“He’s up there?” I sat up, my hands falling flat on the table.
“Yes, and though he’s trying not to look, he can’t take his eyes off you.”
I thought I had heard him. I could pick out Noah’s voice out of the noise of millions.
“Quinnnnn,” Daniel sing-songed from over my shoulder.
“Someone’s already well on his way to getting lit,” Quinn said, but her eyes looked happy. I craned my neck around. Noah was standing beside Daniel and he leaned over, resting his elbows on the rail of the deck. He was drinking a beer and I watched, my mouth going dry as his biceps flexed into the sleeves of his black t-shirt when he took a drink. The dark shirt set off his hair, pulled back and secured at the nape of his neck, the loose strands tucked behind his ears. His green eyes were bright as they watched me through the “what’s up” head nod.
“Come on up.” Daniel waved, his golden brown hair falling in his face.
“I think we’ll let you boys have your fun,” Quinn yelled back.
“That’s just it. It’s not fun. Jeb is droning my ears off. And the band’s about to start. I need a dancing partner.”
Quinn looked at me over our plates strewn with the debris of fish tacos and the empty chip basket. “You up for it?”
I peered back over my shoulder at Noah. I didn’t want to interfere in his hang out time with his friends, and he offered no indication whether he cared one way or the other.
“Sure, why not,” I said even as I thought of a thousand reasons why not.
Quinn and I dumped our trash then headed up the steps leading to the deck. The music had already started by the time we reached the top, and I got my super cool stamp on my hand in case anyone needed to know I was not legal drinking age.
The deck was loud now that the band was playing. They were a mix of folk and bluegrass and had a pretty good sound. My foot tapped, and though it wasn’t exactly dancing music, Daniel and Quinn were giving it their best shot and doing a pretty good job of it. If their relationship was based on convenience, it sure looked like it was working for them.
Noah was being stupendously nice. He bought me a drink. Asked me about my day. All around genuinely pleasant and infuriatingly distant and it was making me miserable. He hadn’t touched me once. Hadn’t kissed me. Now he’d gone over to stand beside Jeb, leaving me alone to watch Quinn and Daniel in all their cute comfortableness.
As I sat there, some old dude came up beside me, and after a few minutes of more or less breathing down my neck, he leaned over and yelled in my ear, “You look like you want to dance, sweetheart.”
“No thanks,” I said, even though he really hadn’t asked. I turned my shoulder and my attention back to Quinn and Daniel.
I felt a hand run up my right ass cheek. Subtle but unmistakable, followed by a slight pinch. I saw Noah get up from his seat out of the corner of my eye, his face murderous. Jeb stayed him with a hand on his arm. Jeb shook his head and said something to him. It was enough to get Noah to stay put, though I didn’t know for how long.
I pivoted on the stool and smiled prettily into the old guy’s face. It was flushed bright red like he was either really drunk or he forgot the sunscreen today. Probably both. He had a white strip of skin across the top of his forehead his hair didn’t quite cover where he must have worn a hat.
“I didn’t mean any disrespect…” he started.
Oh, the bullshit.
“It’s just my buddy over there said you’re one of those…” he stalled, swallowing the last of his cowardice. “You’re about the prettiest creature I’ve ever seen.”
“One of those what?” I angled toward him and offered him a conspiratorial wink. It was unfair to encourage him. I doubted he would remember any of this tomorrow. But I would, and a girl should be able to enjoy some music and pine over a boyfriend without getting harassed. And I really took exception to the word “those.”
“Those water people,” he whisper-yelled and tried to smile but it was like only half of his face worked. He was completely wasted, and it wasn’t even totally dark yet.
“Is that what your buddy said?” I hid my annoyance under the guise of a sweeter than honey tone. “What’s your name?”
“Dave.” He smiled and sat down on the stool next to me, getting all comfy even as he swayed unsteadily. His eyes remained slightly unfocused. The sleeves on his dress shirt were rolled up over his wrists, displaying the fancy pattern of the cuff. It was one of those three hundred dollar shirts, the same designer Thomas liked to wear. If this guy had kids, and they could see him, they’d be embarrassed for him. Hell, I was embarrassed for him, and I didn’t even know the man.
