by Shafer, Gina
His eyes widen when he notices the state she’s in, and he rushes over, dropping the pharmacy bag in the foyer. The pills rattle against their plastic cage.
“I’m sorry, Dad.”
“Not now, Whitley,” he whispers.
I shrivel inside. I know he’s not angry with me, but his disappointment feels worse.
When Dad takes over, walking her down the hall, she starts to cry. My stomach clenches. I go for the cleaner under the kitchen sink and scrub down the chair as best I can. I throw the cover into the washer and lean against the wall as her crying finally quiets.
I can’t face my dad right now. After he gets her in bed, he’ll want to discuss this with me and I can’t. I don’t want to.
And therein lies my selfishness. I can feel it, yet I do nothing to change it.
I debate calling Maggie, but I have no clue what I would say or how I would explain this.
I slip on my shoes and run out of there like a bat out of hell, not sure where I’m going until I get there.
I’m outside the bar in town. I think back to the look in Mama’s eyes when she sat there in a pool of pee. How long had she been that way? I didn’t think to check. I didn’t think about anything.
God, I need a drink.
I go inside. The place is packed. Magically, there’s one stool open at the bar, and I rush to it. The bartender is busy, so I wait a few minutes before placing my order. I remember how unlikely it is I’ll end up getting what I want, so I turn and watch as they set up the stage.
I forgot it was music night.
“And she finally shows her face!” A woman calls from somewhere in the room. I’m not sure it’s directed at me until she approaches. Erin, the woman I met here the day I went exploring.
I offer a smile and shrug. “Just couldn’t get enough, I suppose.” But joking feels odd, I drop the charade and get back to sulking.
Erin looks me up and down. “John, we need something strong down this way!”
I cringe. I’m not a total bitch, and I don’t want to hurt her feelings, but I just want to be alone. “Listen–”
“You have to come sit with us. The owner of this place always saves us a table right up front on music night. Right over there.” She points, grabs my arm, and pulls me from the stool.
I don’t give her any resistance, and I’m not sure why. It’s hard to tell her no.
We sit at a worn cedar table with Erin’s brother Smith and two other people I don’t recognize: a blonde-haired, brown-eyed beauty with perfect, pink-stained lips and a man who brings new meaning to the words tall, dark, and handsome.
“Guys, this is Whitley. She’s new in town,” Erin says. “You already met my douche of a brother.” She laughs, rolling her eyes. “This is Katie and Ethan.”
I smile. Katie opens her mouth to speak, but we’re interrupted by the screech of speaker feedback.
A voice I’ve come to recognize fills the room, amplified by a microphone. Oh my god, it’s Nick. This is where he works? The family business…. I sink lower in my seat, trying to camouflage myself in the crowded room.
“You guys never cease to amaze me with the turnout.” He smirks. “Who’s ready to have some fun, let loose, and hear some good-ass music?” He works the room until everyone is cheering. I lift my hands in a quiet clap, just enough that no one will question why I’m being weird.
Oh shit, I am being weird. Fuck. Okay. I square my shoulders and sit a little straighter, mentally giving myself a slap. There’s no reason for my attitude. This night is my escape; I may as well get into it.
Nick walks off the stage, and I close my eyes as the music starts, swaying to the beat of some indie rock band. After a while, Katie and Ethan get up and move closer to the stage, and I realize they’re a couple. Once they’re gone, I blow off a few pickup lines from Smith before someone else catches his eye and he’s off.
“You need the restroom?” Erin speaks into my ear over the steady thrum of drums through the speakers. I shake my head. She holds up a finger, telling me she’ll be right back. I turn back to the stage but she’s back quicker than I expected; I feel her slide in next to me.
It’s not Erin though. It’s Nick, and he’s really close. I notice a little scar that mars his otherwise perfect lips, like it was split open once. His mischievous eyes connect with mine, and I have to look away.
“How are your parents tonight?” he asks, and it’s like he’s poured ice water down my back, reminding me why I left the house.
