"I told you I was going to leave the Army."
"It was too late, Braden."
"I wish you would have told me you wanted out before you cheated."
"I told you why I didn't tell you. I didn't want you to be distracted while you were in danger." She drew in a breath and then let it out. "I'm not proud of what I did. I thought our lives were going to be so different than what they turned out to be. I didn't know I was going to be so lonely. I didn't understand that I'd be giving up a lot to move around with you. And even when you were home, you shut down. You couldn't talk to me. You were sealed up like a vault, and I had no idea how to get in."
She was probably right about that, but she hadn't tried all that hard to understand what he was going through. "I did try to tell you about Pete."
Her lips tightened. "I don't want to talk about that. It's too sad. And I'm afraid if you tell me too much, I'll blurt it out to someone that shouldn't know. I still see some of Pete's friends around town, and no one knows the whole story but you. That's the way you wanted it."
"We don't need to talk about Pete. Can I come in?" he asked.
She hesitated, flinging a quick look over her shoulder. "I'm not alone."
He stiffened, waiting for the anger to come back, but he felt remarkably indifferent to the fact that there was another guy in his house, probably in his bed. They really were done. "Well, I need my guitar," he said.
"Your guitar?" she repeated. "You haven't played that thing since before we married."
"It's in the back closet, or at least it was when I last saw it."
"That's what you came here for – your guitar?" she asked in amazement.
"Yeah," he said. It wasn't just the guitar he was reclaiming it was a part of himself that he'd lost.
"Okay. I'll get it," she said with a shrug. "Can you wait out here? I don't want it to be awkward."
"Yes, God knows, we don't want it to be awkward," he said with a touch of sarcasm.
As Kinley went back inside the house, he walked to the edge of the porch and looked down the street. He doubted he'd ever come back here again, but he no longer felt like he had to avoid this part of town. He needed to move on. He wasn't tied to the Army anymore. He wasn't tied to Kinley. He'd cut all the strings. Now, he just had to figure out how to get started on the rest of his life.
"Here it is," Kinley said, returning a moment later.
"Thanks." He took the case out of her hands.
"What are you going do now, Braden?" she asked curiously.
"Right now, I'm going to see if I remember how to play a few chords."
"I'm talking about your life." She paused, sending him a plea for understanding. "I don't want you to hate me, and I do want you to be happy. You deserve that after everything you've been through."
"I intend to be happy," he said.
"Are you with that woman I saw yesterday?"
"Alexa? No. We're just … I don’t know what we are."
"She's the girl from your past. The one you had a huge crush on. When you told me about her years ago, your voice changed like she was someone special. I always wondered about her."
He couldn't remember exactly what he'd told Kinley about Alexa, but it didn't matter. "She's from my past, yes. I'm not sure yet if she's going to be part of my future."
* * *
Alexa hit the waterfront just as the local restaurants were opening their doors for lunch. There was also a buzzing atmosphere around town as the community prepared for the Daniel Stone fundraiser the next day. Volunteers were on various corners, handing out flyers, and discussing politics, and men and women in conservative business attire stood out in the touristy crowd. She didn't know who they were -- political operatives, security? It was impossible to tell.
She was looking forward to meeting the would-be senator and also his entourage. Her father's remarks about a journal had been tantalizing, but she'd found no such item in any of the boxes at the shop. So either someone had found it before her, or it was still hidden away somewhere. But that was all for later. Right now she had a more personal mission in mind. She was going to find some sea glass.
She took the same path to the beach as she'd done the day before, but once she hit the sand, she kicked off her shoes and let herself enjoy the sensation of the warm grains between her toes. Her last trip to the beach had been filled with purpose, to get to the Wellbourne house. Now she just wanted to enjoy herself.
She wandered down to the water. The tide appeared to be out, which gave her plenty of beach to graze. It still amazed her that the colored gems called sea glass were the result of the ocean currents spinning ordinary glass that had been dumped into the ocean into frosted, colored shards of sea glass. It was nature's way of turning trash into something beautiful, and that appealed to Alexa on a lot of levels. She was tired of people throwing things away – like her father had done with his first family.
She searched for almost an hour, her path taking her along the water. The wind tossed her hair, until half of it was falling loose from her ponytail. The sun toasted her cheeks, making her feel like she'd just come out of a winter cocoon. Walking through the sand was also great exercise. Her legs began to ache from the exertion of squatting down every few feet to examine piles of pebbles, shells and seaweed, hoping to find some colored gem tucked away.
She found a few very small shards early on that she put into a zipped pouch in her bag. But it was slow going, and she was beginning to think she'd have to go home without anything really significant, when she finally stumbled upon a beautiful frosty, dark green piece that was a couple of inches in diameter. She could definitely do something with this.
The sun was getting high in the sky, and she realized it was almost one o'clock. She'd managed to waste half the day, although she didn't want to think of it as a waste. But it was hard to change the habits she'd acquired the last ten years where every activity was pursued for a specific goal. It had been a long time since she had veered off her path of productivity, and she was enjoying the break. She felt more in touch with herself.
