by Marni Mann
Just because I was slowly settling into my regular spot on the back lawn, didn’t mean the thoughts inside my head had paused. If anything, the quiet nature caused those thoughts to move even faster, as if it were challenging the stillness around me. My mind played a constant slideshow of images, as though I had conducted a photo shoot in our kitchen, showing different poses of my parents on the floor: their limp limbs, the grayish tint of their skin, the blood that spread beneath them. It even came with sounds: my mother’s screams of terror, my father’s shouts of anger, the crying…Bella’s piercing howl. I knew what it would take to make it all stop.
Saint’s presence.
Swimming.
Beer and weed, on continuous repeat.
I also knew that wasn’t possible.
So instead, I looked out at the ocean, taking in the foliage from the trees that surrounded the water, the seagulls that dipped their beaks into the sea. I tried to find an in-between place, a place where I knew what was happening inside me and around me, but I was teetering on the edge of a dream—one that was inspired by the scenery and not influenced by anything in my head.
“Bet you don’t get a fall like this in Florida,” Brady said, taking a seat next to me.
I’d heard him walk down the lawn, but I’d been so close…so close to some quiet that I’d chosen to ignore his sounds, hoping that he wasn’t headed for me. But he was. He sat, planted his heels into the ground and wrapped his arms around his bent knees. He had two beers in his hand and gave me one.
“We don’t,” I told him. “This is my first time ever really seeing it. Probably my last, too.”
He smelled like wood and the grape bubblegum he was chewing. The ends of his fingers were covered in glue. I watched as he tried to pick it off. “It’s too early to say that.”
I laughed so hard I almost spilled my beer. “You actually think I would stay here?”
He took a sip of his and leaned sideways, rubbing his shoulder against mine. It was a friendly nudge and nothing more. It seemed that whatever had happened in the bathroom had fizzled out. Maybe the beer was helping him relax. “You’ve got good stuff happening here. A sick house, a dog that loves being on the water. This view.” He stared at the ocean, his glue-covered hand raking through the scruff on his chin. “You’ve got people here that care about you. You shouldn’t want to leave that.”
“So you’re saying you’d miss me if I left?” I smiled so he’d know my question was sincere as I nudged him right back.
He chuckled. “I think you’re stretching my words a little.”
“Florida isn’t that far away. You could always come visit, you know.”
“Florida isn’t far away?” His stare dropped and moved back to the ocean. “A few more of these,” he wiggled the beer in his hand, “and my truck is going to feel pretty far away.”
“It’s my home, Brady.”
“Maine could be your home, too.”
“I—“
“Just think about it. You got plenty of time.”
I stared at his profile and the way the sun reflected off his skin. Whatever tan he’d had from summer was starting to wear off; his natural coloring was coming back. His eyes popped with either skin tone. The blue was almost as light as the sky, but just a drop richer.
“I’ll think about it,” I replied.
“Good.” He tapped my knee. “So I was wondering, since I fucked up your Saturday so badly, why don’t you let me make it up to you? Nothing fancy, just someplace I’d like to take you.”
I held the bottle up to my lips, but stopped drinking when I heard his request. He wanted to take me out? Just the two of us? That felt a lot different than a house party where we were surrounded by people. It felt intimate.
“It’s not a date, Drew.” He must have sensed my apprehension.
I faced him again, relief flooding through me. “I’m definitely up for it, then.”
“How’s tonight?”
“Tonight is perfect.”
A feeling suddenly entered my chest. It fluttered down to my stomach and…I knew. It was the same sensation every time. He was here. Not on the Coswells’ property.
On his.
And as much as I wanted to keep my eyes on Brady, I couldn’t stop them from finding Saint. He walked down the dock toward his boat, a duffle bag in one hand, and several plastic grocery bags in the other. He’d left the morning after our kiss and hadn’t returned as far as I knew. I wondered if the duffle bag was from staying the night somewhere. A tourist’s room, probably. The thought made my muscles clench.
