Pulled Beneath

by Marni Mann

I nodded.

  “I’ll share more than that.”

  I could tell he was serious, but the smirk on his face made me laugh. “Well then…how about sharing your water, too?” The memory of it was kind of funny now.

  He leaned into me, softly kissing my cheek. “I was pretty mean back then, wasn’t I?”

  I pouted, and nodded once more.

  “I won’t be mean like that again…unless you want me to.”

  ***

  As much as I wanted to spend the rest of the night on the boat, I had to return to Bella. Brady and Shane had left several hours ago; they would have taken her out for me, but she still needed to be fed and walked and loved.

  During the ride back to the Trap House, I sat next to Saint in the dingy. My fingers gripped the plank behind my butt while his hand rested on my thigh. It all felt so right.

  “That’s my second boat,” he said, pointing to a navy colored ship that wasn’t far from the one we had been on. “And that right there is the third member of my fleet. I just bought that one last winter.” He also showed me restaurants and markets that he did business with as we passed them on the water. “And over there is my tidal pound.”

  I scanned the inlet that he pointed toward: a small cove between two fingers of land. I looked for a building or structure beyond the water, but there wasn’t one. “Isn’t a pound a restaurant?”

  The lights from the shore lit up his face, revealing his smile and his bold eyes. He was so humble when he spoke about his business. He obviously had a career he was passionate about and I couldn’t help but envy him. Before we had left the lobster boat, he told me how he’d worked as a kid and took over when things fell apart for his dad. His grandfather helped until he could manage it all on his own. Since the hand-off, he’d continued to build the business, and now at twenty-five years old, he was one of the largest lobster distributors in the state.

  His brows furrowed. “This is boring shit for you, isn’t it?”

  “No,” I said, moving even closer. I started to rub the back of his neck again. I liked the way his body relaxed as I ran my fingers through his hair. “Nothing about you is boring. I want to know everything. Seriously.”

  I could feel how much he appreciated that. I sensed a trust truly beginning to form between us. Maybe that was because I genuinely cared about what he did. His passion was inspiring. I wasn’t quite ready to reach into my back pocket to grab my phone and load my camera app or to ask Gianna to mail me my camera. But seeing how much Saint loved his work, I was definitely getting closer.

  “Then to answer your question,” he said, “a pound is a restaurant. But a tidal pound is where I keep the lobsters before I ship them out, as well as the overflow from what I don’t sell in town.”

  “So the city just allows you to use that water for storage?”

  “I actually own the cove, but yes, that’s what it’s designed for. Some of the guys around here have off-site tanks and facilities. I prefer the old school method; keeping the lobsters in their natural habitat maintains their freshness and health.”

  Brady had told me everyone knew Saint. That statement made even more sense now that I was learning all of this about him. There was so much more to him than a hard body and a memorable face.

  “You said you ship out the lobsters, so where do they go?” I asked.

  “All over the country. A few miles beyond the tidal pound is a warehouse where we do all the shipping.”

  “You own that, too?”

  He nodded. “I bought it two years ago. As for the cove, I inherited that from my grandparents. Those are hard to come by nowadays. I’m lucky to have one.” His thumb caressed my bottom lip. No one had ever really touched me there before—at least not like he did. It was a tender embrace.

  “Something’s wrong,” he said. “Tell me what it is.”

  “I’m just so impressed by you. Sounds strange, I know, but I am.”

  He closed his eyes for a brief second like he was taking it all in. “It doesn’t sound strange at all. Thank you.”

  When we reached the Trap House, he tied the dingy to the dock, but he didn’t get out. He helped me stand as we stayed in the center of the boat, our hands clasped behind my back. “I told you before that there was a time in my life when I’d felt trapped.” His grip tightened; his breathing became deeper and slightly strained. “I lost control. I followed my dad’s path, drinking, smoking…it was bad. I’m telling you this because things haven’t always been like this for me. I found my way out of the cage, but I smashed into the bars so many times before I made it through.”