As she made her way back across the beach, a figure near the base of the cliff caught her eye. A guy was sitting on a large boulder strumming a guitar, and her heart skipped a beat when she realized it was Braden.
He hadn't seen her yet, his focus on the instrument in his hands. She studied him for a moment, thinking that the guitar made him even sexier -- if that were possible. She liked his casual look, the faded jeans, the gray T-shirt. She couldn't really picture Braden in a suit like the accountants she worked with. She thought he would feel too constricted, although, he had worn a military uniform for almost eight years. He was probably used to being constricted.
Braden suddenly looked up, and his fingers stilled on the guitar.
She waved and walked across the sand. "I see you found your guitar," she said, taking a seat on a large, flat boulder next to him.
"What are you doing down here?"
She held up the piece of sea glass still in her hand.
He sent her a warm, knowing smile. "Reliving old times?"
"I seem to be doing that a lot. I stopped by The Glass House this morning and talked to Mary Mulligan. In fact, I bought one of her bird pieces.
She pulled the box out of her bag and unwrapped the glass so she could show Braden. "Isn't it perfect?"
The glass shimmered in the sunlight, as if the bird was itching to fly away.
"It's beautiful," Braden agreed.
She carefully wrapped the glass back up and returned it to its soft resting place and slid the box into her bag. "Mary invited me to come to her house on Sunday so I can see how she makes the glass. That's something I've always wanted to do."
"I'm glad you're finally doing it," he said approvingly.
"Now that Aunt Phoebe is getting better, I don't feel as guilty about spending a little time for myself."
"You should never feel guilty about that, Alexa. Life is too short."
"I know." She paus
ed. "Speaking of old dreams – how's the music going?"
"I'm very rusty," he said with a grin. "I had to come out here and play where no one could possibly hear me."
"I'm sure you're not that bad."
"I'm sure you have no idea how bad I am."
"Then play for me, and let me be the judge."
He shrugged, then strummed the strings, producing a nice tone.
"That doesn't sound so bad, Braden. What about my song? Can I hear it?"
"I'm still trying to remember the words," he replied.
"I think you remember. You just don't want to sing it for me."
"It was a stupid song, Alexa."
"I want to hear it, Braden." She glanced around. There was no one nearby. "Right now it's just us and the birds."
He sighed. "You're so pushy."
"And you're so stubborn. Just give me a few lines."
"Fine, but don't blame me if those birds go squawking and squealing into the water."
She laughed. "I'll risk it. Come on."
He glanced down at his guitar and strummed a few chords, then he began to sing.
His voice was low and smooth, a beautiful masculine tone. But it was the words that touched her.
"She's my summer girl. Every time I see her, my heart whirls. Her smile lights up a sky that matches her eyes."
She drew in a shaky breath as his voice drifted away.
"I don't remember the rest," he muttered, his fingers still playing a pretty melody.
His song took her back to that sweet, innocent love, her first experience with the emotion. There had been so many possibilities then, so much hope, so much yearning…
Braden finally stopped playing to look at her. There was uncertainty in his eyes and maybe a little fear that he'd revealed too much.
"I really loved the boy who wrote that," she said softly.
"I loved the girl I wrote about."
"Do you think they're still a part of us?"
"No."
"Not even down deep?"
He shrugged. "I can only speak for myself. I suspect you still have that girl inside of you."
"You need to write some more," she said.
"Why?"
"Because you won't know what you really have until it's done."
He stared back at her. "Alexa, don't read too much into the song."
"Stop warning me off, Braden. I'll think what I want to think about it and about us."
"Now, who's being stubborn?"
His teasing tone directed the conversation to a lighter note, and she decided to go along with it. "I have to say your music tastes have changed," she said.
"Do you think so?" he asked absentmindedly as he played with the guitar strings.
"Absolutely." She took out her phone and pulled up her playlist. Smiling to herself, she said, "I remember when you liked these guys." She pushed play, and the music from a boy band that was popular two decades ago blasted out of her phone. She'd found the song the night before when she'd been looking for something new to download. She'd been thinking about Braden and the songs they'd used to listen to, wondering if they'd influenced his musical choices.
A grin spread across Braden's face as he looked at her. "They were your favorite, not mine."
"Oh, I don't think so," she said. "You used to dance around and imitate the lead singer." She jumped to her feet and tried to put on the moves she remembered.
Braden set his guitar aside and said, "Give me that phone."
"No way."
And then he was on his feet, headed her way. She squealed and ran, but of course her legs were no match for Braden's long stride. He tackled her into the sand, grabbing the cell phone out of her hand and shutting off the annoying song.
Her heart was beating fast, her breath ragged, and it all got worse when there was nothing but silence, when she became acutely aware of Braden's body sprawled across hers. He gazed down at her, his eyes darkening, his lips parting.
"Alexa," he muttered.
