Her skin was ashy and sick looking, her eyes glassy. There was a big, open sore at the corner of cracked lips. A clear sign that she had never kicked her burgeoning meth habit that had only just started to be a problem before I had moved away.
“Yeah! It’s me! I’m so happy to see you!” she squealed loudly. She leaned down and hugged me and I could feel every one of her ribs. Her hands shook as she pulled away, and I could tell that she was either on something or starting to come down.
“Wow. It’s been years! Where have you been?” she asked and I frowned.
“I left for school. Didn’t you know that?” I asked her. Reggie was picking at the sore on her lip and it was starting to bleed.
“Uh, I think Dania told me that. Have you seen her? She’s got a kid now!” Reggie leaned forward and I backed up a bit in my seat, not wanting her too close to me. She looked horrible. Like the walking dead. It was depressing.
“It’s Stu’s. But he dumped her after she got pregnant. He’s in jail now,” Reggie whispered, casting a quick look around as though afraid she’d be overheard.
“I ran into her last week. Her little girl is cute,” I said, wishing Reggie would go.
“Yeah, well, she doesn’t come out anymore. Not since having the kid. What’s her name? Do you know?” Reggie asked, bouncing on her feet, still picking at her bleeding sore. Her nails were bitten down to the quick and there were scabs and scars on her wrists. I hadn’t known Reggie was a cutter. But looking at the wounds on her arms, it was obvious that she was. Because those weren’t track marks.
“Uh, Lyla,” I answered.
Reggie grinned with a mouthful of stained teeth. “Yeah! Lyla! That’s right! You know, I bought her a blanket and a stuffed cow when she was a baby. And Dania never said thank you. Do you think the baby liked it? I mean it was a really cute cow. And the blanket was really soft. My dad gave me money so I could buy it.” Reggie was rambling now.
“I’m sure she loved it. Look, it was good seeing you, Reggie,” I said, interrupting her.
Reggie nodded her head, looking like a puppet on a string. “Yeah, okay. Well, I’ll see you around. Maybe you could come down to Woolly’s sometime! See the old crew. Well, there’s just Shane now that Stu’s in jail and Dania has her kid. But you could come and drink with us. It would be like old times. I’ve missed you, Ellie. You were always nice to me. You never called me a whore or anything. That’s pretty cool of you.”
“Maybe I will. I’ll see you,” I cut her off, dismissing her.
Reggie stood there for a minute more, bouncing nervously on her feet. “Okay. I’ll see you later,” she said finally before leaving.
Julie shook her head. “I hope you won’t go back to hanging out with the likes of Regina Fisher and Shane Nolan,” she admonished.
I watched Reggie as she walked through Darla’s, bumping into customers and stumbling on her feet. Looking at her was like looking at the person I could have been. The person I was fated to become before Flynn had come back into my life.
It was a scary picture.
“You don’t have to worry about that,” I replied distractedly, still watching Reggie.
Then I looked at the time on my phone and realized Flynn was probably already home. His class had finished just after lunchtime and he had planned to make it an early day.
“I should probably get going,” I told Julie, slinging my purse over my shoulder and getting to my feet.
Julie snagged the last donut and popped it in her mouth. She reached out to give me another hug and I returned it without hesitation.
“I’m so proud of you, Ellie. I look at you and remember that little girl who used to drag that ragged stuffed dog everywhere. You were so angry all the time. I really worried about you. But now look at what you’ve done with your life!” Julie’s eyes started to fill with tears and I chuckled uneasily, always uncomfortable with demonstrations of emotion.
“Yeah, look at me! Unemployed!” I joked, only half meaning it.
Julie swatted my arm. “Don’t be ridiculous. You’re a college graduate. That’s an amazing achievement. Four years ago did you ever see yourself here?” she asked.
I shook my head. “No, I didn’t.”
Julie grinned. “But I did. I always believed in you. I’m just glad you finally started believing in yourself.”