  The honesty of his confession began to resonate. His description, his pain, his darkness. He’d found his way out of his cage.

  Maybe that meant I’d find my way out, too.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  SAINT’S CAGE OF DARKNESS closely resembled my own. Since losing my parents, I had changed. I was treading water, paddling with no current to guide me. None of my days had purpose anymore. All I did was get through them. Instead of working with my camera and training my eyes to find the perfect shot, I reached for a bottle of booze and tried to blind myself. I only called Gianna when I needed someone to listen; I wasn’t there for her at all. My body was a little too lean because I wasn’t eating properly and more muscular than it had ever been from all the swimming. Stroking my way through the ocean was the only thing that reminded me of who I used to be, the only thing that allowed me to let go of what my life had become.

  I’d been banging my head against the bars, trying to break free.

  Suddenly, I wanted to find the latch.

  In order to do that, I needed to change some things—the first being to clarify my relationship with Brady. I’d hoped that all he wanted was friendship, and he’d told me as much, but I had to make sure. So when he reminded me the next morning that we were supposed to go into town and shop for a wetsuit, I asked him if we could skip and just have dinner instead. Since going to a restaurant meant we’d most likely stop at a bar on the way home, I told him I wanted to eat at the Coswells’ house. I didn’t need any more of his drunken anger. But I did need to give Maine more of a chance, and I needed to do the same with this house—to embrace it as a possible new home and a new beginning. I couldn’t do that if I was spending all my time outside and in the ocean.

  So I went to the grocery store and the fish market and bought everything I needed for dinner. The kitchen was still a mess from the renovation, but all the appliances worked and there was a small chunk of countertop that I could use for the prep work. This was the first time I’d done more than just microwave in this house.

  It was a step forward, at least.

  There was a pan of mussels, clams, shrimp, and haddock lightly sautéing on the stovetop. I turned down the temperature for the red sauce and let the red pepper flakes and garlic seep in under a low simmer. Garlic bread was browning in the oven. The radio Shane kept on hand was playing pop tunes, and plastic plates and silverware were on the table.

  I heard Brady open the front door as I took the pasta over to the sink to drain.

  “What’s that smell?” he asked, coming into the kitchen. “Don’t tell me you actually cooked something?”

  I looked behind me, the pot still in my hands. “I hope that’s okay?”

  “Okay?” He dropped something on the table and hurried over. “I was expecting pizza like I’ve had for the last three days. It’s more than okay. Here, let me help you.” He grabbed the metal handles, leaving me enough room so I could slide my fingers out. Then he finished draining the pasta and glanced to the stove where the sauce was bubbling. “You want it all mixed together?”

  “Please.”

  He dumped the pasta into the sauce, and I added in the seafood. He took the spoon from my hand and stirred it all together. “You really made this?” He’d snuck a sample and was dipping the spoon in again for a second taste. He took a shrimp with it this time.

  “Why…is it bad?” I asked. “Because if
it is, we can—“

  “It’s incredible. You’re going to have to stop me from eating it all.”

  I smiled.

  “I brought beer,” he said, moving over to the table where he had left his eighteen-pack. “Let me get you one.”

  “None for me.” I held my water bottle into the air. “I’m sticking with this tonight.”

  I was hoping he’d change his mind and do the same.

  ***

  Brady stretched out across one side of the couch, and I took the other. Bella was between us. The TV hummed in the front of the room, showing a movie I recognized, but I was too lazy to turn up the volume so I could hear it. And I was way too full. We’d finished all the pasta… and I’d made enough to serve four.

  The cushion behind me moved when Brady lifted his arm to sip his beer. He’d drunk all through dinner and the whole time we’d been sitting on the couch. Now that I thought about it, a bottle hadn’t left his hand all night. He’d even taken one into the bathroom. Since it was such a huge part of his life, more than I’d realized, I figured I had to tell him about my decision.

