He pulled me into his arms.
“The only logistic you need to know is that you belong with me. You always have. I think there’s a tree on this island somewhere that says so.”
I giggled. “You carved that in an old water oak. It’s probably gone by now.”
“It’s not.” His voice was dark.
“Oh. I just assumed a hurricane wiped it out.”
“It’s this tree, baby. The one we just fucked on. The one that made you come even after the sex was over.”
I lost my breath.
“Are you going to stop fighting me now?” He asked. “Turn in your notice. Pack up your shit and get your ass to Florida where it belongs.”
His eyes flickered under the moonlight. “As much as I love you bossing me around in bed, because I do, it’s not the same in real life.” I saw the anger on his face. “I have a job. I’ve been completely on my own for eight years. You think you’re going to be in charge of my every move?”
“Do you want me to be?”
And that was the question. How far did I want his control to go? When I was seventeen and had given myself to him it was different. I didn’t know what I was doing. I was young and naïve. But I’d made it on my own since then. I went to journalism school and paid for it myself. I never took a cent of his dad’s money.
I sighed. “I’ll give my notice.” I held up my finger. “But I want another job first. I want to move and have something on my own.”
“Fuck, Sierra. You do have something. You have me.”
And we were back to the impasse. To the thing that kept us on separate sides of the same goal.
“I know. But can’t you see I want something too? You have football. I’m not asking you to give up being a quarterback. I’m not asking you to leave the AFA. You don’t have to quit your job. You just have to be patient.”
“I’ve waited eight fucking years for you. Damn it. Don’t do this.”
“I’m only asking for a little time. I have to get my resume together and call some contacts in Orlando. I should be able to have something in six months. My work in Dallas is really strong.”
“Six months?” And that’s when I knew he was over the talking. He was done with all of it.
There wasn’t enough moonlight on the water. There wasn’t enough sparkly champagne or romantic slow songs. He was done.
I looked up. “It’s not that long.”
He buckled his pants.
I wiggled trying to rearrange the skirt of my dress. It was full of sand.
“When you think you’ve found the love of your life again and she tells you to hold off because it’s not convenient, you start to think otherwise.”
He started walking toward the small set of trees that separated us from the reception.
“Blake, don’t go like this. Stay. Please stay.”
He looked over his shoulder. “Good luck, Sierra. I mean it. Good luck this time.”
“No.” I ran barefoot to chase him. “Just stop. Please.”
“I can’t. Not this time.”
He stormed through the brush onto the manicured lawn at the edge of the party. No matter what I said, or did he wasn’t going to turn around.
“Don’t do this, Blake. Don’t say goodbye. Please.”
I watched as his dark silhouette disappeared. I lost him when he joined the crowd.
I stood, trying to cover up my lacy bra, and realized I was more bare than I’d even known.
***
I looked up at the house where I had spent part of the summer. The breeze blowing off the sound skirted through the wind chimes. Three weeks ago, I had thought I was going to hate my trip back to the island. It was only going to drudge up painful memories. And maybe for the first week that was true, but looking out across the sound to where the lighthouse stood, I knew I had grown to love this place and all its quirks all over again.
I had fallen in love a second time. I didn’t know it was possible.
I tossed my purse in the front seat. I knew I was stalling, but everything about this moment was surreal. It felt like I was walking through a fog.
I didn’t want to leave without saying goodbye. I didn’t want to drive over that bridge a second time without saying the words. But Blake wouldn’t answer my calls. He didn’t answer the door when I knocked.
He wasn’t in the boat barn. I couldn’t find him anywhere on the island.
He was the one who had escaped this time.
I slid into the seat and turned the keys in the ignition. She rolled the window down to inhale the last whiffs of the salty air. I didn’t know when I would be back to work on the house. It would sit and wait for me. It wasn’t the first time it had been through a storm.
I exhaled and put my foot on the break. It was time.
I put the car in reverse as I pulled away from the house. Away from a place that had become home. Away from where love had found me.
27
Blake
“Get your asses out here,” I yelled at the team.
The receivers were on the sidelines like they didn’t have routes to run and two of the tight ends were sitting on the bench.
“What the fuck is going on around here?” I looked at Coach. He shrugged.
He was worried about the personnel issues he had with the new coaching staff. We had too many new hires. Not enough seasoned talent.
This was how the first part of the season always started. A complete cluster fuck. But I needed it to go smoother than this. I needed to control it.
The season opener was in two days. Camp was over. The pre-season kicked our asses royally. No one had any faith in the Thrashers. They didn’t think we could pull off a winning season. Looking at this group of lazy ass grown men, I knew why. No one gave a shit. No one had an ounce of passion. An ounce of drive.
But I did.
I shouted at the linemen. “Are you ready?”
They nodded.
“Good. Then let’s go.”
If the guys on the sidelines didn’t want to practice, I was sure some of the rookies did. And if they could catch the ball, I’d request they start on Sundays. All I cared about was getting the W.
I heard the receivers grumble on the field. “Thought he went to some fishing hole. He is not relaxed.”