I flushed red. I had never been the sort to take compliments well.
“And you’re with Flynn. And I hope you can be happy together. Because you deserve to have a family of your own,” Julie continued.
Her words rang in my head.
A family of my own.
Flynn and I had never talked much about the future. Things like marriage and kids. I never thought of myself as the maternal sort. I had never professed a need for the traditional trappings of matrimony. I used to scoff at the idea. But now I realized that I did want all those things.
With Flynn.
Here we were, living together, and we had never really discussed what the future held for us.
Did I see myself married to Flynn?
My mind twisted and turned and thought about a world where I was Mrs. Hendrick. And it was a world I knew that I wanted to be a reality.
I wanted to marry Flynn.
I wanted to have his children. I wanted to have that bright and shiny life full of wedding anniversaries and birthday parties.
I wanted everything that I had never had.
“I’ll see you later, Julie,” I said, giving her arm a squeeze before leaving the café and hurrying home to the man who I saw in every vision of my future.
Chapter Eight
-Ellie-
“Don’t ever touch my stuff. If you do, I’ll know it and I’ll kick the shit out of you.”
I glared at the bitch standing in my doorway, acting as though she owned the place.
I gave her a once over and curled my lip in disgust. “Why in the fuck would I want any of your trashy crap?” I sneered, turning my back on her and pulled the rest of my clothes out of my duffle bag. I didn’t have much. Just a few pairs of jeans and some shirts. I had learned to travel light because I never stayed anywhere long enough to acquire stuff.
“You think you’re so tough. We’ll see how tough you are once Mr. Beretti gets home,” the girl teased maliciously.
I turned around and faced the girl again. She was really pretty with long, dark hair and blue eyes. She was thin without being a waif. She dressed in a way I had never been able to pull off. Stylish and attractive. Most of my wardrobe was bought with the idea of covering up my overly large boobs and womanly hips.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I demanded. The girl walked into my new bedroom and yanked on the collar of my shirt, pulling it down so that it exposed my boobs.
“Damn, you’re huge. Mr. Beretti’s gonna love those,” the girl smirked, though I saw something that looked like fear in her eyes. It terrified me.
“So the foster dad likes young girls I take it,” I deduced, ripping my shirt from her hands and straightening it. Just great. I had had my fair share of overly touchy foster dads in the last few years. As I got older, the bolder they became. But I had learned a few tricks to protect myself ever since living with Mr. and Mrs. Owens when I was nine.
The beautiful girl in front of me tucked her hair behind her ears and leveled me with a hard look that told me she too had been forced to protect herself on more than one occasion.
“You’re pretty. He likes the pretty ones,” she said softly, her badass act disappearing completely.
I sat down on my bed, a lump in my stomach. “Does he like you too?” I had to ask her.
She nodded. “He likes me a lot,” she whispered, looking over her shoulder as though scared that someone would hear her.
“What’s your name?” I asked her.
“Dania. What about you?”
“I’m Ellie,” I said.
“How old are you?” I asked.
Dania chewed on her lip. “How old d
o I look?”
Huh?
“Uh, I don’t know. Seventeen maybe,” I hedged.
Dania grinned, her mood changing on a dime. “Awesome! I just got a fake ID that says I’m twenty-one. Do you think I could pass for twenty-one?”
Yeah, she definitely could. This girl seemed way older than me.
I shrugged. “Sure,” I replied.
“I’m fourteen,” she stated, putting her hands on her hips and striking some sort of pose. Who the hell was this girl?
“Yeah, me too,” I said. Weren’t we just talking about my new foster dad, the pervy Mr. Beretti? Now we were talking about Dania’s fake ID? I couldn’t keep up.
“Cool. Well, I’ve got to start my chores before Mrs. Beretti comes up here looking for me.” Dania started to leave my room before turning back to me.
“You have my back, I’ll have yours, ‘kay?”
