Two Blue Lines (Crossing The Line #1)

by Sc Montgomery

  I tilted my head, deepening the kiss, tasting her unique sweetness, sliding my tongue along hers. She pressed against me, her little moans rippling down my flesh, riding my nerve endings like electrical shocks.

  This.

  I loved this.

  I loved her.

  Call me a sap, but I couldn’t help myself.

  I slid my hand down her waist, her hip. The curve of her belly, cupping our baby.

  Slowly, she drew back, her breathing ragged, her fingers clenched in my T-shirt. She stared at me with wide, glazed eyes, her lips slightly parted and moist.

  I pressed one last kiss to her mouth then pulled away and grabbed her hand. “Ready?”

  She nodded, looking a little shell shocked, which I found so adorable. We’ve made out plenty of times. “Yeah.”

  She got herself together by the time we made it into the boardwalk amusement park and I bought our armbands for the rides and a couple sodas. Her eyes strayed to a young couple with a baby that was obviously of a different race. The baby’s big dark eyes were bright with laughter as the dad tickled its tummy. I wondered what Mel was thinking. The couple walked on and she faced me, her grin sweet and innocent and a tad wistful. “So, you really planned today for our anniversary?”

  I shrugged and sipped my drink. Treading lightly. “Sure. Three years is a long time.”

  She let it go and led the way to the carousel. She smiled at me like a kid and we tossed our empty cups and hopped aboard. She hefted herself onto the unicorn and I sat on the bear next to her watching her giggle in the sunlight.

  Next up, the fun house. Kinda lame, especially watching Mel frown at herself in the wall of mirrors that made her look short and squat. I hauled her outta there and to the row of games to try my luck at the ring toss. I sucked. No stuffed duck for Mel. Thank goodness she laughed off my lack of throwing skill.

  “You’ll never be a quarterback, babe,” she said.

  “Yeah, yeah,” I agreed with a chagrinned shrug, my eyes lighting on the Ferris wheel. We stood there a few minutes watching it go around before we finally got in line. I stood behind her and wrapped my arms around her waist, resting my chin on her head. She tucked her hands into mine and leaned against me.

  When it was finally our turn, we settled into one of the cars and started the slow ascent to the top. From up there, the ocean was a giant undulating mass of milky blue, dotted with tiny boats and even tinier people. The boardwalk below us, which was a noisy mass of people and amusement park games, lights, and the scents of junk food, became surreally distant, small enough to look like a model.

  The wind bumped our car gently, and above us the sky was so pale blue, it almost appeared white.

  And the silence . . .

  So high, it was an achingly quiet, tender world.

  Mel snuggled into my side, sliding her shoulder under my arm. I knew she hated heights, so she was being super brave. I brushed a kiss to her crown.

  We began to move again, slowly. My mind moved just as slowly, as if underwater. As if being this high was giving me a different perspective, quieting my brain.

  We circled around a couple more times, my mind easing along with each rotation.

  By the time we got off, I felt like a Zen master. Guess my girl knew I needed that. As we disembarked, she stayed quiet and led me to a bench.

  “You okay?” she asked when we sat.

  “Yeah.”

  She shoulder-checked me. “You sure?”

  I nodded.

  “You still upset about the other night at work?”

  I studied her face. She hadn’t said much about Jeremiah trying to choke her and the way I’d gone all Rambo on his ass afterwards. “Nah. It’s done. I’m just quiet, I guess. Thinking.”

  She nodded and her eyes drifted to a family with a couple of small kids in strollers as they walked by, one of the babies screaming its lungs out. “Thinking about what?” she asked, her voice a little timid as if she was afraid of what I’d say.

  I toed the pebbly gravel. My thoughts had been an ebb and flow, nothing concrete, definitely nothing worth ruining our day over. I gazed up into her worried brown eyes. “Not much, really. Just how much I love you,” I said with a lazy smile.

  I saw the disbelief swim across her face. Chased by relief. “Whatever.” She let it go. She tipped her weight against me and grabbed my hand. “If you really loved me, you’d buy me cotton candy.”