“Give me your hand, Dave.” I was kind of feeling bad about what I was about to do, but the way his eyes sparked with excitement and he practically started drooling like Felix does whenever he gets a whiff of bacon had me taking his hand. Seriously? Did he think this was actually going to lead somewhere? He had to be older than my dad and he was wearing a wedding ring. His buddies were elbowing each other in the background and chuckling like overgrown frat boys.
I laid his hand on the bar, ignoring the sticky film on the wood. I applied just the right amount of pressure and I could feel the bones in his hand grind together under my fingers. His smarmy smile slowly faded and his glazed eyes unglazed under the pressure of my hand.
“Did your buddy also tell you I was strong? Like super strong.” His eyes got all round with a flash of concern and I kept my smile in place. “I could probably crush your bones if I really tried.” This was not true, but Dave didn’t know that. “Next time it’s gonna be your balls, and if you think I’ve got a good grip, you should feel it when I try.”
His face dropped a few shades of pink and his friends lost their smiles and went back to nursing their beers.
“Now Dave, slink or stumble back to your table and don’t ever talk to me or anyone like me again.” I released his hand, finished what was left of my sweet tea, and without sparing Dave the tourist from freakin’ hell another thought, I walked over to Jeb and held out my hand. “Dance with me.”
He hesitated to take it. Noah slammed his beer on the bar and headed straight for the stairs and the exit, which put me on the verge of tears for inexplicable reasons.
“Caris, I value my life too much to dance with you right now. I held Noah back from that lander—which you handled well by the way— but there’d be no one to hold him back from me.” His eyes softened and a smile touched his lips. “It’s not me you want to dance with anyway.”
Well, it seemed everyone knew my own mind but me. My eyes caught on the back of Noah’s blond head and before I knew it, I was following him down the stairs.
“Noah,” I yelled when I got to the bottom, pushing through a group of people waiting to get their hand stamped.
“What?” He spun around and advanced on me, his eyes fevered.
“I…” I what? Nothing had changed. I wanted him away from me. It was the only way. I couldn’t help it, I sucked at pushing him away.
“I let you take care of that lander when I should have him in the alley shoving his face up his own ass, and then you go to Jeb?”
“You let me take care of that lander? See this is exactly what I’m talking about. I don’t need you to fight my battles for me.” I stared up into his face and that place in my brain that held a bit of magic responded to him.
“Stop it,” he said, and I swear I felt the bite of his words on my skin. “Don’t you dare sing to me like that. Not now.”
“I’m sorry.” I stamped it down and it was almost like my Song had a will of its own and it wanted to sing him back to me. My own mind was going against me. It was then I realized I was fighting a losing battle. Noah was mine and I was his and I didn’t think there was a thing I could do about it.
“What do you want from me? I already told you, I’m not interested in any halfway bullshit.”
“I want you to swim with me. I want you to touch me.” Mostly that. I
bit my tongue before I ended up on my knees begging. I was starting to sound pathetic.
“Now you’re talking out of both sides of your mouth. Sorry. I’m not gonna do friends with benefits either. Go hit up Jeb, I’m sure he’d be down for it.” He turned his back on me and started walking off toward the parking lot across the street.
“Noah!” I called, and his name was a sound of total and complete frustration because I was too afraid to say I wanted always. Noah had said always.
Without stopping, he turned around and shrugged, his arms akimbo, a knowing smirk on those lips I wanted to kiss so bad I could taste him.
And he knew it.
* * *
A few sleepless, miserable nights later, Mrs. Jacobs brought dinner. I answered the door, though at this point Noah and his mom were so much like family knocking was unnecessary. Noah was loaded down with casserole dishes and a couple of grocery sacks. Mrs. Jacobs carried two bottles of wine.
My heart lurched when my eyes met Noah’s. I’d missed his face so much. I expected to see the same teasing challenge he’d delivered the last time I’d seen him when I couldn’t tell him what I wanted, but none of that was present. His eyes were dull and sad and he walked like he hadn’t slept in days.
