The Twenty-One (Emerald Cove #2)

by Lauren K. McKellar

  Joel’s always been able to get inside there. And I hate and love that all at once.

  And that’s why I park the car at Emerald Cove beach and reach over to the passenger seat for my handbag, then head toward the long bushwalk that leads to the top of the cliff and then down into the Basin beyond. It’s a popular tourist attraction around here—people travel from the big smoke and even interstate to do the scenic walk, known for its whale-watching opportunities and idyllic private lagoon campsite.

  I power-walk through the scrub, thankful that I wore my Docs as usual. Bushes scrape past the bare skin of my arms, but I push through. Push. Push. Because that’s what I do now when I want something.

  Insects buzz around my face, and I swat them away. I pull out my phone to try and call Joel, to check he’s still at the campsite, but a dead screen stares back at me. I forgot to charge it after my big night out with Dani.

  Zy put me in a cab shortly after I got kicked out for my little dance floor vomit incident, but he and Dani had decided to stay on.

  Did she make it home okay?

  I shake the thought away as if it’s just another insect, and keep on walking. Of course she did; she’s an expert at surviving. Besides, I left her with Zy.

  Sweat dampens my skin, sticking my curls to my forehead, my white peasant shirt clinging to my sides. The trek uphill is steep, and my cheeks heat with every step. My limbs are weary from the physical effort it takes to climb this hill, and when the path opens up into a clearing, I lean up against a tree and wipe a hand against my forehead. Maybe I should have brought some water. Or worn less clothing.

  But not once do I think I shouldn’t have come.

  Because no matter how hard this is, how so damn painful, I can’t live without Joel. Not while he has another second in him. Not while my heart is so tied up in his.

  It’s the energy I need to keep going, and I push off the trunk and power up the hill. My arms swing by my sides, and when I pass the lookout at the top of the hill forty minutes later, I don’t even slow down to admire the view.

  As the path twists and turns and heads south, my pace picks up a little. I rush, and roll through a rough section, nearly turning my ankle when it skids on a rock. Branches lash against my skin leaving sharp stings in their wake. I run and I run, and it seems like hours before I reach the clearing at the bottom, but it’s only been minutes.

  I double over, my hands on my knees, my breath coming hard and fast from my mouth. A stitch cramps at my side, and even though I have no doubt I look like absolute shit, I don’t care. Because right now, I need him, more than I’ve ever needed anything before.

  As I stagger through the campground, happy families stop to look at me. One mother grabs her toddler and pulls him close to her side, as if he can catch my insanity from sight alone.

  Then, I spot them.

  Three multi-coloured tents are set up in a corner where the bush meets the still blue lagoon. I recognise Kohl’s crazy hair first, the tightly wound curls bobbing up and down as he makes his way over to an Esky for a drink.

  I steel myself, grit my teeth, and make my way over. It’s time.

  At the campsite, two guys recline in fold-up chairs, beers in hand. They laugh and talk loud, something about football and whose team is best. Fiona walks out from behind a tent in a super teeny-tiny bikini, and her jaw just about hits the dirty campsite ground when she eyes me. The boys spin around and take me in, their voices trailing off to silence.

  It’s nothing compared to Joel, though.

  He walks out of the man-height tent, a smile in his eyes. “What’s going on? What happened to ...” He trails off as soon as our eyes connect. The tension that frissons between us is palpable. He steps out of the tent and clears his throat. “Ellie.”

  Even though my cheeks are on fire, somehow this simple look from him manages to light the flames anew. And that’s when I know. No matter how many obstacles are between us, I’m going to make every moment count. Because I can’t walk away now.

  Not when he’s the best thing I have.

  I should explain why I’m here. Tell him how scared I was. How scared I am. How when things got tough, I ran away from the pain, but I came back and chose him.

  And that’s the thing. The very crux of the matter.

  It doesn’t matter about the rest.

  “I’ll always choose you.” The words leave my mouth and I run, slamming my body into his.

