Two Blue Lines (Crossing The Line #1)

by Sc Montgomery

  How could you? How could you? How could you?

  She was mine . . . I loved her . . . she was mine . . .

  I pounded out those words like a mantra as I pounded my fists into his face. Over and over. But something else in that dark Halloween night taunted me. Slayed me.

  I think it might’ve been the silent, wounded way Jonah took his ass beating, never once raising a hand to defend himself.

  October 31st

  Fix Me

  I left Jonah slumped and bleeding in his Bermuda grass and sunk into my car, breathing hard, my heart thumping an erratic tattoo in my chest. I’d meant to tell him a thousand things, to wail on him for breaking my heart, yes, but also to make him—literally force him if I had to—stand up and do what was right. My God . . . what if that was his baby? Could my heart take that kind of pulverizing?

  I seriously wasn’t sure.

  I roared the ignition to a start and eyed him through the windshield. All I could make out was his outline in the darkness, the porch light several feet behind him. He didn’t move. His eyes, though I couldn’t see them, seemed to eat me up in the blackness. But what did he have to be angry with me about? I wasn’t the one who had committed the ultimate backstabbing.

  I threw my car into reverse and tore out of his driveway, hating that I felt angrier than when I’d arrived, my agony literally eating my soul a new one.

  I pounded the steering wheel and slammed my foot down on the gas.

  Away.

  I. Needed. Away.

  Now.

  Now.

  Now.

  Yesterday.

  The car picked up speed as my heartbeat accelerated in my ears, my fury riding my bloodstream like a drug, surging me forward.

  I gripped the wheel, wishing I could get a grip in my head. My heart. Wishing an ounce of this pain would go away so I could breathe.

  I couldn’t breathe.

  No air.

  I was choking. Suffocating on my own blinding, raging, agonizing, all-consuming wrath.

  As I neared the last bend at the entrance of Jonah’s subdivision, I flexed my fingers, ignoring the ache from what would probably be bloody, swollen knuckles, and urged the car faster. I needed away. Where, I didn’t care right now.

  Then, in less than a blink, a blur darted out into the street a few yards in front of me. As fast as I was going, I barely had time to react . . .

  My heart stuffed in my throat, I slammed on the brakes with both feet, my tires skidding ominously, my car fishtailing as it came to a halt, barely avoiding the wide-eyed creature.

  I swallowed as my adrenalin surged. Holy shit. That was close.

  A woman came running out into the street screaming and scooped up the little girl, who was staring at me with wide, dark eyes. I stared back, realizing for the first time that I’d nearly killed a child. A little girl, maybe four or five by the looks of her, in a cowgirl costume, with a spill of dark brown hair . . . and those eyes.

  Mel’s eyes, I realized.

  I studied my hands, realizing they were shaking, and heaved a breath. I could not go there.

  I sat there unmoving for several seconds until I got it together. And still I shook. Finally, I drove on, forcing myself to go slower, my anger miraculously fizzled, replaced by visions of those big, brown eyes. I tried not to wonder if the baby would have eyes like that, and mentally kicked my own ass for the thought. Stupid.

  I wandered around town for a while going nowhere in particular. I grabbed a burger and a milkshake I barely touched, and pulled over to fill up my gas tank.

  My cell rang and I frowned, knowing it couldn’t possibly be Jonah. Or Mel. I vaguely recognized the number, but it wasn’t coming right to me. “Hello?”

  “Hey, dude, it’s Mike.”

  I topped off the tank and got back in the car. “Hey. What’s up?”

  Laughter and conversation floated in the background behind him. “We’re having a bonfire on the west end of Surfside. We thought we’d see if you and your girl wanted to come by.” A girl squealed and he mumbled something I didn’t catch.

  Damn. I didn’t know what to say. The truth was way too messy. “Oh. Um. That’s cool.”

  “So you guys’ll come?”

  I checked my watch. I had nowhere to be. I sure didn’t want to go home. The hospital was out. “Sure. But just me. Mel’s . . . uh, not feeling good tonight.” The lie slid off my tongue easily enough. Was it too much to ask to just forget and be young tonight? I’d had enough bullshit today. I could deal tomorrow. Maybe never.

