also terrifying. I don’t know how you do it.” A long sigh falls from my lips. “I really like this guy, but he thinks I’m you. So what do I do now?”
“I once told a guy I hung out with in Miami that I was a South African princess named Tina. We had a good five days together and he never knew the truth. No harm, no foul.”
“Tina doesn’t sound like a South African name.”
“Details.”
“So you’re
saying I should . . . that I should just—”
“Don’t bust a forehead vein, Sawyer. Yes, I think you should hang out with him. It’s totally natural to have a quick summer fling with a hot guy at the beach.”
I bite my lip, feeling conspiratorial and kind of loving it. “Shouldn’t I at least tell him the truth? Tell him who I am?”
“Where’s the fun in that?”
I wonder if I should list all the ways spending time with Aden in any kind of a sexual way would be very fun. God, what is wrong with me? That’s so not me!
“Besides, if you tell him now you could piss him off. That would ruin everything. And Sawyer . . .”
“Yeah.”
“I really don’t want anyone over there to know I’m dying.”
My heart squeezes painfully. “Don’t say that—”
“I’m serious. If you tell him you’re not me, they’ll wonder where I am and you’ll tell them and then my whole plan will be blown to shit.” A few beats of silence stretch between us. “Please, Sawyer? You promised.”
“Yeah, okay. It shouldn’t take me long to get done what I need to do, I’ll be out of here before anyone figures it out.”
“Thank you.” She yawns and it triggers a yawn of my own. “You sound exhausted.”
“I was going to say the same to you.” I snuggle deeper into the bed.
“I want daily updates.”
Another yawn crawls from my throat. “I know, I’ll call you every night.”
“Love you.”
“Love you too.”
I fall asleep shortly after with the phone still clutched in my hand and visions of Aden sailing through my mind.
EIGHT
SAWYER
The sound of a garbage truck in the alley pulls me from sleep. I blink open to sun shining through the window and stinging my bright red forearm. The events of yesterday flood back and pull my lips into a wide grin.
As much as I could lie under the covers obsessively reliving Aden’s kiss, my to-do list creeps in and pushes all thoughts of sexy sailors and summer flings aside.
After three cups of coffee to wake myself up and another liberal application of lotion to my crispy skin, I begin to sort Celia’s things. I assumed the process wouldn’t take more than a few hours, but I keep getting distracted. It’ll be a box of keepsakes that sends me to the couch to sort through so that I can learn a little more about my sister’s life, or a photo that makes my chest hurt so badly I have to go outside to get some fresh air.
Which is what I’m doing now.
The photo was of her blowing out birthday candles at what looked like some super-posh restaurant on the other side of the world. If she had any idea that this birthday was going to be one of her last—I suck in the salty air and focus on the crashing waves, trying to take a full breath.
My eyes scan the horizon, taking in the view. The seagulls that perch on the cliffs, some other kind of bird with a long, needle-like bill that digs in the sand by the water’s edge. There’s the cluster of surfers out past the breaking waves, and the occasional jogger that passes by. The wind is cool against my face and I consider going for a walk to try to clear my head, although being alone with my thoughts doesn’t seem to make any of this easier.
I soothe my anxiety by pulling out my notepad, this one rectangular because the sunflower was driving me crazy, and I rewrite my list.
Sort and divide.
Separate valuables.
Infrequently used items first.
Label, label, label.
The thwack of a screen door has me whirling around to see a woman on her porch. It looks like she’s trying to pull a garbage bag from inside but can’t seem to manage it with her walker.
“Good morning.” I make my way to her and her eyes narrow on mine through thick Coke-bottle glasses. I open my mouth to introduce myself, but decide I’ll wait for her reaction to see if we’ve already met, or rather, her and Celia have already met.
“Oh . . . good morning.” She’s out of breath and there’s a light sheen of sweat on her upper lip. “I think my garbage got too full is all.” She’s playing tug-of-war with the screen door and the bag.
I scurry to help her, freeing the overflowing bag and scooping up some of the trash that escaped. “I got it.”
“Thank you.” She leans her weight on the walker. “This didn’t used to be so hard.” She smiles and I return the sentiment.
“I’m happy to take this out for you.”
“Oh no, I wouldn’t ask for—”
“It’s no big deal. Really.”
“Thank you, um . . . oh . . . I’m sorry, I don’t remember if we’ve met.”
Perfect. “I’m Celia, I live in number four.”
“Right, I know I’ve seen you around.” She holds out one hand, fingers curled up with what I’m guessing to be arthritis. “Mrs. Jones, but you can call me Mary.”
I shake her hand gently, not wanting to hurt her. “Nice to meet you, Mary. I’m running to the dumpster. Is there any other trash you need me to take?”
“No, but thank you.”
