by Kristi Rose
Gently, I swirl the liquid in my glass and focus on the motion and say, “Honestly, I don’t think I stayed long enough to make those sort of friendships. It works out that I leave when things are on a good note and with social media, I can keep in touch with pretty much anyone. Trying to reconnect with Will is far harder.” I look at him.
“You’ve seemed to make a good friend with Jayne,” he says.
I nod and set my glass on the table. “Yeah, that happened quickly. It’s never happened before.” It’ll be hard leaving here. That realization renders me breathless and now I understand why I struggled so with my run. Even then, almost two weeks ago, I was feeling more comfortable here than anywhere I’ve been yet. The connections here are greater, not better, but stronger, and knocking me off my stride.
“But what about home? People you’ve known for a long time.”
I wonder why he’s asking these questions. This guy who dreamed of leaving but never did. His history is here and nowhere else, whereas I have left a piece of me, no matter had small or insignificant, in different places.
“Funny enough, I don’t miss anyone from home with the exception of some older relatives and my parents. I didn’t have a lot of friends there.” I roll my eyes. “But Lord, my mother. Why I miss her, I’ll never know. She drives me nuts. But by being away from them I have Will again and I really missed him.”
He leans forward, takes my fork, and finishes off my lobster.
“When he left I felt like a part of me was gone too. I felt so alone.” I’m lost in the images of my past. It’s like hearing an old song on the radio and being transported back in time. “What about you and Vann? Aren’t you close?”
“Yeah, but it’s different. I’ve been Vann’s brother and his parent. I knew when he was born that it would be up to me to protect him. Pretty serious business for a five-year-old.”
“Was it terrible? Your childhood?” Will he meet me half way?
“Are we going to eat that cake or talk about shit that’s depressing as hell? Because if I had a vote, and I think I should since it’s my birthday and all, I’d vote on the cake.”
“Nice deflection.” I stand and bring the cake to the table, place a two and eight candle in the cake, and light it.
“How’d you know how old I was?”
“Just like I knew where you lived. I memorized your driver’s license, Brinn No- Middle Name McRae. Make a wish.” I step aside and present the cake with a flourish.
He turns his chair, and grabs me, fitting me between his legs.
Our eyes meet and a current of energy crackles and sparks between us.
“A wish, huh?” His voice is low and sexy.
“Make it a good one.”
With a quick puff, he blows out the candles. He slides his hands up my legs, beneath my shorts and a primal moan escapes me.
“I really hope it comes true.” I wrap my arms around his neck.
He stands and lifts me to straddle him. “There’s a good chance it will,” he says before kissing my piercing.
“I hope you didn’t waste your wish on me.” I arch as he travels kisses across my jaw and down my neck.
He lays me down on the platform chair and I tremble with anticipation. “Nothing about you is a waste.”
Chapter 16
Today, for lack of a better expression, has sucked major balls. But even saying that doesn’t sound bad enough. Today, more than any day so far since living in Daytona, I want to pack my shit and hit the road. Turning my back on everything in this stupid state would be a wise move.
All because Will stood me up.
I knew it was too good to be true when he texted and asked if I wanted to hang out. All the previous offer’s I’d made to do the same were met with a quick and decisive no. But today he reached out. Today we were going to hang at the beach and I was going to work up the courage to ask him all the questions that’d been with me since he left.
Why did you leave?
Why wouldn’t you let me help?
Why am I so easy to forget?
But with my picnic basket loaded full of gourmet sandwiches and snacks, I sat on my blanket and waited over an hour past our rendezvous time. I’d even taken the day off from work.
Nothing.
I text him one simple question.
Will?
Sorry is all I get.
I dump the food in the garbage by the boardwalk and ride my bike home so fast and furiously that I don’t feel the tears on my cheek until I pull into the driveway.
I don’t understand.
I thought I was done grieving for him, but every time he pulls away, it’s as if the wound is flayed open again.