“Hey Noah,” I said, holding the door open.
“Hey.” He shuffled passed me and I followed him into the kitchen where he unloaded the food and sacks on the island with a tired sigh.
“Noah, what is it?” I asked after Mrs. Jacobs had deposited the wine on the counter and gone to join my dad and Thomas on the patio.
“Nothing.” He looked at me briefly. I wanted to hug him. Bury my nose in his chest and never let go.
“Noah.” I took his hand as he made to pass and he stopped, staring down at our joined fingers. I bent my knees so I could look into his downcast eyes, forcing him to look at me.
“I don’t like this game anymore. You’ve proven your point. I’m sorry. I don’t want halfway either. So, please, talk to me.” Whatever was bothering him wasn’t about us. This was something different.
Before Noah could say anything, Thomas, my dad, and Mrs. Jacobs filed into the kitchen.
“Lara, this smells delicious,” Thomas said, grabbing five plates from the cabinet. He still wouldn’t let my dad reach for anything or lift more than his toothbrush. I expected Noah to move away from me at the intrusion, but he settled his hips against the counter behind him and pulled me with him. His arms came around me and I sank into his body, hard and solid at my back. His lips, when they brushed my cheek, were soft, his hair like silk when it fell on my neck and shoulders. I hugged his arms to me and we stood there pressed together, letting the space of the last few days melt away while my dad opened a bottle of wine and poured the glasses.
“Lara, your culinary skills are impressive. Have you thought about opening a restaurant?” Thomas asked as he uncovered one of the dishes Noah carried in.
“You haven’t even tasted it,” she said around a smile and a wink at me.
“I don’t need to taste it. I recognize art when I see it. You’re an artist and food is your canvas.”
“Here, Thomas,” my dad said as he refilled Thomas’s glass. “Have another.”
My heart was near to bursting with relief. My dad was alive and glowingly happy. Noah’s heart beat steadily at my back, his arms holding me close. Every now and then I would feel his breath in my hair as if he were smelling me. If the adults weren’t here, I’d turn around and lay one on him.
Mrs. Jacobs dished each of us a plate and we carried them into the dining room. Noah sat beside me and though I felt more together with him than I had in days, a part of him remained untouchable. Though a smile teased his lips, it didn’t touch his eyes. He picked at his food, and he never picked at his food. He was usually a more than human vacuum. What wasn’t he telling me?
“Thomas is right, Lara. This is better than anything I’ve had at Rendezvous,” my dad said.
“You know Blue Water Bar is about to go out of business. It’s the perfect location,” Thomas mused, almost to himself.
“If Blue Water Bar is so perfect, why is it going under?”
“Because the food is crap.” Thomas eyed Mrs. Jacobs across the table, ideas churning. He took another bite of cioppino, loaded with fish, clams and mussels, nodding his head as he chewed. “This is defiantly not crap.”
“Uh oh,” my dad said. “I know that look. He’s scheming.”
“You could add an outdoor seating area.” Thomas pointed his fork at her.
“I don’t know anything about owning a restaurant,” she said, even as her eyes sparked with interest.
“You’d be the chef. All you’d have to do is create marvelous dishes,” Thomas said.
“And who would run the business side of things?” she ventured.
“I would. We’d start small of course. Better to have a small place packed out than a bigger one only half full.”
While they talked, I watched Noah not eat this delicious food they were talking about. After a few minutes, he leaned over and whispered in my ear, “I need to be outside.”
“Excuse me,” he said, overly formal for this group, and pushed from the table.
Mrs. Jacobs touched the hand he slid over her shoulder on his way out, a silent communication passing between them. Her eyes followed him to the door.
“He’s awfully quiet tonight. Is he okay?” my dad asked.
“Yes.” Mrs. Jacobs wiped her mouth with her napkin, her usual grace hidden under the sudden stiffness of her movements. Like it hurt to move at all. “It’s Jamie’s birthday. He would have been twenty-two today.”