I open the screen door to help her back inside. The smell of rotting garbage becomes overwhelming and I wonder how long it’s been since she took out her trash. “Are you sure there’s nothing else I can run out for you?”
“No, I don’t think so.” I shut her door for her as she walks deeper into the dark cottage.
Holding the bag as far from my body as possible I race to the alley and heave the stinking mass into the dumpster. Then, holding my hands away from my body, I head straight inside for a long hand wash followed by hand sanitizer because you can never be too safe. In my haste I practically knock over a tiny girl. “Oh crap! I’m so sorry.”
Not a girl. A short woman.
“Celia, you’re back.”
I jerk my head up at the sound of her saying my sister’s name and have a brief oh shit moment because I didn’t have my Celia mask firmly in place. Standing just a foot away with a nose ring and a blond pixie haircut, the petite woman smiles and I immediately recognize her from some of my sister’s pictures.
“It would seem so, yeah.” Wearing a pair of yoga pants and an oversized tee I pulled from Celia’s closet that reads “The Confession Bar, New York, NY,” I hope I’m convincing enough.
She wraps me in a hug. “It’s great to see you.”
I pat her awkwardly. “It’s great to be seen.”
Pulling back she grins wide. “How was your trip . . .” She purses her lips. “Where were you again?”
“Ah . . .” Shit, what did I tell Brice? I clear my throat. “A little bit of everywhere, and then Phoenix.”
“Is everything okay? You took off without a word.”
I stare beyond her shoulder, her inquisitive eyes seeming to see right through me. “Fine, yeah. I’m good.”
She tilts her head. “You seem . . . different.”
“Me?” I allow my body to turn to Jell-O. “Oh, psht, no. I’m good, just . . . hung over from being out all night, you know how it is.” I trail off with nothing more to add because I’ve never stayed up past midnight unless it’s been to watch the ball drop on New Year’s Eve from the safety of my bed.
“Oh yeah, where’d you go?” Her eyes flash with interest and excitement. “I heard Blink 182 played a surprise show at the Casbah. Were you there?”
“Uh . . . no, I was . . . at a bonfire party and everyone was night surfing and there was this ex-football player so we all played football on the beach. It was dark but they used the headlights from their cars and stuff.”
Her eyes narrow and I try not to shift in my flip-flops. “Isn’t that a movie?”
“Hm?” Oh shit.
“Point Break. The movie, you just—”
“What? No. Lame.” I can’t believe I actually thought I could pull this pretending to be Celia thing off! I paste on a big smile. “How’ve you been?”
“All right, I guess. You know me, never a dull moment in the life of Z
öe. Hey, everyone’s been asking about you down at the bar. Think you might be able to drop in tonight?”
“Tonight?” I dip my chin seeing the word confession on my shirt and wishing I could do just that, confess who I am and be done with this stupid charade. I crank my mind back to the photos I saw of this woman and hope they’ll give some hint as to what bar she’s talking about. “Maybe, it depends how much I get done here.”
Her perfectly sculpted brows drop over crystal-blue eyes and she tilts to look through the window of my cottage. “Are you moving out?”
“Yeah, I’m going back to Phoenix.”
She sticks out her lower lip. “What a buzzkill.” The disappointment is short-lived and she grins. “All the more reason for you to come to the bar.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
“Great!” She leans in and wraps me in another hug. “You’ll keep in touch from Phoenix, right? Maybe come out for a visit? Oh! Will you still be here on the Fourth? OB is one of the best places in the world to spend the holiday.”
“Yeah, maybe. We’ll see.”
She pulls back and smiles. “Cool! So I’ll see you tonight?”
“Mmm.” I roll my lips between my teeth to avoid giving a definite answer.
She doesn’t seem to mind and skips away with a finger wave.
I’ll need to figure out what bar she’s talking about. I’d ask Brice, but after that kiss he gave me the first night I’m afraid to bump into him again. God, I’ve been here two and a half days and kissed two different guys.
I didn’t kiss Mark until our second date.
Suddenly feeling naked and exposed I turn and duck back into Celia’s house. Oh my God. I’m a slut! And strangely the idea of seeing Aden again makes my pulse jump in my veins and butterflies race in my belly. He’s the most masculine man I’ve ever known. Not as pretty as Brice, but he wears his male sensuality with the kind of confidence I rarely see on men.
My nerves tingle and stir.
Leave it to Celia to talk me into living as her, and leave it to me to enjoy it. At this rate I may never want to go back to being myself.
ADEN
I managed to stay away from the cottages most of the day. Having no good excuse to go there, I spend my time on the boat doing some minor repairs that I’d been putting off for weeks. I kept my phone in my pocket in case Celia called. And when it buzzed less than an hour ago I forced myself not to answer it on the first ring.
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