  So my girl wanted me to prove my undying love with spun sugar? I was on it. I nodded once and popped up. “Oh, I love you all right.” I winked and headed to the snack vendor to order her cotton candy plus a hamburger for us to share, a Mountain Dew, and a bag of Twizzlers. I was going to prove my devotion if I died doing it . . . a little sugar rush wouldn’t hurt the baby, right?

  She ogled my bounty when I returned.

  “Yeah, babe.” I smirked. “Who loves you?”

  She snagged the bags of licorice and cotton candy, making me wonder if pregnant women only consumed sugar. She popped them both open as I bit the burger. I offered her a bite and she accepted between sugary swallows.

  I leaned over and kissed her sweet mouth, tasting nothing but the sugar from the cotton candy. I licked the stickiness from my lips.

  Her eyes slid open slowly, dreamily. “Thank you.”

  A gust of wind kicked up, swirling her hair into her face. The strands were like silk through my fingers as I brushed them back. “For what?”

  Her eyes dipped to her lap. “This has been the best day.”

  “And?”

  Her eyes tilted back up to mine. “And?”

  It had been the best day. But I could see something else, something weighing her down like a heavy coat. “And what else? Why do you look so sad if this has been a good day?”

  She sighed and licked the stickiness from her fingers. “I’m not sad. It’s just . . .”

  “Just what?”

  The sunlight glinted off her hair, across her skin. Emotions rolled across her expressive face as she processed whatever she was feeling. I waited.

  She finally met my gaze. “It’s just been a long time since we’ve been us. Like this.” She looked away. “Know what I mean?”

  I swallowed. Yeah, I did. I gathered myself and told her so.

  Her eyes filled with relief at my admission. Maybe we were in sync again . . . at last.

  I wrapped my arm around her shoulders. “So, now that we’re us again, let’s ride the bumper cars.”

  Disappointment crinkled her brow. “I can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  She swept a hand over her belly. “Peanut.”

  Oh. Right. We’re us plus one now.

  October 15th

  Today was the perfect day! It’s me and Reed’s three year anniversary, and he took me to Kemah. I saw this couple with a baby that was obviously adopted. Her dark features were nothing like her white parents. My heart ached for a hundred reasons as I studied her. I hope she’s happy, never questions she’s loved.

  That’s what I want for my baby. For myself.

  But today, I felt super loved. Normal even. For those few brief hours, it felt like it used to between us. Maybe better.

  I even forgot about all the secrets weighing me down for a while.

  At least until I had to pass up the bumper cars . . . my favorite. Sometimes, being pregnant really sucks.

  Karma

  The following Saturday, I got off work early enough to meet Jonah at the rec center and shoot some hoops while Melissa went shopping with her mom. As I pulled in and parked, I realized I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen him. I was always working or with Mel, and he’d been pretty wrapped up with Chloe lately.

  Was this all I had to look forward to?

  Killing the ignition, I skimmed the parking lot and adjacent grassy fields, looking for him. I finally spotted him lounging by the court, his baggy red basketball shorts shining in the sinking sun.

  Loping toward him, I grinned when he zi
pped his eyes away from the chicks he was checking out across at the volleyball court. “Hey, dude.” He stood with a half-grin. “Ready to get your ass handed to you again?”

  “In your dreams.”

  He ignored me and jogged across to half-court and scooped up the ball. He began dribbling and loped over to toss in a quick basket.

  We began sprinting up and down the court in a less than friendly game of one-on-one until we were drenched in sweat.

  Man, it felt good. Normal. Easy.

  I lobbed the winning point in with no rim.

  Jonah grunted and leaned over with his hands on his knees. “Two out of three?” he panted.

  “What?” I panted in return, heading for my water bottle. “Can’t take your ass whooping like a man?”

  I dodged the ball before it nailed me in the head.

  He shuffled over and wilted on the bench to reach for his own water bottle for a big chug. He glanced at me. “How’s Melissa?”

  “Good.”

  He sipped again and toweled the sweat off his head. “So y’all are good now?”