I lose my shit in the shower. Sitting in the corner with the hot spray beating down I let it all out. Sob until I am deplete of tears or energy. I’m not sure which.
The only way to cope with this is to make a plan, so after my shower I boot up my laptop, and after a brief search, I find a cruise line job that I apply for. The timing is perfect as I have my lease until the beginning of September, which is when Mark’s daughter is scheduled to take over. In case I need further proof that Karma exists, the cruise line training is scheduled to start (if I get the job) that same week.
Planning doesn’t get more perfect than that.
The likely truth of this whole situation is that there is no place for me in Will’s life. The sooner I accept that the sooner I can get about the business of making my own life. Wherever that may be. I no longer need to seek him out and pick my destinations accordingly.
So for now, work will be a distraction I’ll take. Not willing to linger over my broken heart and somewhat energized by having a plan in place, I dress and set out to enjoy these last few weeks I have here. Starting with Brinn.
I’m pulling in the office parking lot as Brinn is walking out. I cut the wheel to make a sharp turn and park, my steering belt emitting a high pitch squeal. I do a thumbs-up and smile at Brinn through the windshield, laughing as he shakes his head at me.
“Hey,” I say, climbing out of the car.
He looks me up and down before he asks, “You got any spare clothes in that car of yours?”
I look down at my outfit. I’d kept my hair casual, capturing it in a long fat braid. My long jean skirt and white T-shirt are so simple they’re almost uninspiring. “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing? Holy shit, this is conservative. I refuse to—”
He walks to me and puts his lips to mine, effectively shutting me up. Who is this handsome stranger who is at such ease with his public displays of affection? His phone rests beneath my palm, silent in his vest pocket. A little light of happiness charges through me, dissipating the aches. A little.
“You look fine,” he says before nibbling on my lip.
“Fine?” Is that a veiled insult? Fine sounds boring.
“I like the skirts with the slits in them better.” He rubs his hand down my thigh.
“Is that why you wanted to know if I have clothes? You planning on making this dirty?” I fist his shirt in my hands and pull him against me.
“Man, I love where your mind goes. But no, I wanted to know if you had clothes because I’m going to Fort Lauderdale and I thought you’d like to come with me. It’s an overnighter for business. You ever been down there?”
“Once, to catch a cruise with my parents, but I was just a kid. I can’t go. What about work?”
“You’re not even supposed to be here. Why are you here?”
My smile wavers and try as I might I can’t keep the stupid ass tears from springing to my eyes.
“Hey.” He strokes his thumb down my cheek. “What happened?”
I drop my head forward, my forehead resting on his shoulder. “I was supposed to meet my brother. We were going to hang out this weekend. But he stood me up.”
“Why?”
“I dunno. All he said was sorry. I even took the weekend off from the bar.” Which will cost me handsome
ly in tips.
“Not knowing your brother, I can only guess, but maybe he needs more time?” He wraps his long arms around me and snuggles me against him.
“Time for what?” I say in his throat. “What did I ever do to him? He’s the one who left and didn’t look back. I’m really trying here and one moment he gives a little and the next he takes it back.”
“A trip to Ft. Lauderdale is just what you need. You can practice letting it go. Tell yourself you’re giving him the space he needs if that’s what it takes. But don’t stay getting all worked up over something you can’t control. Tomorrow’s the weekend and the expense is on Mark.” He strokes my back.
I step away with a shake of my head, crossing my arms over her chest. “You can’t fix this, Brinn. Don’t even try. No stupid-ass trip is going to make this better.”
He tucks his hands into the front pocket of his jeans. They ride even lower with the weight of his hands pulling them down and see the top of his tighty-whiteys. I strain to ignore the stirring of my girly parts. It’d be easier to ignore a gorilla tossing hundred dollar bills at me. He’s the perfect remedy for my disappointment.