“They’re fine.”
This is the first time I’ve seen him since my mother went into the hospital, and it’s both a relief and a disappointment that things haven’t changed between us. I still want to kiss him. A lot.
“Your mom is okay?”
“Yes, she’s back home. New medication.”
“That’s good. I’m glad to hear it,” he says. “You never called me.”
I look away. The truth is I wanted to, but what would I have said? Mama is dying; do you want to watch me fall apart? No, thank you. “I didn’t know what to say.”
He shakes his head. “You don’t have to say a word. If you need me, I’m there. I’ll talk. I’ll sing you a song or read you a fucking poem. I’ll stay quiet and just let you breathe. I just want you to know I’m here, okay?”
“Why?”
“Why what?” He asks.
“Why are you here for me?”
“Because I’ve been there. I may not have lost someone the way you are, but I know what it feels like to wake up one morning faced with the reality that your parent, or in my case, parents are gone.”
I almost cry in the middle of this bar while a tribute band plays a slow rendition of “Sweet Home Alabama” by Lynyrd Skynyrd.
Nick knows this, and he also can tell I’m not particularly keen on making an emotional scene in his bar.
He wraps an arm around my shoulders and tosses me a smile, changing the pace. “How are you tonight, Whitley? Still mad at the sun?” he whispers in my ear.
His breath tickles my skin. He’s trying to lighten my mood, and I graciously accept his offering. I close my eyes and find myself leaning into him. Shit. This isn’t going to end well.
“I got your drink.”
Erin’s voice jolts me back into reality. She gives us a strange look, but sets a bright orange concoction in front of me.
“John calls it liquid sunshine.” She giggles, plopping down on the other side of the bench.
It smells like banana boat sunscreen.
Nick laughs like he’s in on the joke. Erin doesn’t notice I’m staring at the drink like it’s just grown arms and punched me in the face. Her mood is unaffected by my sourness. The music changes from a loud thumping song to something quieter and more soothing.
“You should definitely fire him,” I say to Nick.
“Not a chance. You’d have to take it up with the locals, and John is their favorite.”
I wrinkle my nose and give the drink one more little push away. “So this really is your place?”
“Yep. Been in my family for the past two generations. Hardly made it through the recession, but the locals wouldn’t let this place collapse. It’s kind of what inspired me not to let this place fall apart.”
I nod. Someone bumps into the table and jostles me into my drink. I almost spill it, but Nick catches it before I can. I turn and shoot eye daggers at the offending person, even though their back is turned and they can’t see me.
“You’re kinda grumpy tonight,” he teases, nudging my arm. He’s right. I’m not being fair to these people, offering friendship and kindness. Ugh, what the hell is wrong with me?
“I am… I’m sorry. It’s been a weird night.”
“How’d you two meet?” Erin asks.
“I guess you could say we’re new neighbors,” I say.
“Oh no, did something happen to Mrs. Hadfield? I hadn’t heard,” she says, looking to Nick.
I feel sick. Nick’s hand finds the small of my
back, and I calm.
He clears his throat. “Whitley is Mr. and Mrs. Hadfield’s daughter. She’s moved in to help them out,” he says delicately.
I shoot him a thankful smile, glad I didn’t have to explain. I don’t think I could have found the words.
“I’m so sorry, Whitley. I didn’t know,” Erin says.
“I know my parents are well known in this town. I’m only sorry I didn’t realize how bad it had gotten while I was gone,” I admit sheepishly.
“Nick was certainly there to help. He had to rescue your mom a few months back, when she just walked out of the house and wandered the beach,” she says, looking at Nick like he’s a rock star. I want to shrivel up in shame.
“Did that really happen?” I ask, and he looks almost embarrassed before nodding.
“Shit, Whitley. Sorry again. I keep putting my foot in my mouth tonight. I’m just going to shut up and get out of here before I say anything else!” She gives me a tight squeeze before joining Katie and Ethan at the bar.