  “I’m taking a break from drinking.” I’d blurted it out, probably faster than I needed to.

  He rolled his head toward me. “Why would you do something like that?”

  His question surprised me.

  “I think I’ve been drinking a little too much lately,” I said.

  “I wouldn’t worry about it. It’s not like you have a problem or anything.” His words were really starting to slur. I’d counted the beers he’d had out of the eighteen-pack and there were only four left.

  “I’m not worried.” I searched his face. His eyes were bloodshot, and his cheeks were turning even more flushed. “I’m just trying to make some changes. Some good ones, you know?”

  He shrugged. “Not much to do around here besides drink.”

  “We’ll just have to find other stuff to do, then.” I waited for him to respond. He didn’t. “Or are you going to ditch me now because I won’t drink with you?”

  “Nah.” He sat up a little and crossed his legs. “Just because you’re stopping doesn’t mean I have to. And anyway…we’re doing nothing now and I’m having fun.”

  I wanted to talk to him about more than just my drinking. Rae’s accusation was still on my mind, that he and Saint were in competition over who could fuck me first, and that Brady had somehow been whipped by me. It seemed to tie into Saint’s similar theory about Brady. I really wasn’t sure if I believed any of it. I saw him every day at the house while he worked, and we often went for drinks at night. None of that meant he had it for me.

  “We’re good, right?” I placed my feet on the floor and turned toward him, holding the edge of the couch between my fingers. “Things between us, I mean. We’re friends and nothing more?”

  “You’re my buddy, Drew. Never saw us being more than that.” His eyelids were getting heavier. He was rubbing his nose much harder than he needed to.

  “I’m glad to hear you say that,” I replied, taking a deep breath, “because I want to tell you about Saint. I know things aren’t good between you two—“

  “You’re going to tell me about Saint?” He rolled his head back and forth over the cushions, exasperated before I’d even really said anything. “What could you possibly tell me about that fucker that I don’t already know?”

  I knew he wasn’t going to like hearing any of this, but I had to tell him. I felt like I owed him an explanation, especially since I’d be seeing much more of Saint from now on. I took another deep breath. “I…like him.”

  The air in the room instantly turned humid, mostly from Brady’s breathing; he was practically huffing. The tension in his body began to build visibly. He was twisting the corners of the pillows in his hands.

  “Don’t you dare tell me that!” he shouted.

  My body froze from the anger in his voice. “Look, I’m not getting in the middle of whatever you two have going on. But there’s no reason why I can’t have feelings for him and be friends with you, too.”

  “Bullshit!” he yelled, his nails raking over the stubble on his jaw. “You’ll drop my ass as soon as you start dating him.”

  The scent of his beer breath hit me in the face and turned my stomach. I didn’t want to smell it anymore, or to watch how it made him behave—how it changed his voice and brought about the lost look in his eyes. It reminded me of Saint’s dad, and that image scared the shit out of me.

  “Brady—“

  “I’ve heard all this before, Drew. That fucking bastard took her away from me…she would have been mine, but he grabbed her first. Then he broke her and I had to pick up the pieces.”

  He hadn’t said her name, but I knew he was ranting about Rae.

  It didn’t necessarily bother me that she had dated Saint—we all had pasts that we couldn’t change—I just wished she wasn’t Brady’s best friend. It only added to how fucked-up this whole thing already was.

  “You’re only comparing me to Rae because you’re drunk.”

  “No…I’m comparing you to Rae because he’s going to do the same thing to you that he did to her,” he slurred. “You’ll end up just like she did.”

  I’d heard enough. I pushed myself off the couch.

  He grabbed my wrist as I moved past him. “Don’t do it.” His light blue eyes were pleading with me. “Don’t be just another one of them.”

  The tourists.

  I yanked my fingers out of his grip. “I can’t believe you would say that to me.”

  “It’s the fucking truth.”