“I’m not trying to fix it. That has to happen with Will, but I am trying to make you smile.” He leans toward me. “I’m trying to distract you, even just a tiny bit.” His smile is small and crooked, and I want to lick him from head to toe he’s so freaking adorable.
“Why are you going to Fort Lauderdale?” Moving back into his space so I can touch him, I play with the zipper on his flight vest, my shoulders relaxing while I visualize the schedule. This trip isn’t on it.
“Because of Mark’s new ‘business partner,’ Erik.” He rips his hands from his jeans to do the air quotes.
“That’s the dude that was in last week when Mark came back. The real estate investor?” I remember him as being harmless and wardrobe challenged.
Brinn rolls his eyes. “He’s convinced Mark there’s some land down there that would be a good spot for a school. I’m to check it out and decide if it’s a go or not. I really think it’s because he couldn’t get a charter out. Gave me some sob story about how terrible it is he can’t find a charter when he needs one and how he refuses to take a commercial flight because of their little bags of nuts and minuscule bottles of booze.”
I pause my zipping, one hand still on his vest. His entire body tenses under my fingers as he talks. There’s no need to mention how this shafts Brinn, who is desperate to be Mark’s business partner. He’s good enough to have the final say in this deal, yet he’s not good enough to sell part of the business too. Today has shit on both Brinn and me, and in his defense, I want to go inside and stomp on Mark’s white-sock-and-Croc-wearing foot before I deliver a knee to the belly.
“This Erik dude—”
“Is an annoying piece of work. When he laughs I want to peel my ears from my head.” Brinn’s hands are on his waist and the anger he’s experiencing is barely tethered. It pulses off him.
“Isn’t it a crazy long drive?”
“Yeah, that’s why we’re flying.”
My fingers still.
“I love this piercing in your mouth,” he whispers and bends to kiss it, his tongue teasing the area, his hands going to my waist.
But it doesn’t help. I shake my head, drop my hand from his flight vest, and step away. “Uh, flying? No, thanks.”
He searches my face before snaking his arms around my waist, pulling me against him. “You’re awfully pale under that sun-kissed skin. Wait. Are you telling me you’re afraid of flying?”
“I’m telling you I don’t want to go.” I try to push out of his arms.
He lets me go but keeps me from walking, maybe running, back to my car by holding me at the elbow. “Seriously? You made me go to a psychic. You called me...what was the word—”
“Unexciting,” I whisper and look at the small coffin that he calls a plane sitting in the hangar. I shake my head.
“Yeah, unexciting. You gave me this whole speech on adventure and you won’t get into a plane with me. You’re a hypocrite.”
That does it. I laser focus my attention back on him and point my finger toward his face. “I’m not a hypocrite. You weren’t going to die if I took you to see a psychic.”
“I might have. You don’t know.” He crosses his arms over his chest and lifts a brow.
“What? She was gonna read your palm too hard? Cut you with the tarot card?” I hope he recognizes my you’re-an-idiot face.
“Maybe she was gonna tell me something so devastating I would take my own life.”
“Oh for fuck’s sake.” I roll my eyes and turn to leave.
“No you don’t.” He jumps in front of me. “You can’t call me boring and chicken and not have your helping of crow.”
“There’s nothing you can say to make me get into a tiny tube of steel and go hurtling over the earth. Nothing.”
“First, it’s not hurtling. It’s flying. We aren’t taking a rocket. And second, I never figured you for a scaredy-cat. So much for all that talk about adventure and experiencing life. Guess everyone has their scaredy-cat limits.”
I gasp, not caring my mouth hangs open. “I’m not scared.”
“Yeah, I believe that.” He laughs in my face. Right up in there, taunting me like a playground bully. “Scaredy-cat. Scaredy-cat,” he sings.
“Shut up.” I narrow my eyes.
“Bauk, bauk, bauk,” he adds.
“That’s a chicken.” I cross my arms and stick out my hip, smug.
“That’s you,” he says. “A scaredy-cat chicken.”