I frowned. I didn’t entirely trust this girl to have anyone’s back. She seemed to have a few screws loose. But I figured it was easier to agree than to start an argument.
“Sure,” I answered.
“Good,” Dania said, smiling.
**
Murphy came bounding toward me as I walked inside. His tongue lolled out of his mouth and I laughed at his efforts to get me to pet him.
“Yeah, okay. Attention now,” I cooed, dropping to my haunches and scratching him behind the ears. There was music playing and I stood up and walked into the living room looking for Flynn. I had seen his car out front so I knew that he was home.
I didn’t yell for him because I knew it bugged him when I did that. He didn’t like shouting and loud noises so instead I walked around looking for him. I recognized The Cure playing on the stereo and shook my head. If I didn’t love Flynn so much I’d burn each and every one of his Cure CDs. I had been cured of my own questionable Cure obsession now that I was subjected to it daily.
I checked the kitchen and found it empty. Though I was surprised to see several unopened Styrofoam to-go boxes on the counter, as well as a bottle of white wine on the table with two glasses. That was pretty unusual. Flynn wasn’t a drinker. Thinking about it, I had never seen him drink anything other than water or fruit juice.
What was he up to?
I walked down the hallway, Murphy padding behind me. I pushed open our bedroom door and found Flynn fiddling with flowers in a vase on my bedside table.
“Whatcha doin’?” I asked softly. Flynn didn’t look up. He was too busy sorting the bright yellow flowers.
“They won’t stay where I want them to,” he mumbled, rearranging the flowers over and over again.
I came up behind him and carefully put my arms around his waist. “Those are pretty. Are they Black-eyed Susans?” I asked. Flynn was clearly getting frustrated with the less than cooperative flowers. Every time he arranged them, he’d grunt and start over again. There were petals all over the table and floor from his rough handling.
“There won’t be any flowers left if you don’t leave them alone,” I teased.
“I want them to be perfect. They’re your favorite. I just want them to look nice,” Flynn remarked, sounding annoyed.
“They’re for me?” I asked, wondering what the special occasion was. Flynn wasn’t what you would call a romantic guy. I was beyond surprised.
“I wanted to get something nice for you. Leonard says I should do things that make you happy. That in order to have a healthy relationship, we have to make each other feel good. And you make me feel good all the time. I want to make you feel good too,” Flynn said, finally giving up on arranging the flowers and dropping his hands to his sides.
“It seems I’m discussed a lot between you and Leonard,” I said lightly. Flynn had brought up my coming with him to see his counselor many times since I had moved in. I refused to commit one way or another. Therapy had always been a sore subject with me. And I felt a little weird knowing I was the source of a conversation I wasn’t privy to.
“We talk about you a lot,” Flynn responded without compunction. As though discussing our relationship with other people was no big deal.
I swallowed down my flare of anger and instead focused on the pretty flowers beside the bed. No sense in starting an argument when he was trying to be sweet. We’d discuss the whole talking about Ellie in therapy another time.
“Where did you get them? I figured they’d all be dead this time of year,” I said, my voice a little strangled as I, less than deftly, changed the subject.
Flynn patted my arm that was still wrapped around his middle before pulling away. “I got them from the flower shop in town. Maureen grows them in the green house for me.”
I touched the delicate petal with my finger. “Oh yeah? Why is that?” I asked.
“I get some every week when it’s cold out and they don’t grow in the garden anymore,” Flynn answered, not really answering anything.
I cocked an eyebrow, a smile on my face. “Every week? Really? I didn’t think you were the flower kind of guy,” I commented.
Flynn shoved his hands in the pockets of his khakis and shrugged. “I liked to keep them around because they reminded me of you.” He said it like it didn’t matter.
But it mattered. Dear god, it mattered.
I walked towards him. “They remind you of me?”
Flynn nodded, looking at me almost shyly, as though he had confessed something he hadn’t meant to.