He placed the plastic bags on the ground and unlocked the front door to the boat. He made several trips inside, taking only one bag at a time. We were too far away to read each other’s faces, but I felt his eyes on me every time he moved back outside.
I felt Brady’s, too.
He’d glanced in Saint’s direction before focusing on me. “I’ll pick you up in two hours,” he told me. “Make sure you’re hungry.”
***
I had absolutely nothing to wear for my night out with Brady. I hadn’t packed much, since I hadn’t planned on staying up here this long, so I constantly repeated the few things I’d brought. Most of it didn’t match. Though it didn’t matter because I hid it all under the fleece Brady lent me. But for tonight, I wanted something that actually coordinated and would keep me warm without needing his fleece. So before he picked me up, I stopped by one of the boutiques on Main Street. The sales associate escorted me straight into a fitting room and continuously brought me things to try on. The pieces were unique, more delicate than what I would have found at a department store—which Bar Harbor didn’t have. They were also expensive, more money than I was really comfortable spending, since I didn’t have all that much left in my savings account. That meant if I wanted any of these clothes, I would have to use my parents’ money to pay for them. Aside from the repairs at our old house, I hadn’t touched their estate.
I didn’t know how I felt about blowing any of it on clothes.
While deep into my second outfit, pulling on a pair of boots she insisted I try on, I stopped myself from thinking about the money and where it came from. No more analyzing, no more dwelling. If Mom were here, she’d tell me to buy it all.
So that’s what I did.
I modeled a few more pieces for the clerk until we agreed which ones looked the best. Then I handed her my credit card and told her to bag up the two pairs of jeans, three sweaters, four long-sleeved tops, a jacket, and the boots. When she handed me the receipt, I signed my name without looking at the total and got into my car.
After a quick shower and some primping, I emerged to find Brady already in the house. He was sitting on the couch with Bella wrapped over his lap, her paws on his shoulders. She had no concept of personal space. He didn’t seem bothered by it—or by the fact that I was running really late. I didn’t know how long he’d been waiting for me. I decided not to ask.
“You ready?” he asked, tilting his head to the side so he could see past Bella’s neck. She turned her head as well and, strangely enough, I felt like my outfit received both of their approvals.
“Ready,” I answered.
He gently moved Bella off his lap and stood, brushing the stray pieces of yellow fur off him. Like the night of the house party, he was dressed a bit nicer than the way he came to work. Dark jeans, black boots, and a cotton button-down instead of flannel. His short strands of hair were gelled and styled, and he smelled of cologne. It was a spicy, woodsy-like scent that really seemed to fit him.
Bella trotted over and stopped a few inches in front of me. I had on a jacket and was holding my purse, and she knew both of those meant I was leaving. She just didn’t know that she wasn’t coming with me. “You’re going to stay here, little lady.”
“No, she’s not.”
I looked at Brady. He’d made his way over to me, standing just on the other side of Bella. His eyes were almost the exact color of his shirt. I’d never noticed the navy speck
les that rimmed the outer edges.
“She’s not?”
He shook his head and smiled. “You two are a package deal. I’m not gonna be the one to separate you.”
“Bella,” I said, glancing down at her again. She was sitting, her tail thumping against the wood floor. “Go get your leash.”
She knew exactly where I kept it and sped off to the laundry room. When she returned with it in her mouth, I clipped the hook to her collar and Brady locked the front door behind us.
“I don’t think she’s going to fit in there,” I said, pointing to his truck.
“No, she won’t. And I won’t put her in the bed of the truck, so I thought I could drive your car…if you’re okay with that?” It was as if he’d read my mind.
I handed him my keys and moved around to the passenger side, opening the backseat door for Bella. She took her usual spot directly in the middle, her paws curled around the edge of the seat, her chin resting on our armrest.
He slid the seat back several inches to accommodate his extra height, then he started the engine and shifted into reverse. “Most girls don’t know how to drive a stick.”
