by K. M. Galvin
I’ve just settled him at my kitchen table with a peanut butter and jelly sandwich when there’s a knock at the door. Ruffling Henry’s hair, I go to let his family in. Still, knowing who’s on the other side doesn’t prepare me for the surreal moment of having East on my porch. He looks large and out of place in his black slacks and white dress shirt. Carter seems to have made more of an effort to acclimate with jeans and a cable knit sweater.
“You going to let us in or stare at us all day?” East asks knowingly.
Rolling my eyes, I leave the door open and walk back into the kitchen, plopping down in the chair next to Henry. I grab the other half of his sandwich and take a large bite.
“Hey!” Henry glares at me.
Raising a brow at him, I turn my attention to his dad. “There’s a queen bed in the back for you and this little nugget. Carter, you’re on the couch there, but feel free to put your stuff in with theirs.”
Easton disappears down the hallway and I watch, a little shell-shocked as Carter sits on the couch and closes his eyes in apparent contentment.
“Are you sure you wouldn’t be more comfortable at a hotel?” I ask Carter.
“No! No, please, Taylor! Let us stay here,” Henry pleads beside me, and I turn to him, surprised.
“How much does he know about me?” I direct my question to Carter as I stare at the earnest little boy next to me.
“Enough to know he loves you. You’re like a superhero,” Carter says tiredly behind me.
“You think I’m a superhero?” I whisper to Henry, who finishes his sandwich. He nods enthusiastically. “Why?” I ask, perplexed.
“You saved my dad.” He says this with such a “duh” tone I feel like an idiot.
“Where is your dad?” I ask rhetorically, standing up to go search him out. He’s been back there for a little while now.
I walk down the hallway, the hardwoods creaking underneath my weight, and poke my head into the guest room—my dad’s old room, I painfully remind myself—and find it empty. Brows furrowing, I see the bathroom door at the end of the hall wide open. Where’d he go?
“East?” I call out tentatively.
“In here,” he answers from my room.
Spinning on my heel, I stand in the doorway of my room, confused. “What are you doing in here?”
East is sitting on my bed, fiddling with the knife I brought back with me. He places it next to the sound machine and bottle of melatonin on my nightstand before looking up at me. “Having trouble sleeping?”
I shrug, leaning against the doorjamb.
“Me too,” he tells me before standing up. He takes up so much room in here; I had forgotten how large he is. I never noticed it until we were off the island and he was indoors. Out and the open like we were, you lose perspective. Now, he fills whatever space he’s in.
“In fact, “ he continues, holding my gaze, “I haven’t slept much at all since you ran away.”
Straightening up in indignation, I say, “I didn’t run away.”
“Really? What would you call it?” he challenges.
“Getting on with my life,” I retort haughtily.
He stops a breath away from me and with him this close I can feel the anger pouring off of him. “Liar.”
I cross my arms over my chest protectively. “Don’t call me that.”
“You’re a little liar, Taylor. You left me. You left me behind. What did you expect I’d do without you?” he whispers heatedly.
“You seem to have gotten along fine,” I whisper back, getting just as angry.
“That’s bullshit, Taylor! You became an integral part of my life. Then you just left! You think you were lost? I can’t fucking see what’s in front of my face without you!” He slams his hand into the wall beside me.
“Dad?” Henry asks worriedly, having run down the hallway to find us.
“I think you need to back up, brother,” Carter says in a quiet, but stern voice.
East blinks, as if startled, and then takes in my wide eyes and shocked expression. His eyes fill with pain as his shoulders sink in defeat. “I’m sorry, baby. I’m sorry,” he says brokenly before leaving the room, Henry running after him. I don’t move until I hear the front door slam, then look at Carter, stupefied.
“What the hell was that, Carter?”
“That is someone not adjusting well to being home. He’s gotten worse over the last month, which is why I decided it was time to let him know I found you.”
“Found me?” I shake my head, totally confused.
“Taylor, you were never lost to us.”
“Jesus,” I huff, raking a hand through my hair.
“You have a lot of people who care about you, Taylor, and want to make sure you were ok. I saw how my brother was handling things. I was worried about you. He’s not been sleeping, he hasn’t been back to work—”
“Yeah, because he’s too busy getting interviewed and landing on the cover of magazines,” I shoot back, beyond annoyed.
“What do you think would happen if you both went dark? He’s keeping the media off your back by stepping into the spotlight,” he says angrily. “Look, this is a conversation you should be having with him.”
Carter turns around, leaving me dazed in my room. I thought I knew everything, only to find out how wrong I was. East isn’t fine—far from it, if that little display is any indication. He misses me. He still cares.
Now, what am I going to do about it?
God, Dad, I wish you were still here. I could really use a hug right now.
Blowing out a breath, I leave my room to search for three upset VanHouten men.
CARTER AND HENRY RETURN WITHOUT Easton; neither speaks about what happened, choosing instead to order pizza and watch a movie. I continue to wait for him to come back, curled up in my dad’s rocking chair he made himself. The sun sinks below the mountains and the chill in the air deepens. Carter comes out and hands me the thick woven blanket I keep on my couch, insisting I take it if I plan to wait outside.
