I never believed in ghost stories or legends. “It’s not real, Blake.”
“It’s real. The way my dad told it, a sailor was stranded on the shoals after a shipwreck about a hundred years ago. He was able to get out of the ship with a lantern and tried to swim to shore, but the currents out here are unpredictable and he never made it to land. The next day, they found his lantern, but never the body.”
I shivered and inadvertently scooted closer to Blake.
He continued with the tale. “So, the legend goes that the blinking yellow light is him still trying to swim to shore, but no one can ever catch up to it because of the currents.”
“Holy shit. It’s still the creepiest thing I’ve ever heard.” Ok, maybe I was a little scared. I had forgotten all of the tragic stories from the ocean.
“You want me to show you?” Blake placed his hand on the gearshift, ready to maneuver the boat toward the lantern’s light.
“Definitely.”
He laughed and gave me a killer smile that made me glad I’d boarded his boat.
“Hey, Cole.” He called up front, but his cousin was busy sleeping off his beers.
I lightly bit at my lower lip. Something about the way Blake took command of the boat as he stood and steered toward the golden light without reservation made me look at him the way I used to. It was kind of hot.
“Almost there,” he shouted over the wind.
I peered over the console, trying to keep my eyes on the target. The closer we got, the weaker the color was. I squinted harder as Blake slowed the boat.
“Where did it go? It should be here.” I stood, looking over the side of the boat.
“Over there.” Blake pointed three hundred yards east.
Blake reached down and let his hand rest on my shoulder. “I think that’s enough ghost hunting for one night. What do you say I take you home?”
Surprised by the heat that stemmed from my shoulder, I smiled. “Sounds good.”
“Hold on up there!” Blake shouted before throwing the boat into full gear and pointing it toward Aunt Lindy’s pier.
6
Blake
I dropped Sierra off on her aunt’s pier and didn’t even look over my shoulder. I wasn’t supposed to care if she made it inside the house, or if she even fell over into the dark waters.
It was stupid relieving old high school pranks about ghost stories and shit that was from the past.
I chugged the last of my beer and steered us back. Cole could wake up in the morning to a neck full of mosquito bites. I left him snoring on the bow and hopped off.
I didn’t know if I could shake it. If I could pretend she wasn’t here. I drove home with fireworks exploding overhead.
My palm slammed into the steering wheel. My summer was fucked. The peace I needed off the field to be the warrior I needed to be on the field was fucked. The last shred of solitude I had found in my life was fucked because Sierra Emory had decided to come home.
It didn’t matter she hadn’t been seen here in eight years. She never visited her aunt. I heard she didn’t even make the funeral.
And now what? She thought she could parade that tight ass into one of Shirley’s parties and all would be forgiven?
No one around here cared she was some kind of hot as shit reporter in Dallas. Money didn’t impress islanders. Neither did fame. Hard work did. Loyalty. Family. She’d fucked all that up.
And it was time someone told her she didn’t belong on this island.
I drove deeper through the winding streets until I parked outside of the two-story Victorian house.
It had been in Sierra’s family for over a hundred years. The islanders said Aunt Lindy’s father was crazy when he built it. They said it wouldn’t withstand a hurricane or even a nor’easter, but here it was, still standing.
I glared at the white siding and the drain pipe next to the upstairs bedroom. I’d helped Sierra sneak out more than once using the metal as a ladder.
I slammed the truck door, marching up the back stairs. They creaked under my weight.
“Sierra!” I pounded on the door. “Sierra. Open up.”
I heard the lock rattle and then she appeared on the other side of the screen. Her face glistened with tears.
What the fuck?
“What are you doing here?” She wiped at her cheeks with her fingertips.
“Why are you crying?” My shoulders were tense. My neck strained. I had walked up here with a mission to put her straight.
She shook her head. “It’s nothing. Stupid nostalgia I guess.”
“Nostalgia, huh?” I crossed my arms. It was fucking ironic is what it was.
“What’s wrong? Why are you banging on the door?”
“I thought we needed to get a few things straight.”
“Like what?”
“Are you going to let me in?” The screen door was a barrier between us.
Her hand rested on the latch and suddenly the door was open and I was inside the old house.
There were boxes everywhere. Half the furniture was covered in sheets.
The place was depressing.
There was a light on in the kitchen. Sierra leaned against the wooden countertop. “What is it? Did you show up to tell me more ghost stories? Because believe me, I have enough to last the rest of my life.”
“No. No ghost stories. But seeing you is like living one.”
“Ouch.” She lowered her eyes. “How long have you been waiting to say that?”
The anger flowed through my blood like hot lava. Did she have any idea what she’d done to me? Did she know what she’d cost me?
“Too long.” I clenched my teeth.
“Now that you’ve said it,” her pale blue eyes lifted to mine, “you can go, Blake.”
“You can’t throw me out.”
“Yes, I can. It might have been nice for two seconds to cruise around the island and hang out with Cole, but clearly that’s not going to work between us.”
“No. It’s not.” I took a step toward her. The light behind her cast her into a dark shadow, but I could still see the tears glistening on her cheeks.