“I guess I’m not like most girls, then.” A heaviness entered my chest, moving into my neck and settling right in the back of my throat like I’d choked down a mouthful of ocean water. “My dad made me get a stick and taught me how to drive one. He thought every kid’s first car should be a standard.” He was the type of man who had always planned for emergencies like being stranded without an automatic to drive…so why wasn’t he prepared when that fucker had entered our house with a goddamn baseball bat?
“Your dad was smart for teaching you that.”
I had always considered my dad to be one of the smartest people I knew. Now that I knew more about his life before me, I wasn’t so sure. He had taken Mom out of Maine when she was only sixteen, before she had finished high school and neither of them had ever returned. Was that smart, or was it one of the most selfish decisions they had ever made?
I rolled down the window and leaned my face on the seatbelt, using it as a pillow. The air flowed over my cheeks. Bella moved to my side of the car and stuck her nose over my shoulder to get some of the breeze too.
“You all right over there?” Brady asked.
The cluster in my chest hadn’t gotten any smaller. I didn’t want to tell him that, though. I wanted to have a good time tonight and not think about anything else. But these last few months had proven how impossible it was to get my parents off my mind. I needed answers, or some sort of break from mulling it over. It would be hours before I could get in the water again.
I sighed, my breath causing the glass to fog. “I’m fine.”
“Fine is only going to make me pull this car over until you give me a real answer.” One hand gripped the steering wheel while the other rested on the window’s ledge. His eyes bounced between the windshield and me.
“I don’t want to ruin your night,” I said.
“There’s no way you could do that.”
“Trust me…I could.”
He swerved over to the shoulder of the street, parking on the grass that bordered it. It happened so fast I barely had time to process that we were no longer on the road.
He turned toward me, his fingers still gripping the steering wheel. “I know you’ve gone through a lot lately; that’s why I was so pissed about the party. Last thing you needed was more shit thrown at you. I was trying to stop that…to protect you.” His eyes were full of sincerity, but his knuckles had turned as white as the bandage on his hand. I felt like he was trying to stop himself from reaching forward and comforting me. I could hear the hesitation in his voice, feel it in the way he moved in his seat. I wasn’t sure if I appreciated his distance, but I understood it.
“Saturday night, I could handle.” The deep breaths I took didn’t help stop the tears. Bella leaned her face into the front seat to lick them away since I hadn’t caught them fast enough. “My parents…it’s what they kept from me that I can’t handle.” I tried to steady each inhale so I wouldn’t get the hiccups. That always happened whenever I couldn’t control my breathing. “It’s all…way…too much. Too much unknown. I deserved to know about my family.”
He reached forward and rubbed my shoulder, his fingers landing next to Bella’s face. “There’s nothing I can say, you know that. If I had answers, they’d be yours. But I can listen. Whenever you need me to. Would that help a little?”
I nodded and swallowed, wiping my eyes with the sleeve of my jacket. “Thank you.”
“No need to thank me. Just let me be here for you.”
It was kind of him to want to do that for me, even though he probably knew I wouldn’t stick around once the house sold regardless of how much persuasion he applied. But if he was offering to listen, I would take it. Maybe I needed more of that, in addition to what Gianna and Saint had done.
I wrapped my fingers around his hand and squeezed. “I’d like that.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
“A WHOOPIE PIE?” I ASKED BRADY after the waitress walked away.
“Yep.” He reached across the table and yanked the fork out of my hand. “You’re not allowed to use utensils. Only fingers. It tastes better that way.”
“How is that even possible?”
“Trust me.” He smiled and used his head to point toward the plate. “Take a bite.”