  “Oh. Too bad. Then I guess you can bring your sorry ass by, we’ll be here, waiting.” More laughter.

  “’Kay.”

  We hung up and I stared at the phone, feeling strangely empty. I ignored the hollowness and headed toward Surfside.

  Fingers of orange flame danced lazily against the velvet black night, pops of golden embers cascading off the bonfire, as I slowly strolled up, taking in the laughing crowd.

  Mike and his girlfriend, Mackenzie, were snuggled up dancing next to the small radio as it played some smooth love song, a soda in each of their hands.

  Aaron and Dean were shirtless, tossing a football just out of the light of the fire while a group of kids, several of whom I didn’t recognize, looked on, laughing, talking, drinking.

  “Hey.”

  I tugged my long sleeves down to cover the baby band that felt like a branding iron on my wrist and glanced into a smiling face with slightly glazed eyes. Um, Sierra, Dean’s girl, I think? “Hey,” I murmured.

  “You’re Reed, right? Dean’s friend? From the boat?”

  I nodded, my eyes roaming back to the group as a collective gasp and laughter roared, then Aaron fell on his ass trying to catch the ball.

  “You want a drink?”

  I faced her again and noticed her pointing to a row of coolers a few feet away. “Sure.”

  Her smile spread and I followed her over. She bent and opened the biggest cooler, glancing over her shoulder, nearly toppling over in the process. “Shit.” She righted herself. “Little too much Halloween candy.” She giggled.

  I didn’t say anything as she shuffled around in the ice and came up with two fresh Dr. Peppers and handed me one. “So, you here alone?”

  I met her eyes. It was an innocent question, but pain, clear and sharp, lanced across my chest like a knife wound. Shit. I glanced down at my drink so she wouldn’t see it in my face. “Yeah.”

  “Oh. Well . . .” I literally felt her attention drifting away from me and all my awkwardness and back toward the party. “See ya later?”

  “Sure.”

  I found a quieter edge to the bonfire and sipped my drink, watching the other kids. Before I knew it, my soda was gone. I grabbed another and plopped my ass in the sand.

  I was on my third and getting a brain freeze when Mike found me. “Hey! You made it.”

  “Yup.”

  Mackenzie joined us and settled herself between his legs, smiling at me, her face flushed, her big green eyes twinkling against the fire. “Hi, Reed.”

  “Hey.” I sipped my half-gone soda.

  “So, how’s it goin’?” Mike asked.

  I kept my eyes trained on the fire, letting the first dull calm of my day soothe me. I shrugged. “Okay.”

  We were quiet a few moments, then Mackenzie giggled. I glanced over as she whispered into Mike’s ear. A brief memory of Mel doing something similar yanked on me. I looked away.

  “Reed?” Mackenzie said, drawing my attention back. She was grinning mischievously.

  I looked at her, then Mike, who was wearing a guilty expression. I raised my eyebrows in question. “Yeah?”

  She flicked a quick glance across the bonfire to a girl with short, curly red hair and big eyes, wearing a little white bikini top. “My friend, Amy, thinks you’re cute.”

  I looked closer and Amy turned away, her face lighting in a furious blush.

  Crap.

  I hung my head and focused on popping
the tab off my can. My head was fuzzy—hell, so was my heart—but I couldn’t do that. Not again. It would be beyond stupid.

  My heart, my soul, may currently be strewn into a million, billion pieces, but Melissa Summers still owned every bruised and battered piece.

  Damn it all to Hell.

  “I . . .” I looked Mike and Mackenzie dead in the eye. “I’m flattered, but I can’t. Mel. The baby.” I couldn’t claim her as mine and that was . . . that was . . . I didn’t even know.

  Mackenzie’s eyes widened. “Oh, crap. I totally forgot. I’m so sorry!”

  “Yeah, well . . . No biggie.” No sense explaining anything. I was the idiot. I glanced at Amy again, who was doing anything and everything to avoid looking at me now.

  “Seriously.” Mackenzie touched my arm. “I’m so embarrassed. I forgot about your girlfriend. I only met her that one time, so . . .” She shrugged and glanced at Mike then back to me. “It’s just girls love a guy they think they can fix.”