And I do.
I’m drifting, one foot on the porch rocking me to sleep, when I hear the crunch of branches in the distance. Sitting up, I tug the blanket around me tighter and squint into the darkness.
East reaches the steps and startles when he sees me waiting for him. Neither of us says anything as he comes up the stairs. His shirt is un-tucked and rumpled; shoes dirty, hair mussed…he looks like he got into a fight with nature and lost.
For the second time.
Sitting down in the chair next to me, East keeps his eyes forward as he speaks. “It was so simple out there. Easy.”
I turn my head towards him, wanting and waiting for him to continue.
“Not easy in the sense of what we did being easy, but that everything was obvious. Wake up, hunt for food, make fire, get water, eat, bathe, sleep…” He trails off, looking at me briefly before continuing, “It was basic. It was an ingrained knowledge to survival. And you. You were my purpose, my focus. You were the person I leaned on, depended on, and you’re the only one in the world who knows what it’s like. So finding out you disappeared after you came to see me…fuck, Taylor.”
“Easton…” I begin, not knowing what to say. I won’t apologize because I’d do it again. I did it for survival, just like everything else I did on the island.
“I’m not blaming you for running from people wanting to take a microscope to our life during those days, but I do blame you for running from me.”
I nod slowly, easing my foot to the ground so I can push off and rock in my chair, the movement distracting me from my need to go to him. “We’re different people here, East. There are expectations now. Our lives are complicated and I needed time to…” I blow out an aggrieved breath. “I don’t know. Heal? From the trauma of losing my dad, blowing up my life, and the hell of surviving afterwards.”
“You didn’t have to cut me out,” he protests stubbornly, and suddenly I can’t take it any longer.
“What dream world are you
living in, Easton? Did you think we’d come home; I’d move in with you and be Henry’s new mommy? Do you think your family would accept some poor girl with no family and no friends? I mean, look at this place; it’s not exactly the Biltmore.”
“I’m going to ignore the comment about Henry because I know you’re lashing out. I’ll tell you what I thought. I expected you to remember who I am to you, who you are to me! Did you think I’d be able to forget you, after you’ve become essential to me?” he growls, facing me with anger in every line of his body.
We glare at each other, holding gazes until I can’t look at him any longer.
“I don’t know anymore,” I whisper, conceding.
“You look horrible, Taylor.”
Snorting, I say, “Wow, thanks.”
“When is the last time you slept a full eight hours?” His voice is so concerned, I find it impossible to lie.
Glancing at him from the corner of my eye, I confess, “The night before we were rescued. I find it—difficult to sleep with out you. And without the sounds of the island.”
“Hence the white noise machine?” he asks, ignoring my other confession.
I shrug and pick at my cuticle.
“Baby,” he says with such an ache in his voice that my eyes fill. Sympathy is the quickest way to tumble my poorly constructed wall and I look at him, exhaustion weighing my body down.
“I’m so tired, East. I miss you so much, but this isn’t the island and we’re not the same people here.”
“Speak for yourself; I’m the same person as I was there. You mean the same to me. Everything’s the same—we just changed location.”
“God, sometimes you are so thick,” I moan in frustration.
“And sometimes you’re such a defeatist!” he shoots back, glaring angrily over at me.
Matching his stare, I ask, “I wonder why that is?”
He rolls his eyes. “You’re not the first person to lose someone or fuck up their life. I’m not saying you did, but you certainly think that way. We’re not even the first people to get lost at sea.”
“Is this supposed to help me or something? ‘Cause I gotta tell you, East, you suck at pep talks,” I say sarcastically.
He lets out an annoyed breath. “Taylor, I understand your position. I’m in a similar one, but I’m willing to try. Not run away here and hole up in a depression cabin, not sleeping for months.”
“This is not a depression cabin. It’s my home,” I yell then sink a little in my chair, not wanting to wake the others. In a low voice, I continue. “This is where I grew up, dick.”
He raises his hands in surrender. “Fine. You’re not depressed. You’re sleeping fine. Everything’s fine. So why won’t you talk to me?”
“What do you think we’re doing right now?” I point out mulishly.
“I swear, I feel like I’m talking to Henry. You’re being deliberately obtuse.”
“I’m not hiding away up here, East. God!” What a little liar I’m turning out to be.
“Prove it.” He raises a brow, challenging me.
“How?”
“Come home with me. I’m hosting a private event for all of us.”
“Us?”
“The yacht crew, the colleagues who were with me, and our families. Celebrating our lives, that we survived.”
“I feel like that me a little unnecessary.” But the idea of seeing—
“You don’t have anyone you’d like to see from your months working on the yacht? No friends?” He says this as if he already knows I do. Chef Anne.
My heart pinches as I think of her, the only other person besides East and Jamie to know everything about me.
“Can I bring Jamie?” I ask, looking at him.
East’s face shutters when I say Jamie’s name. “No.”
“Easton!” I whine playfully. “I need to have someone there on my side. For support.”
“You have me. You have Carter and Henry. Besides, no one is on any sides. No one’s trying to get you. Jesus, your brain is exhausting.”