  Joel doesn’t hesitate. He wraps his arms around my waist, pulling my hips to his, our chests flush against each other. Our kiss is needy and desperate, two mouths searching for some sense of sanity in this crazy world, and a fire roars through me that’s so different from the heat I normally feel. This is thrill. This is passion. This is alive.

  “I love you,” he breathes between our kisses, and my teeth bite against his lip as he turns parts of me on I didn’t know could feel so damned erotic simply by being in close proximity to him. His hand grasps underneath my shirt and he walks us backward into the tent he just appeared from, shutting the zip behind us.

  Within minutes, my top is off, his shirt is on the floor, and he steps away, breathless. Breathless because of me.

  “God, you’re beautiful.”

  After my hangover this morning, after all I’ve done, I should feel anything but. But this is Joel Henley. And everything he says makes sense.

  Slowly, I reach behind me and unclasp my bra, exposing my chest. I bite my lip as the lacy material falls to the ground, and I’m completely exposed to his gaze.

  “Ellie ...” His breath shudders, and he gives a small shake of his head. There’s nothing but pure desire in his gaze, and it’s a love story I could get used to. It’s a story I want to complete.

  Outside, the sound of some rock band blares from a stereo. Fiona yells something about swimming, and I know they’re not going to come in. Because this moment is ours and ours alone. It belongs to us.

  This time when our lips meet it’s slower, more controlled. Joel’s hands fumble with my fly and I fumble with his, and when his hands win the battle with my shorts and they fall to the floor, he rushes his hand to me and I writhe against him, alive with need. I’m no longer safe Ellie, Ellie in control, because the things he’s doing to me turn me inside out and then some. Every cell in my body burns with desire, and I go from desperate with want to dangerously on edge. And then I combust all around him. All over him. Simply from his touch.

  “God,” I breathe, my head back, my knees week.

  Joel just smiles and takes my hand, leading me to the blow-up bed in the back of the tent. He shucks off his jeans, and I take his cock in my hand and work it, thrilling at the way it hardens at my touch, at the way his eyes roll back in his head, at the way just a flick of my tongue can elicit the sexiest moan from his mouth. It turns me on again, more, and then I’m hungry, insatiable, and I pull him down to meet me on the mattress, pushing him to his back.

  As he hits the navy blue pillow, Joel looks at me, a smile teasing his lips. “I like this side of you.”

  Heat rushes to my cheeks, and I freeze.

  “Hey.” He sits up and places a hand on either side of my shoulders. “It’s so fucking hot.”

  His words, so carnal and full of some kind of raw truth, set me off again. Our mouths meld and our teeth connect as we fight for our elation. Every ridge, every line fills me, and I’m heady with lust and life and love.

  This isn’t slow and controlled passion—it’s fast and it’s furious, and we ride toward release as if it’s life or death.

  And I guess, in some way, it is.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  We’re a sweaty, heady mess. I know I must look like shit, but nothing in the world could take me out of this embrace. Nothing in the world could make me want to lose the closeness I feel lying next to this man who to me, is everything. Who I never want to let go.

  “If you don’t come out in five minutes, we’re coming in. Kohl left his wallet in there, and I need pizza,” Fion
a screeches from outside the tent.

  Well, maybe something.

  “How can they get pizza delivered out here? We’re an hour walk from a road,” I say, shaking my head.

  “Water taxi.”

  “That must cost—”

  “More than I care to think about, but that’s Fiona for you.” Joel shrugs. “Her family has money.”

  I silently curse. Looks like the moment is over.

  “We should get dressed, huh?” Joel pushes a strand of hair back from my face. I look up at him, into those stormy eyes. The tent casts his face in a red hue, and for a moment I have this irrational thought. We could stay here forever. I don’t want to go back into the outside world. Once we leave this security bubble, everything is going to be real again.

  And damn, do I like the fantasy we’re building instead.

  “Do you think if we found the wallet and threw it out they’d leave us alone?” I bite my lip.

  “Ha.” Joel grins. “I love the idea, but I think we both know the line about the wallet is a thinly veiled excuse.”

