Back to Shore (Meade Lake Series Book 1)

by Taylor Danae Colbert

  A creak in the deck steps makes me jump, and I turn to the side.

  “I’m sorry,” Ryder says, holding his hands up. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

  I let out the breath I was holding in, but I feel my heart rate immediately pick up.

  “I just wanted to check on you,” he says.

  “Where’s Annabelle?” I ask him.

  “At Alma’s. She really milked the whole skinned-knee thing and talked Alma into a sleepover.”

  I chuckle quietly and nod. I wrap my arms around myself and pull my feet up onto the chaise.

  “Is it okay if I…” he starts to ask, motioning to the chaise lounge next to me. I nod again.

  He sits on it sideways so that he’s facing me. I clear my throat and awkwardly look out over the water. I can’t bring myself to look at him, as much as I want to.

  “Mila,” he says just above a whisper. “Can we talk about what Teddy said?”

  Damn, he’s a straight shooter.

  I take in a deep breath and turn to him slowly.

  “Okay,” I say sheepishly.

  “I’m so sorry,” he says. “He didn’t mean anything by it; he just doesn’t think sometimes before he speaks.”

  I nod and wrap my arms around myself tighter.

  “It’s fine,” I say in the most unconvincing tone of voice possible. After a long, awkward silence, I scoot off the end of my lounge and walk toward the rail. I lean on it and look back over the water. There’s so much I want to say to him, but it feels like my thoughts are frozen. Like all I can concentrate on is the moonlight bouncing off the black water and the fact that the once love of my life is four feet behind me.

  “It’s not fine,” I hear him say softly. I can hear him slide off his chair, and in an instant, he’s next to me at the railing. “Mila.”

  I slowly lift my eyes to him.

  “It’s not fine,” he says, his green eyes pouring into mine. “Nothing that happened was fine. And nothing that hurts you or makes you remember your hurt...nothing that makes you think of what I did to you and your family is fine. Nothing I did was fine.”

  I’m speechless. I don’t know what to say. I don’t know how to feel about any of it. The only thing I’m sure about is how I feel about him, and it’s fucking terrifying. I swallow.

  “Why did you...why did you do it?” I ask the question I’ve been holding back all these years. His eyes widen.

  “I didn’t want to race them,” he says, turning away from me slightly and grabbing onto the railing as he looks out over the water. “I remembered how you asked me specifically not to do anything crazy. I even walked off the dock, but when I turned back, Chase was getting on the boat. I thought you’d never forgive me if he went alone. But I guess, it turns out, I still did something unforgivable.”

  I swallow. I’ve never heard the full story. Only the crash.

  “I had finally convinced him to let me take over, and I was going to come back in,” he goes on. “But Ricky picked up speed and headed toward the dam, and Chase couldn’t let up. He had this crazy intensity in his eyes; I’d never seen anything like it.”

  “Wait...what?” I ask, and I see his whole body stiffen. He stands straight as a board, staring out over the lake, afraid to look at me. “What did you say? Chase picked up speed?”

  His knuckles grow white as he clenches onto the railing.

  “Ryder,” I say, taking a step toward him. He drops his head down. “Who was driving the boat?”

  My voice is shaky and uncertain, but I’m staring at him, imploring him for an answer.

  He clears his throat and lifts his head slowly.

  “Ryder,” I say again, firm and crisp. He turns toward me.

  “Chase,” he whispers, and my vision gets blurry. I stumble backward a few feet and grab hold of the railing myself. He takes a step toward me, but I hold a hand out, keeping him at bay.

  This changes things.

  This changes everything.

  All this time, all these years, I blamed him for the crash.

  For Chase’s death.

  For it all.

  I hated him.

  My heart is pounding in my chest so rapidly that I feel a little faint. My palms are sweating, and there’s a giant lump in my throat that I can’t keep down.

  “Mila–” he starts, but I whip my head up to him once I’ve steadied myself.