“I missed you when you were gone, Ellie. It made me sad. So I wanted something here that made me smile.”
My heart beat in triple time, wanting to leap out of my chest. I thought again about Reggie and how sad and pathetic she had seemed at Darla’s. I had been going down that same path for so long.
I had partied and used drugs without thinking anything of it. I had slept around without giving my heart to anyone. I had been lonely and miserable and had hated absolutely everyone.
But most of all I had hated myself.
And this man standing in front of me had changed all of that. By loving me unconditionally, he had resurrected an Ellie that I had thought dead and buried.
Flynn had taught me that living was more than breathing. And that earning and deserving love were battles worth fighting.
“I picked up dinner on my way home. I went to Ma’s Diner and made sure to get two slices of Key Lime Pie. It’s your favorite. And I got some more of that caramel crème sweetener for your coffee,” Flynn continued.
He wanted me to be happy. He wanted me to feel comfortable and at home. And even if he had yet to tell me the words, his love was in everything he did.
All of the frustrations and irritations that had been bothering me since returning to Wellston didn’t seem so important anymore.
I reached out and pulled Flynn toward me. He resisted at first but then came closer. His hands came out of his pockets and he buried them in my hair, pressing slightly into my skull.
“I like your hair. It’s so pretty,” he said softly. My throat felt tight and I couldn’t speak.
Behind closed eyelids I could see everything. Flynn. Me. Our future together. Jobs. Vacations. Holidays.
Children.
I was all there.
This was my life.
The one I had always wanted.
And it was finally here, ready for me to reach out, grab it, and never letting go.
I needed to remember this moment, this exact feeling, when the inevitable second-guessing surfaced from where it always resided deep inside me.
The smile on Flynn’s face. The butterflies in my stomach when he touched me. This knowing that we belonged together.
It would get me through the bad times. Because with me, I had to expect them.
Flynn leaned down and kissed my forehead and I sank into him. My body gravitated towards his.
I tilted my head up and he kissed me slowly and softly at first. The hesitant meeting of lips.
Careful.
Perfect.
“You taste like sugar,” Flynn m
urmured against my mouth and I smiled.
And then he wasn’t tentative and unsure anymore. He was hurried and desperate.
He yanked my shirt up over my head and dropped it on the floor, his fingers fumbling on the clasp of my bra. In all the time we had been sleeping together, he had never quite gotten the hang of getting it off without inflicting bodily harm.
I took over, sliding my bra off my arms. Flynn pulled back and stared down at my breasts, his normally placid expression fervent and adoring. I loved it when Flynn looked at me like that. Like I was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.
He palmed both of my breasts, letting out a low groan as my flesh filled his hands. Flynn was definitely a boobs guy.
Soon his hands were replaced with his mouth and the only sound in the room was the rustle of our clothes as we made quick work of getting naked.
And our frenzied pants and the sound of skin on skin.
Flynn practically carried me to the bed and lay me down. He covered my body with his, touching and kissing me everywhere.
For a time there was nothing else in the world but the two of us. Nothing but the way he made me feel. Nothing but the sound of my name on his lips.
“I love you, Flynn,” I gasped as he entered me, arching my back off the bed.
Flynn answered me in the only way that he knew how. He kissed the hollow of my throat, his mouth lingering there as we moved together. His hands professed their love in a way that his lips never could.
And when we were finished, Flynn held me, his fingers idly playing with my hair.
He hated the sweat and the feeling of sticky skin so I knew it was only a matter of time before our moment of post-coital bliss would end. So I enjoyed it while I could.
“We can do that anytime we want now,” Flynn said, his voice a little loud in the quiet.
I chuckled, my ear pressed against his chest. The constant, steady beat of his heart thudding beneath my cheek.
“Yeah, I guess so,” I agreed, leaning down to kiss his stomach. The muscles clenched in response to my touch.
“If you give me a few minutes, I think we could do it again now,” Flynn stated matter of factly.
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