by J. Haymore
“Kyle,” I say as Ethan lays me down. This time my voice emerges low and scratchy. There’s so much I want to say—that Kyle is floating aimlessly somewhere, that he might be in big trouble, but I can’t get any of it out.
“They’ve got Kyle,” Ethan tells me. His voice sounds warbled and strange, but soothing anyhow. “He’s going to be okay.”
Only then do I pass out.
* * * * *
When I wake, I’m swaddled in heavy blankets, like a baby. They’re comfortable, warm and cozy. I open my eyes slowly, scared of light, but it’s dim in the room. Ethan is sitting beside me.
“What time is it?” Out of all the questions I have, this seems the least important, but it’s all I can get out right now.
“Just after three,” he tells me, reaching up to smooth a bit of hair back from my cheek. His fingers linger there, caressing my skin as I look around. There are monitors everywhere, blinking lights and beeping noises. I’m in a hospital. My wrist hurts when I move it, and even though I can’t find the energy to move my hand out to see what’s going on, I know they’ve put in an IV.
“Where are we?”
“St. John’s.”
“Oh.”
I close my eyes and am quiet for several minutes, drifting in and out of sleep, reveling in Ethan’s gentle touch as he caresses my face and sifts his fingers through my hair. I realize I am completely dry—even my hair.
“Why am I here?” I ask him eventually. A part of me thinks I know, but my brain is having a hard time keeping up and it’s hard to put two and two together. It’ll just be easier if he tells me.
“You have hypothermia,” he says. “And a concussion. You’re also very bruised up, and there are some pretty strong drugs in your system.”
None of this comes as any surprise. “Right. I knew that.”
He bows his head. “Jesus. I…” He chokes up and I watch him, wanting to comfort him as his shoulders heave, but I’m wrapped up so tightly, moving seems impossible.
“It’s my fault,” he whispers. “I should have been here.”
“You are here,” I point out.
“I was…almost too late.”
“But you weren’t,” I tell him. “You came right when I needed you most.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
I spend three days in the hospital. After they get my body temperature back to normal, I spend most of the time sick and with terrible headaches from the concussion, and from coming down from the drugs. I insist I’m well enough to leave, but they want to make sure I’m stable and the drugs are out of my system. When they told me about the drugs Justine had somehow slipped into my champagne, I didn’t understand much of it. The main ingredient—MDMA—I’ve heard of but the others with their long pharmaceutical names are foreign to me. I was basically on an Ecstasy cocktail, so it’s no wonder I found everything so amazing, even when so much was going wrong. I’m told it’s miraculous I was able to fight her off. That the drug combination should have made me weak and docile.
I was weak and docile most of the time at the party and in the boat. But when I realized it was her or me, that it was a life-and-death situation, some sort of primitive instinct overruled the drugs, and I did what I needed to do.
On the second morning, Ethan, who has not left my side, tells me Justine is dead. That she drowned and that they found her soon after they found me. I knew this already, but still I burst into tears. Ethan holds me and rocks me while I sob that it’s my fault, that I killed her.
“You had no choice, Tara,” he tells me. “You did what you had to do. You stopped her. It was the only way…”
He keeps whispering these reassuring things to me, and the horror that I feel over having killed another human being condenses into a dark kernel of pain inside me. It will never go away, but like Emily’s and my parents’ deaths, I will eventually learn to live with it.
On the third day, Monday, I’m feeling much better physically. Kyle, who’s already been discharged, comes to see me in the morning. Ethan discreetly goes out to give us some privacy. Kyle sits in the chair by my bed and is silent for a long time, staring at his lap, where his hands are clutching his jean-clad thighs. Finally, he raises his head to look at me, his green eyes glassy.
“I’m so sorry, T.”
I shake my head, which still sends pain zinging around my skull. “Don’t be sorry. It’s not your fault.”
“It’s totally my fault,” he says flatly.
Maybe he and Ethan should have a contest to see who is more responsible. But I know there’s only one person who’s truly at fault, and that’s Justine.
“I invited her,” Kyle continues. “I let her drug both of us and then inject me with fucking Ketamine.”
The reason Kyle passed out in the Zodiac was that Justine had injected him with a high dose of the drug Ketamine, a date-rape drug that is sometimes used by vets to anesthetize animals. She gave the same thing to both the bodyguards as well, luring them one at a time into one of the cabins and injecting them with enormous dosages. I’ve heard they’re recovering, though, and I’m glad they’re going to be okay.
“You know…I was awake,” Kyle says thickly. “For part of it, at least.”
“You were? You looked completely unconscious.”
“I heard all these strange sounds, and I was totally tripping on them. I think…” He takes a deep breath. “It sounded like some sort of cosmic music, but I think it was you and Justine fighting. When I opened my eyes, it was quiet. You were both gone, but I was too fucked-up to figure out why there might be anything wrong with that. I kept seeing dark animals, spirit-like dolphins, leaping over the boat and smiling at me. I just lay crumpled there for I don’t know how long. I couldn’t move at all.”
“Were you scared?” I ask him.