“What the fuck are you saying over there?”
“Nothing.”
I dropped the ball and ran over to the guy. “If you have a problem with how I’m running practice today, maybe you don’t need to show up. Can’t really tell you’re here anyway.”
The receiver stood. “I said it was nothing.”
The other guys had huddled around us.
“Then shut the fuck up and catch the ball when I throw it.”
I turned, but my anger was still back where I’d left him. I didn’t need some new traded tight end, mouthing off. There was only one person who set the rules around here. And they were making a spectacle of my team. No wonder people were betting against us.
“Wyatt, why don’t we take five?” Coach called. “Everyone’s looking worn out. It’s hot.”
He had finally looked up from his clipboard long enough to realize there was a real problem out here. If we didn’t have things straight on the field who in the hell cared who his third defensive coach was.
“After this play.” Sure I was hot. But we were inside. It wasn’t like we were out in the heat like some teams. It was the entire reason we had indoor training facilities.
I ignored him and walked back to the huddle.
“Let’s try this again,” I announced.
I counted off the snap before stepping back to pass it.
I searched the field for what I wanted to see, but no one was open. Our corner backs were doing a better job than our offense. I cursed under my breath.
“Hell.” I let the ball soar through the air. Someone better catch that shit.
It hit one of the guys in the chest. Not the receiver who was supposed to run the route. Just a luc
ky bastard who saw where I was headed with the pass.
I threw my helmet to the ground and walked past the coaching staff.
“Wyatt, come on.”
I waved them off and headed for the locker rooms.
It didn’t matter. There was no excuse for it. None. It was bullshit and they knew it.
This wasn’t the summer season anymore. Didn’t they see that? Summer was fucking over. In more ways than I could explain to them.
No more late night cruises. No more fishing with Cole. No boats that needed work. No dancing on the docks. No sex on the porch with a fucking sex siren. No. That was all over. It had been.
Fall was here and the sooner we all accepted that, the sooner we could leave the summer behind us.
28
Sierra
It had been a month since I drove off the island. An entire month had passed. I stared at the city below me in disbelief. Drinking coffee in a high-rise building didn’t feel the same as it had when I watching the boats from the porch at Aunt Lindy’s. I sighed, knowing that below me was chaos. Noise. Frenetic energy.
I didn’t know how the eight years I had spent here suddenly seemed like a foreign memory. Something I almost didn’t recognize. It was supposed to be the other way around.
I heard my phone vibrating from the kitchen counter. I hopped up to answer it. “Sierra Emory.”
“Sierra, get your ass into the station. There were two hit and runs today in the same neighborhood. Dallas PD thinks it might be a serial case,” the anxious assignment editor barked on the other end.
I looked down at my running shorts and the tank top that I was wearing.
“Ray, it’s going to be at least an hour before I can make it in. Besides, why aren’t you sending out one of the beat reporters?”
It didn’t make sense. I didn’t cover stories like this anymore. I had put in my time at the station so I didn’t have to do shitty work like this kind of assignment.
“I’ve got two people who are sick, an anchor out early, and I don’t know if I can find enough videographers today. Do I really have to ask if you’re a team player today?”
“No. No. I can be there in thirty minutes. It’s just today is my day off and—” I looked down at the phone, but the screen was blank. Ray had already hung up on me.
Great. So much for my workout and my call with Emily. I peeled the tank top over my head and turned the shower on. I carefully stepped over the side of the tub and reached for the shampoo.
Ray wasn’t the only one at the station who barked orders. It seemed like threats and insults were the only way people in the newsroom communicated with each other. A little professional competitiveness was important, but I had almost forgotten the cutthroat environment I had returned to.
I dumped a handful of conditioner in my hand and lathered it into my hair. I really needed to talk to Emily this morning.
We were planning a girls’ weekend in October. Emily had suggested we meet in New Orleans for a little Bourbon Street getaway. I didn’t want to tell her yet that the producers were going to cut my vacation time.
I picked up my razor and shook the shaving cream can in my hand before squeezing the foam along my leg. My tan hadn’t completely faded. As I ran the razor along my leg a flash of Blake’s thumb rubbing that spot hit me.
Shit! A trickle of blood streamed down my leg. I didn’t have time for this. I turned the water off and wrapped a towel around my leg, hoping the bleeding would stop.
I tried to tell myself that it was completely normal for Blake to pop in my head from time to time. It was going to happen. The bleeding along my calf stopped. What I knew wasn’t normal was that those flashbacks weren’t just every now and then. They were all the time.
A month hadn’t done anything to dull the vibrant colors in my dreams. His eyes. His hands. His hot-as-hell mouth.
I fastened the last button on my suit jacket and slid my heels into black sling-back pumps. In the elevator ride to the basement parking lot, I let out a steady breath. The flashbacks had to fade eventually. It was taking longer than I thought it would, but I knew if I put my mind to it, the loneliness would subside.
The gut reaction I felt every time I flipped past a football game on TV would fade.