  “Okay.” I press one more kiss to those soft, sinful lips and then grasp the sleeping bag that’s on the floor next to us to my chest, letting it shield my body. I stand up, holding it in place, but just as I turn to walk away, Joel gives it a tug, and the slippery material slides through my fingers.

  I should feel naked and exposed.

  But the look in Joel Henley’s eyes tells me he sees something I don’t see. That he sees me as a whole lot more than a girl who’s a little conscious of her curves.

  “Don’t ever hide your beautiful.”

  Melt.

  I give a coy smile and pick up my underwear, wriggling into it, then pull on my shirt and shorts. I pick up Joel’s jeans, and make as if I’m going to throw them to him. I weigh them in my hand, as if determining their worth. Then, “Nah,” I say, holding them out behind me.

  “Oh?” Joel laughs. “You want to play that game?” He scrambles to his feet, a predatory glaze in his eyes. He stalks toward me, and a chill runs over my body.

  I take two steps to the back corner of the tent, not breaking eye contact, wanting to know what he’ll do when he reaches me.

  “Are you sure you want to do this?” Darkness flashes across his eyes, and my breath catches in my throat. Both yes and no war within my mind, and I open my mouth to speak.

  Fiona beats me to it. “Starting the countdown! Thirty. Twenty-nine. Twenty-eight. Twenty-seven ...”

  I laugh, and it breaks the tension that cast its net over Joel and I. His stance loses some of its threat and he wraps his arms around me, one large hand pinning my wrists together while the other secures his denim.

  He leans his head down and rubs his nose against mine, Eskimo-kiss style. “I love you, Ellie Mayfield.”

  “I love you too, Joel Henley.”

  “Nineteen ... fuck it, four, three, two, one!”

  In lightning speed, Joel pulls his pants on and buttons the fly, spinning to face the tent flap as the zipper buzzes its way to the ground.

  “I didn’t interrupt anything, did I?” Fiona sticks her head inside, looking both ways.

  “Oh you did.” Joel walks over and gives her a mock punch on the shoulder. “But it’s nothing we won’t pay you back for when we’re loud later tonight.”

  “Tonight?” I frown.

  Joel turns back to look at me, and those eyes have me. Because when he looks at me with those steely blues, he could ask me to do anything and I’d be there with bells on.

  “You have to stay, Ellie.” His lips glisten in the low light. “We’re not finished yet.”

  ***

  Hours later and the five of us sit around a campfire eating pizza and drinking beer that isn’t cold enough to be good, but isn’t warm enough to be bad. Grease drips from my fingers all down my chin, and my hair is twisted in place with a pen I found in the bottom of my handbag. It’s the least glamorous thing I’ve done in a long time, and I absolutely love it.

  “So Ellie, tell us your story,” Fiona says, as she grabs a slice of the pepperoni.

  “Oh, no.” Kohl groans.

  “Not this again.” Marc rolls his eyes. “Now is probably a good time to mention that we all hate Vanessa. Like, hate her. Like, want to throw her off a cli—”

  “Dude, lay off my ex,” Joel says softly. A slight flame of jealousy licks at my soul, but I quash it down. He’s with me now. We were meant to be. I turn to Joel, the question I’d asked so long ago burning my lips again.

  “She left me because of ...” He runs his hand down his slight frame. “Y’know.”

  Cancer. I take his hand and squeeze it. I made the right choice.

  “I don’t hate her.” Fiona sighs, then gives me a look. “She just never wanted to do anything fun. Always was too afraid about getting her hair out of place.”

  My hand flies to my curls before I realise what I’m doing, and I tuck a stray strand behind my ear. Fiona’s shrewd gaze narrows. “Her story isn’t a happy one..”

  I swallow and look away. Tales about Joel’s ex are something I don’t need to hear. “So tell me more about the story thing. What is it?” I ask.

  “Fiona believes that everyone has a grand life story. Something that sums them up, with a beginning, a middle and an end,” Joel says, and takes a big bite of pizza. Cheese strings from his lips to his hand, and it’s all I can do not to lick it away and break the connection. Joel licks his lips, and then catches my eyes. Lust fires between us like a shell from a cannon.