  My gaze snapped to his. Thankfully, he hadn’t noticed how strange she’d been with him the last few times we were all together. I couldn’t have explained it if he asked anyway. But I guess he’s got bigger things to think about. “Yeah. We’re good.”

  “Cool.”

  I nodded. I’d always liked that I didn’t have to say much with Jonah. He just got me. For that matter, I got him, too. “And Chloe? How’s stuff with her? Good?”

  He smiled. “Yeah. I like her.”

  Huh. I hadn’t seen him all googly-eyed like this about a girl before. Too bad it had to be her. But I had to ask the thing that had been on my mind . . . “And Robin?”

  His brows crinkled. “What about her?”

  “Well . . . I—”

  Understanding dawned. “I know we partied on Homecoming, but it’s no big deal, dude.” His face relaxed with a smile. “If you’re worried she’ll bother you now that she’s home in Dallas, and ruin things for you and Melissa, I wouldn’t. Chloe said she’s a party girl. She’s not looking for a man.”

  I sighed, nodded, tried to believe him. “Okay, cool. Thanks.”

  He opened his mouth to say something more, but his cell phone rang and interrupted us.

  He glanced at the screen with a frown then answered. “Yeah.”

  I sipped my drink and let the breeze dry the sweat on my face as the muffled voice on the other end of the phone continued and Jonah turned his face away.

  A pigeon landed at our feet, pecking at some invisible crumbs, its gray feathers mirroring my friend’s suddenly darkening mood. He shifted and his shoulders tensed visibly, a weird emotion rolling off him in waves.

  “Okay,” he finally said, speaking for the first time. “I’ll be home soon.” He ended the call and tossed the phone on the bench between us.

  I said nothing, sensing his teetering mood, as I peeked at him from the corner of my eye. There was always shit going on at his house and I knew he’d speak up if he wanted . . .

  “Noah’s dead.”

  He dropped that bomb without looking at me. Without moving. Just staring off in the distance, his hands gripping his knees like lifelines.

  I had to do a double-take. “Say what?”

  Now he looked at me, his eyes dark voids. Emotionless. “He’d barely made it out of boot camp. Hadn’t even been given a permanent assignment yet.” He tilted his head like he was computing something that didn’t make sense. Would never make sense. “He was killed in a bar fight last night. Stabbed.”

  I stared at him, not sure what to say. What he wanted me to say. What he was feeling. Cuz I wasn’t feeling much of anything. Respect to the dead and all, but Noah was a prick. An abusive, foul-mouthed, black-hearted, mean, overgrown prick, and I for one, wasn’t that sad. He got what he had coming.

  But he was my best friend’s oldest brother.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, clasping his shoulder.

  He nodded once and slid to stand, looking a little dazed. “I guess I need to get home. My mom’s kinda freakin’ out.”

  “Sure.” I watched him collect his phone and pull out his keys, his eyes still dull, lifeless, freakishly empty. “You sure you’re okay?” I asked.

  He met my gaze. “Yeah.” He glanced down and fiddled with his key fob for a moment. “Well . . . the thing is, I really am okay . . .”

  “That’s good—”

  “But,” he interrupted as though he was talking to himself, “I know I shouldn’t be.” He drew in a huge breath, his eyes pinned to the ground. “He was my brother. My brother . . .” The word was drawn out on a pained whisper. “So why do I feel nothing but relief?”

  I didn’t get a chance to respond—not that I’d have known what to say—as he spun to go with a quick ‘see ya’ tossed over his shoulder.

  And I found that I, too, felt nothing but relief.

  Mel didn’t answer her phone so I headed to the beach alone. I wasn’t up to going home just yet. I needed to find solace and I could only find it at Lettie’s place.

  I parked and let the whipping beach breeze urge me toward my destination.

  I ambled past the pier. Past a dead jellyfish, lying helpless in the sand, alone and tangled in the knotty seaweed. I made my way to where the sand gets noticeably less compact, softer. I welcomed the stinging of the wind in my eyes.