  It wasn’t even close to the truth. But it wasn’t my place to tell Brady how Saint really spent his nights. And I sure as hell wasn’t going to justify his suspicions by telling him that I wasn’t the type to spread my legs for just anyone. Still, I wasn’t going to just let it go.

  “That’s how you see me—like one of them…whoever they even are? You think that little of me?”

  “They all choose that piece of shit over me…and now, so have you.” He got off the couch and stumbled his way into the kitchen. I followed him, watching as he almost pulled the door off the fridge when he tried to open it. He took out a beer and slammed the top of it against the counter to remove the cap. He chugged most of it. “When he wrecks you like he did Rae, you’re going to come running back to me. But I’m not going to want to hear about it.” He held the bottle aloft and covered his ears with the palms of his hands. “Not hearing it. None of it. Not again.” His legs wobbled as he walked out of the kitchen and toward the living room. He shouted over his shoulder, “Really whoring yourself out, Drew. I thought you were better than that.”

  I didn’t follow him this time. I searched the kitchen for my phone and called him a taxi. I wanted him out of this house, but there was no way I’d let him drive. Once I hung up, I stuck my face underneath the faucet and gulped down mouthfuls. Water calmed me and gave me a little more patience. That’s exactly what I needed. Everything inside me felt like it was steaming.

  Making my way back into the living room, I paused in the doorway when I realized he wasn’t in there. I turned and circled the dining room, checked the downstairs bathroom, and laundry room. I stopped when I noticed Bella sitting by the front door. It was wide open and his truck was no longer in the driveway.

  He had left.

  I called his cell phone, but he didn’t answer. I called again as I ran to the kitchen to grab my keys. I had my hand on the car door and Bella directly behind me, and I froze…I had no idea where he lived, or where he would have gone. And I didn’t know the roads very well. He was at least a few minutes ahead of me and I didn’t know which direction he’d headed in.

  I needed help.

  I hated to do it, but Brady’s safety was in danger and the safety of anyone else he shared the road with.

  I pulled up my list of contacts and dialed Shane’s number. “It’s Drew.”

  “Are you all right?” he answered. His voice was deep and scratchy. I h
ad woken him up.

  “I’m fine, but Brady’s had way too much to drink and he’s driving. I don’t know where he went and I don’t even know where to look for him and I have a really bad feeling about this and…” I was starting to hyperventilate.

  “Drew, I need you to calm down.” He stayed steady. “Take a deep breath for me, and tell me where you are.”

  I turned and pressed my back against the car, letting it hold my weight. “I’m at the Coswells’ house.”

  I heard rustling as he got out of bed. “I’m going to go look for him. Just keep your phone on you in case he calls, okay?”

  “Okay,” I whispered. “Will you let me know if you find him?”

  “Of course.”

  “Thank you.” The wind whipped past me, blowing my hair into my face, covering my arms in goose bumps. I couldn’t stop shivering. Bella rubbed her snout over my jeans and weaved her body through my legs as if she was trying to warm me. “Shane…this is my fault.”

  He sighed into the phone. “We both know that’s not true.”

  I didn’t know that.

  I shouldn’t have brought up Saint. That name did something to Brady; it turned him into a different person. It amped up his anger… and he had so much of it.

  She would have been mine, but he grabbed her first.

  Brady had feelings for Rae. And he’d lost her to Saint.

  And now, I was squarely in the middle of it.

  “I have to go, Drew,” Shane said, breaking up my thoughts. “I’ll be in touch soon.”

  ***

  I knocked on Saint’s door and quickly buried my hand in the sleeve of my sweatshirt. My skin stung from the cold. I’d never felt a temperature as low as this before; my body didn’t know how to handle it. I definitely needed to buy more clothes, even warmer than the ones I’d gotten the week before.

  He answered the door without a shirt on and my eyes immediately went to his abs. I didn’t think it was possible, but they looked even tighter, more defined in this light. My stare dipped to the sweatpants that hung low on his waist, revealing a thin trail of hair that started at his bellybutton and disappeared under the elastic.