“I’m sorry,” Nick says after she’s gone.
I’m overwhelmed with the sudden onslaught of apologies. “It’s okay. I think I should be going though. I left at a weird time tonight and now I feel like even more of an ass than I did before I got here.”
“Did you drive?”
“No.”
“Let me walk you home then?” he offers.
“Aren’t you busy?”
“They can manage without me for a while.” He smiles and grabs my hand as we make our way toward the exit. All the while my head and heart war with each other.
I wonder which one will win tonight.
Walking through the salty beach air at night, with no sun to distract from the darkness and the stars in the sky, is usually one of the calmest moments in my life. Not this time.
Not when I have a man—this man—strolling next to me, bumping elbows and shoulders and making my heart race with every smirk.
“What made you come out tonight?” he asks.
I fight the rush of blood that reddens my cheeks. “I have a tendency to be selfish,” I answer in a moment of transparency.
He shoots me a questioning look. Being around Nick makes me want to be honest, or maybe he makes me feel safe enough to let my real self show and not be ashamed of it.
“Just a bad day, I guess. I wanted to get out.”
“I’m guessing you’re having a lot of those lately.”
“What gave you that idea?” I laugh sarcastically. Nick stops, and I do too. He stares at me for a moment, almost like he’s assessing me, and an uncomfortable sizzle in my stomach makes me want to shield myself with my arms. He’s got a rare gift to call you on your shit with a simple look. Maybe that’s why I feel so guilty being dishonest with him.
“Follow me,” he says, and turns on his heel, heading towards the ocean.
I look around, expecting, well, I’m not sure what I expect. Someone to step in and tell me no? Someone to shout “Don’t go, Whitley. This is a bad idea!” But that person doesn’t show up, and like most things with him, I’m compelled to follow where he leads.
“What are we doing?” I say at his back. I’ve never felt so out of shape, chasing an extremely fit man through the dunes and throwing sand off the back of my flip-flops. He hears me gasping like a dying horse and finally slows down. I stop dead in my tracks, because he does something I didn’t expect. He removes his T-shirt. I swallow, my heart beating faster.
“You coming?”
My mouth is watering, so if I say something, it would most likely be garbled. I swallow to ward off embarrassing myself further.
“Come on, Whitley. You’ve had a bad day. If anyone understands, it’s me, okay?” He holds his hand out, and for the life of me, I can’t think of a reason not to take it. I entwine my fingers through his, making him smile even brighter, something I didn’t know was possible.
I slow as we get closer to the water. Nick turns in front of me, almost colliding with me, but at the last second he grasps my shoulders.
“Trust me, okay?” he whispers, nearly touching his forehead to mine.
Why the fuck does this feel so natural? I close my eyes and sink further into his control, letting him take the lead. After everything that’s happened recently, it feels so good to let someone else take the reins. I mentally hand them over to him.
“Do you want to take your clothes off?” he asks. He fights back a grin.
Luckily we’re on a part of the beach that’s secluded and hidden from the main road by dunes. I step back, and in a moment of courage, lift my shirt over my head and toss it on the sand. We remove our shorts. Nick doesn’t stop to look at me. He doesn’t acknowledge my nearly nude body. He faces the sea instead, and without turning around, holds out his hand for me again.
This isn’t about our attraction to each other. I’m positive we both know it’s there. He’d have to be blind not to see it. And I see it in his eyes too, when he stares at my lips a little too long and gets closer than one would expect from a neighbor. But this isn’t about that. He isn’t trying to get me naked and fuck me on the beach. He thinks this dip will help me.
He leads me into the warm ocean water. Sand and shells bump against my legs, exfoliating my skin. The sand under my toes shrinks and swells as the waves move, and I feel a little off balance. As we move farther out, I take his arm for more support. The waves crash against our bellies and we fight them as they try to wash us ashore.
A big wave surges into me at shoulder height. Sand nuzzles every crevice of my body now. I laugh, delighted as the salt water scrubs away my insecurities.