She wrapped her arms around him and pulled him down to her. She loved his weight on top of her, his mouth crushing hers with a passion that went way beyond the sweet little crush they'd shared. They weren't a boy and a girl anymore but a man and a woman. He kissed her like he was starving, like he couldn't get enough of her, and she felt exactly the same way.
She ran her hands up and down his back, feeling the play of his muscles beneath his shirt. Slipping her hands underneath the material, she heard him groan as her fingers ran down the curve of his spine. Her breasts hardened against his chest. An aching need spread through her, and as his lips left her mouth to slide along her jawline and the curve of her neck, she felt herself sigh with longing.
She wanted so much more than a make-out session on the beach, but she had a feeling getting from here to anywhere else was going to bring reason and logic back into the situation, and their passion was not going to make it off the beach.
So she'd just enjoy the moment, she told herself, putting her hands behind his head, running her fingers through the dark waves of his hair, enjoying every touch of his mouth on hers.
And then a barking dog, a splatter of sand from some flying paws, acted like a dose of cold water.
Braden rolled off of her and let out a breath. She sat up, brushing sand off her arms and out of her hair.
Wordlessly, Braden tossed her back the cell phone.
"Thanks," she said.
"This isn't working," Braden said.
"It seemed like it was working pretty well."
"Do you know what you want, Alexa?"
She hesitated, sensing the question could be answered on many different levels. "I know that one day I want to finish the kiss we keep starting."
"And then what?"
"I don't know, Braden. I can't predict the future."
"I can predict part of it. One or both of us gets hurt," he said flatly.
She didn't want to think that's what would happen, but she'd become cynical, too. "You're probably right, but I've been playing it safe for a long time. Maybe it's time I took a chance."
He shook his head, his jaw tight. "I don't know."
She didn't care for his answer.
"Well, when you do know, get back to me," she said rather sharply, as she got to her feet.
"You can't put this all on me," he protested.
"You want it all on you," she said. "You want to be in charge. You want to kiss me when you want to, and stop when you're scared."
"You're the one who stopped last night," he reminded her.
He was right. Her need for him had scared her. "You're right. You make me feel things that are terrifying to me. I saw what happened to my mother when she loved my dad."
"We would never repeat your parents' mistakes."
"No, but we would probably make enough of our own."
"So you don't know what you want," he said.
"I guess I don't. I know this -- we've always had bad timing," she said. "One of us was ready to move forward, and the other one wasn't. I don't know if that still holds true. But at some point, we're going to have to both jump at the same time, and close the door on this forever. This in-between thing is not working for me. In fact, it's making me a little crazy."
"Me, too," he muttered, running a hand through his hair. "I don't want to hurt you, Alexa."
"Then don’t."
"I can't decide right now."
"You don't have to." She brushed the sand off of her jeans. "I should go anyway."
"Where are you off to?"
"The antique shop." She paused, smiling a little as she added, "Every time I see the name on the window, Yesterday Once More, I think how very apropos that is to this whole situation. Every day that I'm here feels like it's tied to yesterday."
He nodded. "Yeah, we've been visiting the past a lot."
"Anyway, I want to look through the books that came in with the Wellbourne boxes. My dad told me earlier that Shayla kept a journal. I don't think I saw one w
hen I was unpacking, but maybe it was stuck inside another book."
"Your dad told you that?" he asked in surprise. "You saw him again?"
"Right before he bailed on breakfast."
He frowned. "Seriously? He did that to you? I know he's your father, but he's an ass."
"Yeah, but I'm used to it."
"You shouldn't have to be used to it."
"Well, he did give me a little information before he left. He said Shayla was in love with someone who made her get an abortion. His guess was that it could have been either Jack Wellbourne or Daniel Stone. Shayla told him that the man was unavailable."
"That sounds more like Jack." He paused. "Unless your dad is deliberately trying to steer you away from his involvement."
"It's no wonder I have trust issues when it comes to men," she muttered.
"I hope you don't have that issue with me," Braden said, meeting her gaze. "Because whatever happens between us, you can always trust me not to lie to you, Alexa."
She was touched by his words. "It goes both ways, you know."
He nodded and smiled. "I feel like we should pinky swear now."
She laughed. "Why don't we just seal it with a kiss? One very, short, non-threatening kiss." She went on tiptoe to touch her lips to his, a soft, gentle promise of a kiss, that reminded her very much of the first one they'd ever shared. "I'll see you later."
Chapter Fourteen
One very short, non-threatening kiss, but it still lingered on his lips, as Braden sat down with Drew in the police station. He shrugged the memory out of his mind. He needed to focus on the present.
"Where have you been?" Drew asked Braden, giving him a speculative look. "There's sand in your hair."
He ran his fingers along his scalp. "I was at the beach."
"Rolling around in the sand? I hope you weren't alone."
He ignored Drew's very interested look. "I came to talk to you about the case."
"Yeah, about that."
Drew glanced toward the Chief Hayes' office. The door was closed, but Braden could see Edwin at his desk. "I was just about to go down the street and grab a coffee. Why don't you come with me?"
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