I pulled out my phone to call Emily on my way to the station. It was Tuesday, and Emily said we couldn’t talk until after work, but I wanted to let her know I had been called in for an assignment. I flipped the Bluetooth switch on the steering wheel and waited for my best friend to answer the phone.
“Hey. I thought we were going to talk when I got off work?” Emily sounded distracted, but sweet as ever.
“Can you believe this shit? I have to go into work on my only day off,” I seethed as I pulled onto the interstate.
My high rise was one of the buildings along the downtown perimeter. It usually took at least twenty minutes to make it to the station.
“Oh, that sucks. I can talk for a few minutes. My boss just went to lunch.”
“Oh good. I kind of need to ask you something.” I was more nervous than I thought she should be.
“Of course. What’s going on? You ok?” Emily asked.
They were there, right on the brim of my eyelids—heavy, salty tears. Hearing Emily’s voice broke down the last resistance I had.
“I. Can’t. Talk. About. It.” I steered the car toward the nearest exit. Even in my emotional state, I knew I had to get off the interstate or I would be one of the serial wrecks that Ray told me about.
“Where are you? You sound terrible,” Emily pressed.
I parked at the nearest gas station and dabbed at my eyes with a tissue. My eye makeup was completely ruined. “I just pulled over at a gas station. Oh my God, what’s wrong with me? I’m supposed to be headed in to cover a story.”
“Can you take a few deep breaths?” Emily suggested.
I clutched the steering wheel. “Ok. I can talk again.” I had steadied my breathing.
“Can you tell me about it?”
“No matter what I do, it doesn’t matter what it is. I mean I try, and I don’t talk about it, and I don’t think about it and then—boom—it’s everywhere.”
Emily sounded confused. “Girl, I am not following.”
I exhaled. “Blake. It’s Blake. He’s everywhere. And he’s not supposed to be. I’m in Texas, damn it. I’m as far away from the freakin’ water and his songs, cruises, and sparkly eyes as I can get. He should not be here in my head.”
My chest tightened. “I shouldn’t be feeling this, right? He was a complete ass. He has no patience.” The tears started again. “I mean, do you know how many white trucks there are in Texas? They are everywhere.”
“Oh.” Emily grew quiet. “You haven’t mentioned Blake one time in the past month—not once. I don’t even know how you left things on your last day on the island.”
“Why am I even talking about it now? See? He’s in my head. I’ve lost it. And he should not be in my head. No. I’ve got to get him out.”
“I’m surprised it took you this long to figure it out.” She giggled.
“What?”
“And I think you have this all wrong; he’s not just in your head.”
“This is not funny. I’m miserable,” I whined.
“I’m sorry. Oh, my boss is coming back. I have to go. Can we talk later? I’m going into a meeting, and then we have a press conference. I’ll call you when I’m done.”
“Right. Work. I understand.” I needed to do the same thing.
“So, you, me, and a bottle of wine over the phone after my press conference, ok?”
I smiled. “Absolutely. Thanks. Bye.”
“No problem. Bye.”
I ended the call from my steering wheel, and adjusted my rearview mirror to get a better look at the damage the crying had done to my mascara. Damn it.
I still had ten minutes of road ahead of me before making it to the station. Plenty of time to pull myself together. It felt good to release the breath
I had been holding for what seemed like a month.
I slowed the car into the KXMA parking lot and pulled into the closest space to the back door. The satellite trucks were all gone. Must be a busy news day. I reached for my purse as the words of a country song belted out through the radio. Are you kidding me? Of all the country songs on all the country stations, the one I danced to with Blake has to play right now.
I jabbed at the radio button, silencing the song. I’m not dealing with this right now. Pinching my cheeks a few times, and brushing the wrinkles from my suit, I charged into the newsroom.
“Where have you been?” Ray roared over the rows of news desks. “If you don’t get to the scene of the accident now, there’s not going to be any B-roll for you to take and you might as well look like you’re doing any ole traffic story.”
I glared at Ray. “I got here as fast as I could. You called me in on my day off.”
“Whatever.” Ray waved me on. “Get down there before you miss the whole damn thing.”
I didn’t bother to check my email or grab the stack of notes in my inbox. I turned toward the exit doors and ran back out into the Texas heat.
***
I didn’t know what Ray was fussing about. There was plenty of evidence of the last hit and run on the side of the Texas service road. I pulled up behind the police car and put my car in park. I couldn’t see all of the vehicles from my vantage point, so I walked across the road to survey the damage. The tow trucks had just arrived.
“You with the station?” The officer stepped from the accident and tipped his cowboy hat toward me.
“Hi, yes, I’m Sierra Emory from KXMA”
“Officer Blake.” He smiled. “You ok?”
My ankle gave a little in my pumps. “Your name is Blake?” I straightened my stance.
“I can spell it out for you, so your people get it right on the screen. It’s B-L-A-K-E. Bob Blake. You think it’d be an easy name to spell, but they sure do like to get creative with it.”
I reached out to grab hold of the police car. I blamed it on the heat.
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