We face each other in a moment of calm between the waves. The moon reflects off the water, glistening. Another wave slams up to my shoulders and jostles me.
I bounce off Nick and look up. In this moment, I want to kiss him more than I want to breathe.
His eyes are glued to my lips, and I lick the salt water from them. His fingertips brush down the back of my arm, and it makes my heart race. An ache I’ve never felt awakens deep within me. It’s a deadly concoction of hunger, sadness, and pure elation, a sudden surge of emotion that makes me want to drown in him and never come up for air.
“What happened today, Whitley?” he asks.
I look away as another wave washes against me. “I left in the middle of a really big mistake. I just up and walked out because I messed up and couldn’t face it. I ran away, like I always do.” In true Whitley fashion, I don’t wait to hear his response. I run away.
I take a deep breath and plunge myself into the water, letting the waves crash into me. Nick does the same as I open my eyes and; I surface and see his him crest the top of the water.
And then I regret everything. I regret life. One might say that’s a tad dramatic, but if you’ve ever gotten sand and salt water in your eyes, you’d probably understand. I flail, choking and spurting. Nick reaches for me, but I feel like scratching my eyes out. I fight my way to shore, feeling like the biggest idiot ever, and fall on the sand.
Nick holds me gently as I recover and after a while I feel him shaking against me.
“Are you laughing at me again?” I ask without looking at him. My eyes seem to be working again, but I’m not ready to chance using them quite yet. The shaking gets harder, and now I know he’s laughing. I elbow him in the side, and he lets go, splaying out into the sand next to me. I chance a look at him through my wet hair. He’s thrown an arm over his eyes, overtaken with hilarity.
Great. I went from sexy to hysterical.
I laugh then too. It bubbles up from the pit of my stomach until it’s impossible to hold in anymore. I let it free and giggle like a little kid. We ride that wave until Nick finally takes a breath.
“I’ll bring you goggles next time.” He leans in close enough to brush the hair off my forehead. We’re no more clothed than we were when we started. I don’t cover myself, and this time Nick does look. He takes his time, studying me from my legs to my face. I grow hot under
his gaze.
“It’s probably time to get you home,” he grunts, standing. He helps me up “Wait,” he says as I start to move away, looking for my forgotten clothes. “Look.” He points at the sea. “Your bad day is out there somewhere, floating away on the ocean current. Do you feel it?”
I think for a moment. I get what he means. Sometimes it takes something shocking to get you into a better place, and a laugh never hurts. I actually do feel a little better.
“I hope the ocean is big enough to handle all my bad days.” I smile.
“The ocean is a lot like you… more powerful than you know.”
Why does everyone say that? What am I missing here? I don’t feel power or strength. I feel like a weak girl who makes a lot of weak decisions.
It isn’t until later that night, after Nick drops me off at my door and I tiptoe to my bedroom, avoiding the light on in my father’s office, that I realize Nick’s solution to a bad day was to start fresh. So that’s what I’ll do.
There’s something people don’t tell you about buying a beach house. Yeah, it’s amazing living with an ocean breeze. The air cleans out your lungs better than anything I’ve experienced so far. The sounds of crashing waves is more soothing than a bubble bath. The view. I mean, don’t even get me started. Ocean for days, until the horizon disappears into the sky.
It’s all amazing. Wonderful. Rejuvenating.
Except for the birds.
I’ve complained before, but this is getting ridiculous. The owl decoy Nick installed has become a new perch for the seagulls to rest their feet on. It’s not scary at all. In fact, at this point they’re just mocking me.
The glaring call of the gulls is, without a doubt, one of the worst things to wake up to. I’m sure of it.
I open my eyes, throwing back my covers and nearly giving Coconut a heart attack in the process. Oops. I stroke on top of his head until he starts to purr again, and then I’m interrupted again by another shrill call of a seagull. I get up and open the curtains, pulling up the blinds in an aggravated and swift moment, and I’m face to face with Nick.