  My gaze cut to hers. “What?”

  Her brows dipped in a cute frown. “Oh, come on. Surely you know you carry around that sorta dark, mysterious, ‘I’ve got a wounded heart’ vibe that makes girls want to cuddle up and heal you.”

  “I—” I did?

  Mike broke in and laughed. “Whatever. Chicks.” That earned him a smack in the arm, but it thankfully steered the conversation away from me and my “vibe.” I’d never heard of such crap.

  I stood, feeling Amy’s eyes on me, and weaved away from the crowd to sit on one of the coolers.

  I watched the other kids for probably an hour, feeling like I was a bystander in my own life; there, and yet somehow removed, as it all circled around me. As the fire died down to embers and everyone settled down to chat or make-out, no one even seemed to notice me or my absence. I was invisible. Guess my wounded vibe wasn’t enough to get me attention in my own life after all.

  Only Mel had ever truly known me. Just me.

  I got up and blindly started walking down the beach. Away from those that deemed me invisible. A ghost. At least to the night I was a shadow.

  I walked until I couldn’t see the fire anymore. Until the only sounds were the push and pull of the ocean’s waves and the occasional gull crying as it flew by. Those, combined with the numbness still flowing smoothly through my bloodstream, were finally calming me.

  Then, about a hundred feet ahead I saw it. As virginal white as a wedding dress, it beckoned to me in the cloaking blackness. Lettie’s cross sprouted up from the sand like an answered prayer, calling me home.

  Maybe Mackenzie was right. Maybe I did have a wounded heart. And there was only one place I knew to go to start fixing it. And so I let my liquidy legs begin to pound in an awkward sprint toward salvation.

  October 31st

  Fingerprints on the Soul

  “Reed?” Something hard nudged my ribcage. “Reed!”

  I cracked an eye open when someone began shaking my shoulder, and groaned at the painful crick in my neck. I twisted to my side and grit scraped across my arm as I tried to sit up, squinting against the murky gray light of a cloudy early morning.

  Wait. Morning?

  I shifted my gaze up and met my father’s eyes. Worried, slightly angry eyes, if my read was right. “Dad?” I croaked against my dry throat.

  How had I—? One glance answered that question as I noticed Lettie’s cross to my left, an eerie pale skeleton in the morning haze. Guess I’d found my way here last night in my emotionally nauseated state, upchucked it all at her grave, then fell asleep in the aftermath.

  Great.

  “What are you doing?” Dad asked, drawing my attention back. “You worried your mother sick when you didn’t come home last night, but I told her I knew where to come look for you.”

  I hung my head. “I’m sorry.”

  Silence. The waves called to me as never before as I just wanted to melt. To hide.

  “Well?” he prompted, shifting his stance so I’d know he was irritated. “That’s all you’ve got to say for yourself? Why shouldn’t we ground you for the rest of the school year, young man? Jonah didn’t know where you were, and neither you nor Melissa were answering your phones. We still have a right to know where you are, Reed.”

  My head snapped up. “You called Jonah? What did he say?”

  His brows thundered down. “Nothing. Just that he had no idea where you could be.”

  “That’s it?”

  “Yes. Why?”

  “No reason.” I ran a hand down my face alternately relieved that Jonah hadn’t told about Mel and my subsequent blow-up, but sorta wishing he’d done the honors for me at the same time.

  Dad crouched down to his haunches so we were eye level. “What’s going on, buddy?”

  I shrunk back a little, hoping to avoid what was coming. “Whadya mean?”

  “You know what I mean.” His eyes searched mine. No judgment today. Just worry. “What happened to make you spend the night out here? Why didn’t you come home?”

  A bird, black as an oil slick, pattered on the compact sand behind my father, its beady eyes steady. Watchful.

  Why black? I wondered idly. Where were the gulls this morning?

  And still, my father watched me, patiently waiting for my answer. How did I explain what I scarcely understood myself?

  “Melissa had the baby last night,” I finally said, my words sounding like a foreign tongue to my own ears.

  My father just blinked at me, registering my words for a moment, then he sat heavily on the sand next to me. He turned his head and I felt his gaze searing me. “Then why are you here, Son?”