This wasn’t my first time having a whoopie pie, but I didn’t tell him that. He looked so excited to have me try it, as if he was exposing me to some new and wonderful thing, and I didn’t want to ruin that. So I picked up the treat, broke it in half, and handed him the bigger of the two pieces. I nibbled just the corner, letting the combination of flavors mix on my tongue. This one was different from what Rae had served me at the Trap House. I tasted pumpkin, and the cake was loaded with chocolate chips. The frosting in the middle was buttercream. I put my hand over my mouth. “What. Is. This?”
“Told you.” He bit off all but a small chunk of the piece I gave him. “Wait ‘til you try the red velvet one.”
“They make that flavor?” I was talking with my mouth full. I didn’t care. Red velvet was my favorite, but I honestly didn’t think anything could taste better than the pumpkin. “And it really beats this one?”
“Oh hell yeah…just wait.” He wiped his lips with a napkin and cleared his throat. “Alicia,” he shouted, flagging down our waitress as she stood by one of the dining room windows. Because we had Bella with us, we had taken a seat at one of the picnic tables outside. And it was freezing, so we were the only ones out there. “Red velvet, please,” he said when she poked her head out the window.
I shook my head. “No way. I can’t eat another one. I’m still so full from dinner.” Alicia had removed our plates before dropping off the dessert. We’d both finished our baskets of fish and chips. The fish was fried haddock which was another food I’d never had before.
He leaned over the table and snatched the rest of the whoopie pie out of my hand. “Yes, you can.” He chewed my half of the pie and called back to Alicia, “Bring us the biggest one you have.”
“Hey,” I laughed, “I wasn’t done with that.”
“I’m making sure you’ll have enough room for the next one.”
I held up my hand, showing him the frosting that had stuck to my fingers. “You left some.”
“No, I left that for you.”
Brady had obviously become really comfortable with me in a friendly way. And that’s what it felt like—friends, not flirting. It was exactly what I needed. And it showed, since I couldn’t remove the smile from my lips or stop the chuckling that came from them.
He rubbed his nose before resting his chin on his palms. His pupils widened. “It’s nice to see you laughing.”
It was a much different sound than what had come from me when we’d been parked on the side of the road just an hour ago. I’d told him the whole story of my parents’ death. I’d paused several times as I spoke, emotion m
aking it too difficult to say it all at once. It seemed that every time I told someone, I reacted differently.
“It feels good to laugh,” I confided.
He reached across the table again and tucked a piece of hair behind my ear. “You should do it more often. It suits you.”
I didn’t know how to respond to that. Thankfully, Alicia returned to our table and placed the red velvet whoopie pie between us. This one was much thicker than the pumpkin. I picked up a knife to cut the cake in half, but Brady’s hand landed on mine before I could.
“Nope. Fingers only,” he said.
“What is it with the fingers?”
“It makes it taste better. It’s like eating lobster…Mainers don’t use a fork; only tourists do. It fucks up the flavor.”
I shook my head and smiled. “Whatever you say.” Once again, I used my hands to break it in half, handing one piece to him, and taking a bite of the other. “Wow.”
He grinned. “Didn’t I tell you?”
Even though our night had started off with tears, Brady was able to take my mind off my parents—and with something as simple as whoopie pies. His smile had become infectious. So were his eyes. It almost seemed as if they had darkened as the night had gone on.
I nodded much more emphatically than I needed to. “You did. It’s…amazing.”
***
I pushed off the wall of rock into my final streamline and counted three butterfly kicks before I surfaced into a freestyle crawl. I knew the water was colder than anything I’d ever gone swimming in. But sweat seeped out of every pour and my chest heaved as I tried to calm my breath. I had sprinted the last two-hundred-yards and my bikini was threatening to fall off from the drag. I really needed to buy a wetsuit… there was no way I’d give up my daily swims just because the water was too cold.
When I reached the edge of the pool, I curved my fingers around the rock and filled my lungs with the icy air. My shoulders tingled and pulsed from the strain I’d put them through. As my breathing slowed, I pulled myself onto the peninsula. With my butt on the smooth rock and my knees tucked into my chest, I wrapped the beach towel around me.