“So leave then. Let me be miserable on my own. Can’t you do that?”
I stopped in front of her and inhaled the air around us. I could smell her perfume. Her shampoo. I could almost taste the strawberry lip gloss that she’d used to wear on her lips.
“I’m not going until I’ve said what I have to say,” I growled.
Her eyes flared. “Then say it and get out.”
My hand snaked around her waist, pulling her toward me. In an instant my lips crashed into hers as she threw her arms around my neck. The kiss was hot and fiery. Enough to make my cock throb. My tongue found hers twisting and sliding in a rhythm that was at the same time new and familiar.
I tugged her hair through my hands, deepening the contact until I heard that perfect little purr she made. The one I’d never forgotten. The one that haunted me like a damn siren’s song.
My blood raged with heat. My cock throbbed. My hands coasted over her body. And then I realized I had a chance to fuck Sierra Emory again and everything went black.
7
Sierra
His hands tangled in my hair and the heat spread from my neck to my breasts. They perked and hardened as his hand slid under my shirt.
It all happened so fast. I didn’t have time to think or feel. Only react to the way Blake knew how to handle my body.
I grabbed at him. Needing contact. Needing warmth. It was the hottest part of summer, but I had been locked up in this lonely house without warmth. Without this.
Blake wasn’t a boy anymore. He was a man. An overbearing, confident, sexy-as-hell man. His shoulders bulged above me and I felt the hardness of his erection press into my hip.
I moaned slightly at the impact of it all.
And that’s when we broke apart. Like two magnets completely repelled by each other. Blake stumbled backward and I reached for the countertop to keep fr
om buckling to the ground.
That kiss never should have happened.
Before I could say anything, he walked to the door, slamming it behind him. I touched my lips with my fingertips, feeling the burn his mouth had branded on my skin.
Shit.
I locked the door as he peeled out of the driveway. The wheels sprayed gravel in every direction. I leaned into the door as if that would somehow steel me to do the right thing for once.
Since I had been here nothing had gone right. Tonight was just another example.
Everywhere I turned were reminders of how much I had screwed up. I slid to the floor and let the tears follow.
I’d always wanted to tell Blake the truth. I’d always wanted him to know, but too much time had passed. And then he’d been drafted by the AFA. Now, he was famous—he was a millionaire. He didn’t need an ex-girlfriend showing up to confess her past sins.
I sobbed into my hands until I knew my face was red and blotchy.
What could he do about it now? What would he say? How would I ever explain what had happened?
I crawled toward the coffee table and grabbed a handful of tissues. I blew my nose, knowing it was pointless. The tears were going to come back tenfold.
Just seeing Blake again brought it all back. Every memory. Every moment we’d spent together. Every shred of glass that pierced my heart.
I’d spent my life putting it all behind me and now I couldn’t run anymore. It was all around me. The lies. The deceit. What I had given up. How weak I had been. I shook on the floor, letting the sobs wrack my shoulders harder with each wave of emotion.
***
Eight Years Ago
Emily tapped on the door. “Sierra, you’ve been in there forever. When are you coming out?”
I stared at the stick on the bathroom counter. I was huddled on the floor in shock. Maybe it was a dream or rather a nightmare.
“Are you ok?” my best friend called through the door.
I rose slowly, needing the reassurance of the tile under my feet. I unlocked the door and let Emily in.
“What is it? What does it say?”
I pointed to the countertop.
She covered her mouth. “Oh my God. You’re pregnant. You’re actually pregnant.”
I nodded in disbelief. It hadn’t registered yet. I held up the two lines and looked at them again. This couldn’t be happening.
I felt her arm circle me. “Are you ok?”
“I think so.” I turned toward her. “What’s Blake going to say?”
She squeezed me tightly. “He’s going to say that whatever you need is what he’s going to do. He loves you. He totally loves you.”
I bit my lip. “But a baby?” I could feel my stomach roll, but I didn’t know if it was from the nerves or from the morning sickness that had started plaguing me.
“He can handle anything.”
I nodded in agreement. It was true. We might be young, but I knew there wasn’t another guy in the world like him.
There were a lot of old families on Gull island. Families who had passed down family businesses from generation to generation. Sometimes it was fishing. Sometimes it was a local store, but for the Wyatts it was boat building. Blake had something in his family I didn’t have—roots.
Even though Aunt Lindy had told me the history of the house and about all of the years her father and uncles had served in the Coast Guard, I still didn’t know where I fit into that.
I picked up the stick and stuffed it in the paper bag from the store. Emily had driven with me off the island to buy the test. The last thing I needed was some nosey neighbor finding out I thought I was pregnant. Aunt Lindy and Blake’s dad would have heard about it before I even had the test results if we hadn’t moved the shopping trip off the island.
Emily had been brave enough to hand the cashier a wad of bills when I thought I’d pass out from the embarrassment.
“Where are you going?” she asked. “Are you ok? You’re looking a little pale.”
“I’m going to tell him.”
“Now?” Her eyes widened and her brunette curls bounced.
“Yes. Now. If I don’t, I might talk myself out of it. And this isn’t one of those times I can talk myself out of it, right?”