  “How...how could you let us all think it was you?” I ask him, my voice soft and quiet, still in shock. “You went to court, Ryder. You were eighteen. You could have gone to jail.”

  “I know,” he says.

  “Ricky...didn’t he see you? Why didn’t he tell anyone?”

  “We sped past them before we got to the dam. They weren’t near us when we crashed,” he says just above a whisper. “The cops assumed it was me because it was my boat. And I just didn’t correct them.”

  My eyes dart back and forth across his face, but he can’t bring himself to look at me.

  “But...why? Why would you let us all think you did it? Why would you let me think that?”

  He swallows and then, finally, lifts his eyes to mine.

  “Because I couldn’t...I couldn’t let you think it was his fault. I thought it might...I don’t know. I thought it might hurt less, somehow, if it wasn’t him behind the wheel. That if you had to blame someone, it might be easier for you to blame me, instead of him, since he wouldn’t be here to take it.”

  I want to grab a hold of him and not let go, but at the same time, I want to scream at him.

  “Mila, I would do anything to bring him back. I am so sorry you lost him,” he whispers.

  I feel so much inside of me the tears are stinging the back of my eyes.

  All this time…

  That’s it––I know I’ve reached my boiling point.

  “God, Ryder!” I call out, and I can tell I’ve startled him. He swallows, his eyes wide as he stares back at me.

  I turn on my heel and storm back into the house. I reach under the front table and pull my bag up on top of it, digging through it for my notebook. He stares at me through the sliding glass door. I flip to the next letter and tear it out with force. I stomp back out onto the deck and slam it against his chest. He looks down at it then back at me.

  “What is this?” he asks.

  “Read it,” I say.

  He takes in a deep breath then slips the crinkled paper from my hand and turns it over.

  Ryder,

  It’s been ten years.

  Ten years since he left.

  But it’s also been ten years since you left.

  Every day since then, I’ve had at least one thought of you.

  And every day, when I think of you, I become terrified that I’ll never stop.

  Mila

  His hand starts to tremble, and he lifts his eyes to me slowly. I take a step closer to him.

  The tears are pricking, and I’m staring, wide-eyed, begging them not to fall.

  But they don’t listen.

  “What you don’t get is that I haven’t just had to live without my brother all these years. I’ve had to live without you, too.” And now the tears flow, and I know it’s useless to try and stop them.

  He slowly lowers the letter and drops it on the rail. He takes a step closer to me and slowly lifts his hands to my face. He cups it gently, stroking my cheeks with his thumbs, wiping the tears away. I close my eyes and let my body feel what it feels like with his skin on mine.

  “Mila,” he whispers, stepping closer. “I’m so...I’m so––”

  “Shh,” I tell him, opening my eyes slowly. “Don’t say it again.”

  He takes a step closer to me and pulls my lips to his. A bolt goes through my body, making my fingertips tingle.

  “Mila,” he whispers between kisses, “I’m here now, okay? I’m here now. And I’m so–”

  But I don’t let him speak again; I don’t let him say he’s sorry. All this time, I’ve blamed him for the worst loss of my life
. And all this time, the blame hasn’t been his to bear.

  I press my body against his and wrap my arms around his neck. I slip my tongue into his mouth, and he pulls away with a gasp. He looks down at me, his eyes wide.

  I nod to him, and he wraps his arms around my waist, pulling me as close to him as possible. My feet leave the ground as his arms squeeze around me; I can feel every muscle in them clenching.

  He sits me down on the rail, holding me close to him.

  He slows down a bit, pulling away to look at me. But there’s a fire starting inside of me, and I’m not ready for it to burn out.

  I widen my legs and pull him in between them then grab the collar of his shirt and pull him into me.

  I kiss him hard, savoring the taste of him. It’s been years, but he’s still the most delicious thing I’ve ever tasted.

  My tongue massages his, and as I pull away, I keep his bottom lip between my teeth gently. His eyes sparkle, and I can’t remember the last time I’ve wanted someone the way I want him in this moment.

  Actually, I can.

  When I was seventeen, and he was eighteen.