  I couldn’t look at him, couldn’t face the accusation I heard snapping in his words. I simply shrugged.

  “Are they all right?” he demanded.

  Again, I shrugged. “I think so.”

  The anger was literally vibrating off of him now. It had been a long time since I’d been on the receiving end of my father’s temper. “God damn it, Reed! What’s wrong with you?” He waited until I looked at him—He knew I would. “Why don’t you know? Why the hell are you sitting here when your girlfriend and baby are in the hospital? Why did you leave them at all?” He heaved an angry breath, his face turning a deep shade of red. “Jezus, Son, I’m ashamed. What are you thinking?”

  I didn’t answer.

  What was there to say?

  He didn’t care.

  I squeezed my eyes shut and pinched the bridge of my nose, focused on the sounds around me. Unfortunately, all that was coming through loud and clear was the pounding of my pulse as it increased in time with my frustration. And it seemed to be ticking up in anger to match my dad’s the more he huffed and puffed next to me.

  “Reed!” He shoved my shoulder.

  “What!” I exploded, pinning him with my eyes.

  He hadn’t been expecting that and he reared back a bit. But he recovered quickly enough. “Well? What were you thinking?”

  I blinked quickly, silently cursing the tears. “What was I thinking? Well, let me tell you, okay? I’ll tell you . . .” My words began to trip over themselves as tears slid down my cheeks, one on top of the other, dripping onto my lips. I ignored them. Ignored the slice of pain gaping open my heart. “I was thinking about the fact that as Mel was wheeled away for her emergency c-section, she was begging me to not hate her even if the baby wasn’t mine . . .” I choked on a hot ball of emotion and a painful sob. “Even if . . . even if it was . . . even . . . if . . .”

  He put his arm around me, his anger suddenly evaporated. “Even if what, Son?”

  “Jonah . . .” I barely got his name out as I collapsed into my dad’s arms, sobbing like I was four-years-old again.

  He squeezed me and I latched on like he was my lifeline. I think he was.

  And I cried.

  And sobbed.

  And wept.

  Until I had nothing left in me to give.

  I had no idea how long I purged the broken pieces of my heart the
re on that beach, but he sat in silence and let me until I was strong enough to pull back and try and find my bearings again.

  I swiped at my eyes with my palm, suddenly embarrassed. “Sorry,” I mumbled.

  “What for?”

  I glanced at him and shrugged. I felt like such a . . . sissy. I hung my head. God, that was his word, still seared in my psyche from all those years ago. “Nothing, I guess.”

  His hand clasped my shoulder, warm and reassuring. “Reed. It’s okay to be emotional. Hurt. Sad. Whatever it is you’re feeling. And it’s okay to cry . . . Men cry.”

  I peeked at him in my peripheral vision, disbelieving. I’d never seen my dad cry. About anything. Not when grandpa died. Not when Izzie was in the hospital and really sick. Definitely not over anything I’d ever done, including the Great Disappointment.

  He grabbed a handful of sand and let it run through his fingers. “So, what do you think you’re gonna do now, Son?” He glanced at me, his eyes somehow mirroring my pain, which baffled me. “About Melissa and the baby, I mean?”

  I shifted my gaze out to the waves as the sun began to kiss the haze away. “I dunno. I just don’t know if I can be around her right now and wonder . . . if the baby’s not mine, I guess I need to let Jonah take care of it.” I nearly choked on the words.

  He dropped his handful of sand. “Why?”

  “Why what?”

  His eyes searched mine as if he was seeking some truth of his own. “Do you love her?”

  I swallowed and nodded, unable to say the words aloud.

  “Then why walk away?” He didn’t wait for me to respond. “You love her. She loves you. You said she begged you not to hate her, so maybe she made a mistake. You owe it to her to talk it out with her. At least try. That baby deserves no less.”

  “But what about Jonah?”

  His face clouded. “What about him?”

  I think my jaw dropped. “Wha—He . . . I . . .”

  “Listen, Son.” He shifted closer, his eyes pinning me. “Until yesterday, that baby was yours. Yours. Do not walk away until you know differently, or I promise that you will regret it for the rest of your life.”