He shakes his head. “More…confused. At first, at least. Then the moon came out from behind the clouds and had a fucking conversation with me, and I was just in awe.”
I snort softly. “What did the moon say?”
“He said I was a worthless son of a bitch loser who needed to get a job.”
I raise my brows.
“But then he said I could go for a ride on him and that it would be even better than riding a wave.”
“Wow,” I say softly. “Did you end up riding him?”
“I…can’t remember that part.” He looks down at his lap again. “She wanted to make it look like we’d done drugs and did something stupid, and you fell overboard and hit your head and drowned…”
“Right.” I frown. Then realization crashes into me like a wave. “Oh my God. It was her.”
“What was her?”
“My drug test results at Continental Bank. She must have messed with them somehow to make them think I was taking methamphetamines.”
“That makes sense. That would be further proof of your ‘drug problem.’ How fucking convenient.” He’s breathing fast, trying valiantly to control his emotions. His fists curl and uncurl repetitively on his lap. I reach out and grasp his wrist and squeeze.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers, blinking hard as if to fight back tears. “I really fucked up this time. Will you ever forgive me?”
“I’ve already forgiven you, Ky. We’re both alive, and we’re both going to be okay. That’s all that matters.”
* * * * *
Ethan doesn’t leave my side, but he works on his laptop and on the phone for most of Monday. In the afternoon, he moves from the table where he’s been working over to the chair by my bed.
“Hey,” he says softly. “I want to show you something.”
I lay down my e-reader and take the laptop he lays on my lap.
“What is it?”
He hesitates. “First, I need to tell you why I flew up to San Jose on Friday.”
“You were working, right?”
“Not exactly. I went up there to deal with the Justine situation. I didn’t like the fact that she’d approached you at the store like that. I was going to
go to her father and try to figure out what she was up to. But when I landed, my phone wouldn’t turn on. AT&T claimed I hadn’t paid my bill, which was bullshit.
“I knew immediately that Justine was responsible. Leave it to her to find a way to hack into AT&T and change my payment records. She didn’t want me to be reachable, and if she didn’t want me to be reachable, then she had something planned. Something to do with you.
“I didn’t even go to her father’s house. I got on the next plane back to LA. By the time I landed, Donna had gotten my phone back online. It was then I got your messages.”
He swallows hard. I don’t say anything. I’ve wanted to hear this story for a while, but I’ve been too sick to ask.
“That last text—the one with all the misspellings—”
“Wait, what? I texted you? What did I say?”
“You said…” He recites as if from memory. “That you wished I was there. That there was something wrong with Kyle, that you were stealing a boat, that you loved me. You said I was the best or maybe I was the beast—that one I couldn’t figure out.”
“Really?” I have no recollection of this text.
“Really,” he confirms. “The spelling and tone were off. You wouldn’t text me like that, even if you were drunk. So I called the Coast Guard and told them the situation, that I was sure there was something going down outside of Marina Del Rey. I hauled ass down to the marina and got myself onto that helicopter—”
“How?” I ask.
He shrugs. “I made it happen.”
I smile.
“The Coast Guard had radioed the Aphrodite, who confirmed that the three of you were missing, as was the Zodiac.”
“So you went looking.”
“Yeah. You know the rest. We found Kyle first, then you.” He doesn’t mention how they found Justine afterward. “The Aphrodite went back to port, where they discovered Roger and Jim high off their asses and locked in a cabin, and the bartender was questioned and then arrested for spiking your and Kyle’s drinks.”
“Good,” I say softly. Only a true asshole would do that to someone, no matter how much money Justine had offered him.
After a moment, Ethan continues. “For the last couple of days, I’ve been in constant contact with Justine’s father. Justine was wily, and she was a computer genius. No one could hack her files.” He looks at me grimly. “No one, that is, except me.”
He gestures to the laptop. “When you open that, you’ll see Justine’s diary from the time we met in college. It’s not going to be fun reading, but you need to read it all.”
I’m suddenly scared, and I look at the laptop like it might bite me. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah. It’s going to answer your questions.” He pauses. “All of them.”
“Okay.”
“I’ll be right here.”
“Right.” He’s been right here for me since the moment I was lifted out of the water, and I love him even more for that. I wrap my hand behind his neck and pull his lips down to mine. I kiss him softly and whisper, “I love you.”
Then I open the laptop and begin to read Justine’s diary.
September 24, 2002
My first diary entry
My head is exploding with so many things to say, so many things to celebrate and be excited about. If I were to tell one of my friends—my many new friends—or him…they’d probably have me committed, that’s how excited I am…
I read and read, and all the while Ethan sits beside me, holding my hand while I scroll down with the other. Toward the end, I look up, tears filling my eyes, and whisper, “Emily?”
Ethan nods, his expression taut, his control clearly close to breaking.
I lean back and close my eyes.
All this time, I thought the accident was caused by a defect with the brakes in Emily’s car. In the past couple of weeks, I’ve wondered if it was Mick who’d tampered with them. Now, I know that Justine orchestrated it all.
My God. How far can a person’s obsession go? To the end, I guess. Till the last bit of life whispers from her body.