  When he had only felt certain places on my body. When he only teased how good it could be.

  Before anyone had ever seen all of me. Before I’d given myself to someone completely.

  And now it’s all coming back to me: how badly I wanted him in every possible way.

  I wrap my legs around his waist and pull his body into mine, slipping my fingers under the hem of his shirt.

  I slide it up off his body, and I ogle at the perfection that is his chest. I trace every curve, every peak, and every valley with my fingers, and then I pull him into me to leave a trail of kisses across it. He drops his head back slowly then scoots me off the railing and carries me toward the door.

  His hands grip my ass as he walks, and I squeeze my thighs around him tighter, grinding myself against him. We get to the island, and he sets me down again, stepping back to gently reach for my shirt. I slowly lift my hands up over my head and let him slide it off, the fabric leaving a trail of chills on my skin.

  I reach up a hand to the clasp of my bra, our eyes on each other’s. I swallow then unclasp it and let it slink down my arms.

  He takes me all in then wraps his arms around me again.

  “Oh, Mila,” he whispers, “you’re so beautiful.”

  “Ryder,” I whisper as he kisses my neck, “take me into the bedroom.”

  He pulls back for a moment, staring down at me.

  I see him swallow, and I can feel his heart beating against my hand.

  “Are you sure?” he asks.

  “Take me back there,” I tell him, “and don’t leave until morning.”

  Without waiting another second, he slides me off the counter and carries me up the big staircase in the middle of the room. He pushes open the door to the last room in the hallway, which was mine growing up. I take a moment to appreciate how well he remembers everything. But not too long of a moment, because he lays me on the bed and starts unbuttoning my jean shorts.

  I wriggle around to try and help him, and they slide down my legs. He tosses them to the ground then reaches up and unbuttons his own. They slide down to the ground, and I can’t help but stare at him again in all his glory. My God, he’s stunning.

  He crawls up the bed and leans down for another kiss—this time, slow and sweet.

  I let my hand slide down his body and underneath the thick band of his boxers. The muscles in his arms bulge as he holds his weight off of me, but he drops his head when I find him and wrap my fingers around him.

  I slide my hand up and down, watching as his eyes roll back with every stroke. I reach up and kiss his neck and grab hold of his thick hair. After a few more strokes, he pulls away, sliding down my body and taking my panties with him.

  This is the first time in my life that I’ve been completely naked in front of Ryder Casey, and it feels oddly surreal. I guess that’s because I thought, for over a decade, that the window to this opportunity had been closed. Man, am I glad it’s opening again.

  He pushes himself back up, trailing his fingers up the inside of my thighs and stopping when he gets to my center. As he looks down at me, he slowly pushes one finger inside of me, then another. I claw for the sheets, pushing my head back against the bed. I’m wet and ready for him, and judging by the low moan escaping his lips, I know he can tell.

  “Ryder,” I whisper.

  He pumps his fingers in and out, slowly at first, then picks up the pace as my hips buck toward him. I reach up and tug at his boxers, and he finally obliges, stepping back and pulling them down. I feast my eyes on him––all of him––and I feel like I’m about to boil over. The sight of him makes my legs spread wider, willing him to bring himself closer.

  He crawls up the bed slowly, his eyes scouring my body until they meet mine.

  “Mila,” he whispers again before he bends down to kiss my lips again. “Mila, I need you.”

  “I’m yours, Ryder,” I tell him, and I surprise myself. But the more the air around us clears, the more I realize I mean it. I am his. And I think that, all along, there was a part of me that never stopped being his.

  And it’s glorious, and exciting, and terrifying all at the same damn time.

  Because a year from now, he might not be here. I might not have him, and this time, it won’t be by choice.

  I shake my head to focus on him, soaking in his body, his broad chest sprinkled with specks of hair, his green eyes shining in the moonlit room, his biceps flexed and braced around me.

  He’s always been beautiful as long as I’ve known him, but there’s something about him right now that’s making it impossible to focus on anything else. He’s breathtaking, and raw, and vulnerable, but he’s also the strongest person I’ve ever seen.