My heart hurt for both of them. I resisted bolting from the chair, unsure if Noah would rather be alone. He hadn’t gone far. He stood on the patio, hands resting on the back of one of the chairs, eyes focused on the gulf as if he expected Jamie to come striding out of the water.
“Oh, Lara. This must be such a hard day for you. Both of you. And you cooked for us.” Thomas picked up the bottle of wine and refilled her glass, his expression soft with sympathy.
“You found me out,” she said, trying and failing to find a casual tone. “It was purely therapeutic. It helps to keep extra busy. Do something for someone else.”
Noah slowly turned and looked at me through the glass door.
“I’ll go talk to him,” I said, scooting from the table. But I was already talking to him. Singing to him. He watched me as I slid the glass door open and closed it behind me. His eyes stayed on me as I grabbed his face in my hands and pulled it down to mine so our foreheads touched, as if that somehow would help him hear me better.
“I’m so sorry, Noah. I know you miss him.”
“I woke up feeling so empty today.” The hollowness in his voice broke my heart. “I didn’t even want to get out of bed.”
I couldn’t imagine what it felt like to lose someone that close to you. Those hours waiting to hear whether my dad was alive or dead were the worst of my life. If the outcome had been different, I’d have been devastated. And Noah had survived that kind of loss twice, first with his dad, then his brother. I knew it hadn’t been easy. I understood the blame he placed on himself. The guilt. I’d felt that with my dad, and that’s what I was trying to avoid with Noah. The hurt of losing someone you loved. And despite his losses, he was fully prepared to invest his heart in me. Love me. Not a little, but wholly and completely, and I’d been a fool to turn away from that. He was so much stronger than I would ever be.
And his grief amplified my secret. Telling him what I thought I knew about Jamie would only open all that hurt back up, exposing him to more pain. It would put him at risk. I knew then that I couldn’t tell him. I’d lose him if I did.
Twenty-Two
Like most mornings lately, the end of the world beckoned me from my bed.
The sand was soft under my feet as I trotted down the path behind my house, the air of the predawn cooler and lighter than previous mornings. I dove
into the calm surf, letting the gulf water wash away the last vestiges of sleep.
I’d been to Sol’s boat so many times I could make this swim in my sleep. He always anchored in the same place, as though offering me an open invitation. Instead of using the ladder like I normally would, I kicked my feet, gaining speed, and propelled myself out of the water. Crisp air hit my damp skin and I landed on the deck of the Muerte Blanca, smiling to myself. Not half bad for the first time. The scent of dreamweed wafted on the air, and I turned toward the firing of the tip of Sol’s blunt.
It wasn’t Sol sitting in the dark, watching the sky. It was my uncle.
“What are you doing here?” My skin pebbled in awareness. Things I’d rather forget churned through my mind. His smell. The lie in his blue eyes. His distain of me.
“Waiting for you. Your patterns are too predictable, Caris. It makes you an easy target.” His smooth, easy voice coasted in the dark.
Footsteps sounded behind me. A shadow moved at the stern. Sterling’s little minions, no doubt with guns. I hated guns. I hated him.
“Where’s Sol?” My eyes scanned the deck of the boat, strained through the cabin windows, seeing nothing. Then I found him, slouched in the corner of the deck on the opposite side from where I stood. His back leaned against the side of the boat. His head ballooned over his shoulders like it was too heavy for his neck. My name whispered through his mouth. He tried to look at me, but lacked the ability to focus.
“What did you do to him?” I asked, though I had a pretty good idea.
Sterling reclined in one of the seats, one foot propped up on the cushion as if this were a joy ride. He held a knife in his hand, the blade coated with a smear of blood and something lighter.
“Dreamweed in certain forms makes for a good sedative,” he said, eyeing me through the dark.
I knew that firsthand. Sol had cut me once with a knife laced with it. I didn’t envy the headache he was going to have tomorrow. Assuming we got out of this in one piece. A set of lights cut on, one green, one red, and I saw what I had missed in the dark. Sterling’s boat, floating not twenty yards away, a handful of men lining the rail. I wondered for a fleeting moment who they were. What they hoped to gain backing Sterling in his stupid schemes. If they rallied behind his talk of war.
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