“It was her,” Ethan whispers. “Justine killed your sister.” His voice is ripe with emotion as he says this, as if these were words he never expected to hear himself say and now that they’re emerging, he wishes he could take them back.
“Yeah,” I croak out.
“A part of me…some tiny part of me knew,” he says. “I thought what if it wasn’t an accident? What if someone tampered with the brakes? What if it was Justine…?” He looks down, pressing the bridge of his nose between two fingers. “But then it was ruled an accident because the brakes had been recalled, and I told myself that was what it must have been. That it couldn’t have been Justine. That she wouldn’t…”
“She did.”
“Yes,” he says. “She did.” There is so much pain in his voice, I want to hold him. But this ugly diary is still in front of me, and I need to finish it. But first, there’s something I need to know.
“When all those things started happening on the Temptation, did you think Justine might have been responsible?”
He nods. “It crossed my mind. More than once.” He sounds sick, like he’s on the verge of vomiting, but he pushes the words out anyway. “I thought—I just needed to protect you until we got to Hawaii and then I’d figure things out. But then I started suspecting Mick was up to something. When I hired the PI, I asked him to look into a link between Mick and Justine.”
“Did he find one?”
“No. And then when all that shit came out about Mick’s obsession with your family, I believed it.” He bangs his head lightly against the back of his chair. “I was so relieved to have the ‘proof’ that Justine wasn’t involved.” He shakes his head, his lips twisted in anguish. “This is all my fault. If I’d thought of how her mind worked, how easily she could manipulate—”
I curl my fingers around his fist and squeeze. “Stop,” I say quietly. “She outsmarted all of us.”
“But I know Justine. I knew…her.”
His voice breaks, and I suddenly understand what this must feel like to Ethan. He must have loved Justine once. To have her turn into such a monster… God, I can’t even imagine.
“I’m sorry,” I murmur.
He shakes his head, and his eyes shine as tears brim in them. “It’s because of me that Ginny and Emily and Nalani—”
“No,” I say firmly. “It’s because of Justine that they died. Not because of you.”
He closes his eyes and bows his head, and I know this will be a burden he’ll carry with him forever. I stroke his arm with my fingertips, but we don’t speak. There’s nothing I can say that will fix this for him. I can only love him with everything I’ve got, and I will. I will love him every second of every day we’re together, and I’m never going to stop.
Eventually, I turn back to the diary. When I finish, Ethan takes the laptop from my lap and sets it aside. Then he climbs into the hospital bed beside me and pulls me against him, taking care to be gentle with my IV. I curl my body into his, and we fit ourselves together in that familiar, comforting way.
“I don’t deserve you,” he whispers.
I close my eyes and think about all the times I’ve thought that I didn’t deserve him. Truth is, and I truly believe this now, we deserve each other.
Ultimately, though, love isn’t about who is better or who is more deserving. It’s about finding someone who makes you whole. Who patches up those cracks of pain and imperfection, smooths them out, and makes you complete again.
I was broken once. But finding Ethan put me back together, mended me in ways I never thought possible. I am stronger than I was when I was a little girl innocent to all the bad things that can happen in this world. I am stronger and smarter and more whole than I’ve ever been before.
I snuggle deeper into his arms. “I was meant for you,” I say simply.
Epilogue
Two months later
I wake up cradled in the warm cocoon of E
than’s arms, feeling his erection pressing against my backside. I glance at the clock on the bedside table. There’s time before I have to get ready. I turn and kiss him until his eyes open and a lazy smile appears on his face. I love his smiles. I’m seeing more and more of them these days.
“Good morning,” he murmurs.
“Good morning,” I reply, rubbing my butt against him.
He takes control, pushing me to my back and moving over me, trailing kisses along my jaw and down my neck. He sucks the tip of my breast as his hand glides up the inside of my thigh to my center, where his fingers slip over my already wet sex. I arch up, pressing myself against his hand. “I need you,” I whisper.
He’s inside me before the words are fully out. We both gasp as he fills me, and my eyes nearly roll back in my head at the exquisite pleasure.
“Nothing,” he murmurs, cupping my cheek until I open my eyes to look up at him. “Nothing is better than this.” He looks down at me with stormy blue eyes. “Than being inside you. Than being joined with you.”
He starts to move, a slow guide that sends sweet sensation through me, wrapping around my heart until my body feels like it’s glowing with pleasure and with love. I close my arms around him, and we move as one. That sweet feeling grows and expands until my whole body trembles with it. And then I’m flying, high up in the sky, wrapped in the most inexplicable feeling of pleasure. Ethan comes with me, and we fly together, soaring above the clouds until we drift slowly back to earth.
“I love you,” he whispers in my ear.
We hold each other for a long time in silence, until I need to get up and get ready for the day. I shower and dress, do my hair, and put on some light makeup. When I come out of the bathroom, Ethan, who’s put on some jeans and a T-shirt, looks over to me, smiling. “You look amazing,” he says. I grin, because he says the exact same thing to me every morning.
“Want some coffee?” he asks.
“You know I do.”