  He bends down again, letting his fingers trace my lips once more.

  With that, he pushes himself into me, and my whole body reacts to the feeling of his length in me, his fingers running through my hair, his warm body on top of mine. We move slowly at first, and then I feel my body spiraling out of control, like it’s begging him for more.

  “Ryder, please,” I whisper as I dig my nails into his back, “please don’t stop.”

  He moans as he moves faster, and I feel such intense pleasure that I feel dizzy.

  “Mila,” he says breathlessly, and it makes my head spin faster. I wrap my arms and legs around him, making the silent wish that these moments could last till the end of time.

  22

  I wake to him leaving a trail of soft kisses across my shoulders, and goosebumps rise all over my skin. His arms are wrapped around me tight, and I’m squinting in the sunlight that’s creeping in through my bedroom window. I moan with delight as I push myself back into him, nestling into his grasp even more. If I had to define paradise, I’m pretty sure it’d be this moment, right here, with him.

  “Morning,” he whispers in my ear, his voice scruffy.

  “Morning,” I say, turning on my side so we’re nose to nose. “Did you sleep okay?”

  He smiles and pushes a stray piece of hair from my face.

  “The best I’ve slept in years.”

  Despite the fact that he saw me naked last night––more than once––and despite the fact that I’m still currently naked, I still blush.

  “Me, too,” I tell him, running a finger down his nose and tracing his lips.

  “I have to go to the shop today,” he says, burying his face in my hair.

  “Nooo,” I say, pushing my bottom lip out. He kisses it and strokes my hair.

  “I’m sorry,” he says. “I want to help Derrick out as much as I can before…”

  Suddenly, the air in the room gets cold and thick.

  “Before I can’t help as much,” he finishes. I pull him in for one more long kiss and then nod. I watch as he slides out of the bed, his perfect ass taut as he strolls across the room to grab his clothes. He leaves the bathroom door open as he d
resses, and I can’t keep my eyes off of him. Every curve of his muscles, every dip of his abs, is braced as he pulls his shirt on and covers them.

  All these years I’ve spent hating him. All this wasted time. We never got to finish our story because of a lie.

  And now, we might not get to again.

  I shake my head and clear my mind of the most impossible thoughts.

  It’s funny, I’ve gone so long hoping––planning––on never seeing him again. And now, I can’t imagine going another day without seeing him.

  He comes back out and crawls onto the bed, lying on top of me and putting an arm on either side of my head. He bends down to kiss my forehead, then my cheek, then my lips. I run my fingers through his dark locks, clutching onto him. I let my legs sneak around his, and he smiles and pulls away.

  “You’re trying to make me late, aren’t you?” he asks. I smile.

  “Maybe,” I shrug. “I don’t know, it just...feels like we have a lot to make up for, ya know?”

  He smiles and kisses the tip of my nose as he looks down at me.

  “I know,” he whispers, and a veil of sadness falls over his eyes. I swallow as I realize that the time we have left could very well be limited.

  He kisses me one more time then slides off the bed.

  “Do you want to come over for dinner tonight?” he asks. “I know Annabelle would love it if you did.”

  I smile and nod.

  “Of course,” I say. “I miss her.”

  He smiles.

  “You have no idea how amazing it is to hear you talk about her like that,” he says. I smile back. “I’ll see you tonight.”

  I get dressed and go for a walk down the street, waving to people who are packing up their cars to head back home for the school year.

  I remember that feeling—like something beautiful was coming to an end. The inevitable sunset on a perfect summer. Especially the summers I spent with him—those were always a little harder to say goodbye to than any summer before.

  I’m supposed to be off today, but after a few more hours of trying to keep myself busy, I decide to head to the store. I’m sure they could use the help—it’s the last weekend before schools start again, and things are nuts in Meade Lake right now. When I come through the back door, Derrick is at the front desk, leaning across it to point to a map that a young man is holding.