  “They do. You have a hero, and a goal, an obstacle and a resolution.” Fiona doesn’t notice our eye fucking and continues on. “Take Kohl here for example. His story starts with a girl who broke his heart. The middle is when he overcomes his personal challenges and finally falls in love again, and the end will be when he marries the love of his life. So really, his is a story about Kohl, who wants to find true love, but his heart has been broken so badly that he’s afraid to put it all on the line.”

  “Get stuffed.” Kohl flicks a piece of pepperoni at her, and she ducks.

  “So everyone has a love story?” I ask, my head to the side.

  “No.” Fiona slows her chewing. “Some people’s stories are action. Some are too much action.” Her face darkens and closes off for a moment, and I have a feeling there’s a whole lot we don’t know about this girl. A whole lot of secrets being kept behind her shiny black hair.

  “Like my story,” Joel says, and from the grateful look Fiona shares with him, I wonder if it’s just as much to save her as it is to continue the conversation. “My story is all about life.”

  Fiona places her hand on his leg. “Joel ...”

  He shrugs. I glance around the circle. All three give him that look. Silence falls over us. And suddenly, I see why he kept that secret from me. Why he wanted to stop this from happening.

  Even though I feel the same as they do, even though I don’t want to face the fact that the man I love is dying, I have to do it. For Joel.

  I suck in a deep breath. “So yours would be a story about Joel, who wants to live life to the fullest, because he’s only got a certain amount of days to do it in.”

  As the words leave my mouth, three stunned faces glare at me.

  And one face that speaks of nothing but love.

  “Hell yeah.” Joel leans in and kisses me on the lips, and even though he tastes like pepperoni and I probably taste like onion, it’s all okay.

  In fact, it’s better than okay.

  It’s everything.

  When our lips part, it’s to a cacophony of catcalls and wolf whistles. My cheeks fire up again, and I press my hands to them, no doubt smearing grease all over my face.

  “So ... who wants to go for a midnight swim?” Joel asks, a dangerous glint in his eyes.

  “Oh hell yeah!” Fiona leaps to her feet. The boys clamber up around her, and she looks back at me, challenge clear in her gaze. “You coming too?”

  I look out at the still
, black water in front of me. It’s the kind of dark that seems to go on forever, that inks right through you. Small boats float a little way off shore, their spires stabbing ominously into the air. A chill breeze passes over the campsite, and I huddle closer to the fire.

  The moment I look up, I see Joel staring back at me.

  Making every moment count has never felt like this.

  I stretch to my feet. “Of course.” I meet Fiona’s gaze and give a wicked smile. “I was just wondering if clothing was optional or not.”

  “I love this chick!” Fiona loops an arm around my shoulders.

  “Clothes on, ladies. I cannot watch Joel fuck someone in the water.” Marc flips us the bird, rips off his shirt and dives in the lake. The resounding splash fills the campsite.

  “Let’s do this!” Fiona rips off her shirt and shorts so she’s clad only in matching BONDS underwear and then runs toward the water, Kohl not far behind.

  “You know you don’t have to if you don’t want to ...”

  Before Joel has even finished the sentence, my shirt is over my head, my shorts are on the sandy campsite floor, and my hand is extended for his.

  Because that’s the way I want to do things now.

  Together.

  ***

  Sometimes, life isn’t fair. Getting up at five a.m. to make it back in time to sort out my baskets for the day isn’t fair. Worrying about how I’m going to try and keep my sister from trouble isn’t fair. Falling in love with a boy who’s going to die isn’t fair.

  And yet somehow, we don’t get a choice in it. Joel doesn’t get to choose whether he lives or dies. And even though it hurts putting my heart on the line like this, even though it’s simultaneously the bravest and scariest thing I’ve ever done, I do it anyway.

  Some things are worth the risk.

  So even though air mists around my face and I feel as if I slept in a salt jar, I give Joel a light kiss on the cheek, careful not to wake him, and push up from the bed we’re sharing. As I take a step, a hand wraps around my ankle and I still, looking down at him.