She nodded with a soft smile. “Of course you have to tell him. Go. Talk to him.”
Emily had moved at the beginning of our senior year from Charlotte. From the start, we’d had that instant girl thing where we could finish each other’s sentences. Sometimes I swore we could even read each other’s thoughts. I don’t know how I’d manage to exist before she showed up.
“Ok. Good luck. Call me after. Ok?”
I hugged my best friend. “I will.” I needed that hug. It seemed hard to believe I had only known her a year.
I rushed down the spiral staircase. Aunt Lindy was in the kitchen working on dinner.
“When are you coming back, honey?” she asked.
“For dinner.” I smiled. I wasn’t sure how I was going to break the news to her either. First the daddy. Then I could worry about everyone else.
“I’m working on roasting a chicken.”
I grabbed at my stomach. For the past week, any mention of poultry had made my stomach queasy. I smiled meekly.
“I’ll make sure to be home.”
Once I put my key in the ignition, this was it. Our lives would never be the same. I hopped behind the wheel of my Jeep. I pressed my palm to my stomach. It was still flat. You would never know looking at me I was six-weeks pregnant. There was no more time to hesitate. I backed out of the driveway and raced to Blake’s house.
I pulled up in front of the boat storage building where Blake’s dad and uncle worked. The family business was boat building, but not for Blake. He had a football scholarship. A full ride. He only had a month left before practice and school started.
A month wasn’t long to figure this all out. But we were going to college together. We had planned out everything. Everything except a baby.
I stepped from the Jeep just as Mr. Wyatt appeared.
“Looking for Blake?”
I shoved the paper bag behind my back. “He said he was going to help you with one of the boats today.”
Mr. Wyatt and I had never gotten along. I didn’t know if it was because the only family I had on this island was my aunt, or he just wasn’t going to like anyone his son dated.
I knew he thought I interfered with Blake’s dedication to the game. I liked to think we proved him wrong. Blake was going to be Saints College’s starting quarterback, and I was headed to journalism school. We may have given each other every free second we had, but we also worked hard and had something to prove for it. My Wyatt owed me that much. The man needed to cut me some slack.
“I’ll tell him you stopped by.”
“But is he here?” I tried to peer around the older man.
I wondered if Blake would look like his father when he was older. There was a striking resemblance. The same piercing gray-blue eyes, a strong jaw, and wide shoulders. The only difference was Mr. Wyatt’s son towered over him by a good four or five inches.
“He ran to the store for me.”
“Ok.” I felt the pit in my stomach. I wanted to tell Blake. I needed to tell him. “I can wait.”
“I don’t think so. We have a lot of work to get finished.”
He was always trying to get rid of me. It was one of the things I was looking forward to in college. The Wyatt parents couldn’t hover over us anymore. College seemed like a dream—complete freedom.
“What if I just sit in my Jeep?” I offered.
“Fine. But he can’t go off with you. He’s got a long list of stuff to get done before he heads out for school.”
“I understand, Mr. Wyatt.”
But as I reached in my pocket to retrieve my keys I lost my grip on the bag and it dropped to the grass.
“No!” I screeched as I hurried to reach for it, but I was too late.
Blake’s
dad scooped down to pick it up as the pregnancy test rolled into the tall blades of grass. He clasped it between his gnarled knuckles as I stared in horror.
“What the hell is this?”
I couldn’t find any words to answer him.
“Are you pregnant, Sierra?”
I wanted to vomit. Again, not sure if it was from the baby or the terrible situation.
“Please don’t tell Blake. Please, I just need to talk to him.”
His eyes flared. “You’re pregnant?”
“I thought we had been careful,” I eked out a stupid defense. Now wasn’t the time to talk about how many time we had skipped the condoms in the heat of the moment. I never even thought it was possible for this to happen. We had been mostly responsible, but not enough.
He shook his head. “Unbelievable. Trapping my son with a baby.”
“What? No. It’s not a trap.” I reached for the test, but he held it out of distance from my fingertips.
He closed his eyes for a brief second. “Here’s what is going to happen, young lady. You’re going to go pack your things. Tell your aunt you were enrolled in an early program. You start driving.”
I shook my head. He was insane. “What are you talking about? No. I’m not doing that.”
He grabbed me by the arm, shoving me into the front of my vehicle. “You are.”
“I’m going to Saints College with Blake.”
“You’re going to any school but that one. I’ll pay for the transfer. I’ll pay for whatever I have to.”
The tears welled in my eyes before I could form words. “No. He has a right to know about his baby. I’m not going anywhere.”
He looked me in the eye. “What he has a right to is a future. A life of opportunity. You think I’m going to let my only son. The only person in this family with a real shot of leaving this village, squander it away because he knocked up some girl? I’m not.”
“I’m not some girl,” I fired back.
“He’ll forget about you in two weeks. That’s all he needs. Two weeks to get unbrainwashed. Football and college and you’ll be a memory, Sierra.”
“Why would you do this to your son? To your grandchild?” It made me sick making that connection, but it was true. I was carrying Roger Wyatt’s grandchild. His own flesh and blood.
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