  Even though it was fall, the weather was unseasonably warm, the sun still breathing heat on my shoulders through my T-shirt. But, as I neared the pristine church-white cross, the waves pounding in the background, I felt the emotional knot easing already. But what I didn’t quite understand was why it was there. Yes, I had the whole ‘I’m gonna be a dad’ thing, but I’d been dealing. Or trying to.

  No, it was that day’s junk.

  I sank to my knees in front of the marker and brushed the debris away. I did the same in my mind, excavating through the memories of my friendship with Jonah. His family might be crap, but we were rock solid. Had been since we were ten and were the Hot Wheels bandits together. And even then, as young and naïve as I was, I understood his family’s dysfunction after my first taste. Even at ten years old, you understand when your friend is scared of his dad. Especially when you see that first backhand. But when his brother mimicked that behavior, even louder and meaner, you caught on pretty quick that there was something fundamentally wrong. I hurt for Jonah.

  And now his brother was gone.

  I pulled my sister’s face into focus and tried to imagine how that must feel. I couldn’t do it. Was Jonah grieving? Why would he? As hard as I tried, I couldn’t remember one redeeming quality about Noah. Not one. And that made me so sad. So there, on my knees, I wept.

  October 20th

  I swear to God, I’m getting so fat! I have nothing to wear and I feel like a beached whale. I’m swollen, moody, hungry all the time. Yuck.

  I had another nightmare last night, too. But I brushed it off and went shopping with Mom. I got some actual maternity clothes so I won’t have to keep wearing baggy shirts and stupid dresses. But those stretchy elastic waistbands . . . ?

  The whole time we were out, Mom kept giving me weird looks, even patted my stomach once. I think she’s getting excited. She got especially goo-goo and teary-eyed at the baby stuff and bought a few things. I didn’t stop her, though I wonder if Reed will be upset. I know he’s working so hard to try and provide everything for this baby.

  I saw some mothers with their kids at the mall and it was totally unreal thinking someday soon that’ll be me. Hope I don’t screw it up. If I haven’t already.

  Oh, Reed is finally done playing basketball with Jonah and he’s texting, gotta go!

  Cherry Bombs and Caskets

  Melissa finally answered my text messages and I drove over to her house straight from the beach.

  She met me at the door in sunshine yellow pajama pants and one of my old T-shirts, her belly barely making a dent in it. Her face
was freshly washed. Devoid of makeup, I could make out the multitude of freckles on her now rounder face, and she was wearing the glasses I hardly ever saw her in now that she’d nagged her parents into contact lenses. She was adorable and I just wanted to lose myself in her arms and forget the mess in my mind.

  She tipped her glasses up on her nose and tilted her face, studying me as if she sensed something off in my demeanor. “Hi.”

  “Hey.”

  She opened the door and ushered me inside. I followed her to her room after she got me a soda from the kitchen, her little bare feet pattering on the linoleum.

  She shut her bedroom door behind me and I sagged onto the edge of her bed. “How was your day?”

  She blinked at me a few times. “Good. I got a few more things I can fit, now that I’m getting bigger. We got the baby some stuff.” She walked over and sat next to me, put her head on my shoulder. “But my legs are super swollen. What about you? How was work?”

  Oh, right. I had worked that day. “It was fine.”

  “Mom seems to be loosening up. We even talked a little bit.” She shifted and pressed her lips to my collarbone briefly. “But I missed you.”

  I gripped her hand, the words not there yet.

  “Hey,” she said. “Don’t forget, we have our next appointment with Dr. Foster on Halloween.” She giggled. “Trick or treat.”

  I nodded against her hair. “Sure.”

  She peered up into my eyes. “What’s wrong, baby? You’ve been quiet since you got here.”

  My mind drifted back to Jonah . . . the void we both wished we could fill with some kind of grief. I dropped my head. “Jonah’s brother . . . Noah . . .”

  She sat up ramrod straight, her voice suddenly barbed wire sharp, “What about him?”

  “Uh . . .” Her reaction puzzled me, but I pushed it aside. Nobody really liked Noah, after all. “He’s dead. Stabbed in a bar fight.”