“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”
He continues making noises. But it’s his laughing that gets me. “Look who’s not so tough.”
“Oh, all right. I’ll go. Shut up already.” I bite my lower lip and bend over at the waist. “I think I might be sick.” I hate being a coward.
“Hey.” He takes me in his arms. “It’s gonna be OK. Trust me. I’m a pretty good pilot.”
“You better be fucking awesome.” I bury my head in his shirt, my breath on his chest.
“I’m the guy who showed awesome how to be better.” He kisses my forehead. “Now go home, pack, and be back here in forty-five minutes.”
“We’re leaving that soon?”
“Yup.”
“But Mark.” I motion to the hangar as if it’ll throw me a lifeline.
“You’re not even supposed to be here. Go.” He spins me around, swats me on the ass, and gives me a gentle shove toward my car.
“I just won’t come back,” I mumble.
He stops me with a hand on my arm. “You’re right. You won’t come back. We’ll just pick you up some things down there. We can expense it or something. Why don’t you go wait in the office? I’ll come get you when the pre-flight checklist is done.”
I flip him a bird over my shoulder as I hustle into the hangar. I’d seen Zach’s scooter alongside the building, and I figure I can slip out the other door and zoom away before Brinn clues in. I can hide at the mall or something.
I hate flying that much.
I find Zach by the water cooler filling a bottle.
“Give me the keys to your scooter,” I say and look over my shoulder.
With one hand he digs in his pocket, pulls out a silver skull keychain, and drops it onto my palm.
“I promise to bring it back. I’ll take good care of it,” I whisper and scan the space for Brinn. He’s likely almost done with his checklist.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about, but that scooter’s not going anywhere.”
I roll my eyes. Boys and their toys. “If I crash it I’ll replace it.”
He flips off the cooler’s tab and replaces the lid on the bottle. “It won’t start. The engine’s flooded. I’m about to work on it now.”
“Then why did you give me your keys?” My fear has been replaced with frustration.
&nbs
p; “Because you asked for them.” He shrugs as if to say ‘duh.’
I roll my shoulders back and force a deep, hopefully calming breath before I say, “I need a way outta here, Zach. Fast.”
“I’m giving you a way out. My plane,” Brinn says from behind me, his hand coming to rest of the small of my back. “Trying to escape, were you?” he whispers in my ear.
I should tell him that I’m not going. He can’t make me and even though he’ll see me for the coward I really am, at least I’ll be alive. Never mind all those times he’s been out in the plane and come back unscathed.
“I can’t do it,” I say. Then bite my lower lip.
With his free hand, Brinn pries open mine and removes Zach’s keys, tossing them to the kid.
With his other hand, he gently rubs my back. “Babe, it’s gonna be OK. I’m gonna be right there and you’re gonna love it.”
I shake my head.
“Don’t let fear get you, Josie. You can beat this.”
“Not if I’m dead.” It’s sound reasoning. Who can argue with that?
“Come on,” he says and takes my hand, leading me to the plane.
“Tell the world my story, Zach,” I yell over my shoulder while reaching one hand toward him in a last ditch effort to cease this madness.
Brinn traps me between the fuselage and his body. “Here, start chewing this.”
He hands me cinnamon gum and I take two pieces.
After he practically carries me to my seat in the cockpit and straps me in, he hands me headphones, which I can’t get on as my hands are trembling too much. Brinn takes them, lowers them on with ease, then kisses my nose.
“Wowza. Hello sweet Josie,” Erik says, standing outside my door. His hands are in his pockets and he continually pulls them up, forcing the pant material to bunch up at his crotch. If that’s not bad enough, I see he’s wearing dress shoes with no socks.
I ignore him, focusing on the steady chewing of my gum, smacking it loudly with the occasional popping of bubbles.
Hey,” Brinn says to Erik while pointing his finger at me. “She’s off limits to you. You understand?”
Erik puts up his hands. “Territorial much? Hey, where are my headphones?” He looks around.