“Missed me, did ya?” I grin cheekily before turning serious again. “You know there isn’t anything between Jamie and I anymore, right? He’s my best friend.”
“Who you were with for six years,” he practically growls.
“Jealous?” I joke, lifting a brow.
“Yes,” he spits out, and I’m a little shocked he admitted it.
“Don’t be jealous, East. He has nothing on—” I button my lips, realizing I was about to reveal my cards.
One side of his mouth lifts in a cocky smirk. “What were you going to say?”
The little punk; I should just confess everything I feel for him now. Just to see him squirm. Narrowing my eyes, I decide to give him the truth and see what he does. “He doesn’t compare to you. Even when I thought I loved him. It is nothing like what I feel for you. You encompass every part of my soul.”
East stops rocking in his chair and his cocky grin drops off his face, but I refuse to back down from the intensity I just injected into this playful moment.
“Come home with me, Taylor. Let me show you what it could be like,” he pleads softly.
“What it could be like to what?” I match his tone.
“To be with me.”
It hangs in the air, this fragile hope. I lean my head against the back of my chair, staring at the only other man I ever loved—truly loved—besides my father, and slowly nod. “Ok.”
East mimics my position and I nearly combust into flames under his stare. He smiles so widely, white teeth flashing in the night that I can’t help but smile back.
“Ok,” he repeats, almost to himself and reaches out for my hand.
I interlace my fingers with his. I watch our hands together; his are so large they engulf mine completely. I remember the strength in these fingers as he worked to keep us alive on the island, as well as how gentle they could be when they touched me.
His green eyes, eyes I see every time I close mine, shine like emeralds at me as they reflect off the porch light. He looks so otherworldly here, but so right sitting next to me.
“Ok,” I whisper again and squeeze his hand.
“I can’t believe you’re going home with him,” Jamie mutters for the thousandth time. Rolling my eyes, I fold another shirt and stuff it into my suitcase. What does one wear in the company of billionaires? Certainly nothing I own.
“Keep your voice down,” I hiss, glancing at my open door. Something Easton insisted on the second Jamie followed me in here. When Jamie came over the morning I’m supposed to leave, the tension in East rocketed. I’ve never seen someone clench for some long.
“Why? I don’t care if he hears. I plan on having a talk with him before you leave.”
Rolling my eyes heavenward, I say, “Please don’t.”
“Someone has to have your back in this.”
“I do. You don’t need to watch her back ever again,” East practically snarls from the doorway.
I immediately step between them as Jamie slowly gets off the bed. They are almost identical in height, but East has twenty or more pounds of muscle on his frame. He looks so imposing, wide shoulders filling the doorway. Damn, did he spend the last two months bulking up or something?
“Ok, guys, put your dicks away. I can watch my own back.” Turning to East, I rest my hands on his pecs and he instantly covers my hands with his own.
Stomach clenching at the weird mix of affection and arousal that washes over me, I force his attention to me. “Easton, Jamie and I are friends. We’ve known each other a long time. You need to let go of whatever is going on between you two because he’s in my life for the long haul.”
I turn to Jamie and find him smirking at East. “Hey! Do not antagonize him. You may be my friend but he’s…” I trail off, not sure what to call him.
“Your boyfriend,” East growls and steps forward so my back fits to his front.
“Yeah, I guess he’s my boyfriend.” I shoot a confused glare over my
shoulder. “Though, I’d prefer he’d have said that before he felt stupidly territorial.”
His hand rests on my shoulder in silent apology.
“Jamie, I’m going, so it would mean a lot to me if you got on board,” I tell him softly and watch as his face drops in concern.
“I just don’t want you getting hurt again,” he confesses and I step forward, hugging him to me tightly. He’s been there for me since the second I got off that helicopter, and even before that.
“I don’t need you to protect me from getting hurt, I just need you to be there for me if and when I do.”
He heaves a sigh of defeat and drops a kiss on my head. “Fine. Dammit.”
I giggle against his chest and release him from my tight hug. “Thanks.”
Jamie walks up to East, but neither says a word. They have their silent man stare-off, speaking more with looks then they could ever convey in words. Finally East nods and moves aside to let Jamie out. Before he leaves completely, Jamie turns back. “Call me if you need me.”
I nod and wave goodbye.
Turning to the Neanderthal leaning against the doorframe, I say, “You really need to let go of this territorial male bullshit. You can’t come here after months and piss all over everything, declaring it yours.”
“I’d like to point out the separation was your idea. If I had my way we’d be living together.”
“Excuse me for not living in a fantasy world where everyone shits rainbows and everything works out perfectly,” I snap at him, throwing more clothes from my closet onto my bed with a growl of frustration.
East comes over and grabs my clothes off the bed to make a seat for himself. “Stop worrying. Just be yourself, that’s all anyone wants.”
I bite my lip and rest my hands on my hips. “I need to look nice on the plane, at least.”
“Why?” he asks, confused.
I wave my hands in exasperation. “What if there are photographers! I don’t want my first shot with you to be me in a flannel and jeans while you’re in some fancy suit.”