by S. Love
Mariah’s loving it, but she’s on my side, and she uses all her strength to try and pull him off me. She’s no match though, not even close, and Topher’s got me around the waist with a mouthful of water in no time. When he tries to climb on my back, I can hardly breathe for laughing. I’m giving him an actual piggyback when I notice Falcon standing by the side of the pool dressed in black jeans and a black crewneck sweatshirt that fits his body like it was specially made for his biceps and traps.
“Hey,” I say, laughter trickling through my oxygen-deprived voice. I must look ridiculous with this sixteen-year-old man-child on my back, but I can’t get him off.
Topher’s taking advantage of the donkey ride, and he hooks his ankles around my thighs, almost stripping me of my balance entirely. It’s basically the water keeping him and Mariah afloat, not me.
“Hey.” Falcon grazes his eyes over the spectacle in the pool, then buries his hands in his jean’s pockets. “Still feel like heading out?” he asks me.
I nod. I’m so ready to get out of this chlorine bath. I’ve swallowed more than what’s healthy, and my skin resembles dried fruit.
Topher clings on, digging his heels in harder. “Where’re you taking her? She’s staying with us, right, M?”
I can’t see her do it, but I’m sure Mariah’s nodding. She’s down for whatever Topher wants.
“Do I have time to shower?” I ask. My hair’s gross now, and I’m not going anywhere without washing it first, otherwise I’ll be smelling like this pool all night.
Topher detaches from my back, swimming away from me. “You’re cold, Lyla.”
I swipe my hand across the water, catching him in the face with a small wave. “Don’t make me feel bad. You don’t know what I’ve been through.”
Topher laughs, wiping the water out of his eyes and shaking his hair. “What? Stuck in the wild with Ozzie while he’s on his period?” He scoffs. “Oz knew damn well they weren’t up there. He set the trap and you walked right into it.”
“Shut it, Topher.” Falcon gives him a hard stare, sucking the fun out of the air and spraying it with ice.
Topher holds up his hands, anything but innocent. He’s stirring the pot like usual. “Don’t blame me for saying it how it is.”
I wade by him and pull myself out of the pool. The sun’s going down and the humidity’s drying out. After spending the last hour in the afternoon with Topher and Mariah, leaving them now sits like a boulder in my stomach. I feel like I should stay.
“Maybe they could come with us,” I suggest to Falcon. I can tell by the blank look on his face he doesn’t receive it well, but he doesn’t say no.
“We’re not charity,” Topher objects, faking like I’ve put a dent in his ego. “We’ve got better things to do than watch you two make lovey-dovey eyes at each other all night.”
Mariah giggles, hands clutched at either side of Topher’s head. Her wet skin glimmers under the low sun. She’s caught a bit of a tan on her face and shoulders, even though I smothered her in sunblock.
Falcon’s staring at me when I look up and wrap my hands around my hair to wring it out. “Get dressed,” he says. “I’ll wait out here for you.”
“Okay. What should I wear?” I ask, since he hasn’t told me where we’re going or what we’ll be doing.
His heated gaze passes over my body, and then lingers on my face. “You look beautiful in anything. Just try not to take too long.”
His words shouldn’t bring me out in shivers, but they do.
The moment’s ruined when Topher fake gags, two fingers in his mouth as he dry heaves. “Fuck’s sake,” he grumbles. “Give me a break.”
“Hey,” I say with a frown, glancing at Mariah on Topher’s back. “No cussing.”
“No making me sick,” Topher hits back with.
I leave it at that, wrapping up in a towel and heading inside. I don’t take longer than five minutes in the shower, and seeing as Falcon’s put me on a strict time limit, I throw my hair up into a messy ponytail and apply a small amount of makeup. Without much selection to choose from, I pull on a pair of washed-out distressed jeans with rips all across the thighs and knees, and a white short-sleeve tank top with my white Converse. Hopefully, Falcon isn’t taking me anywhere too pretentious, where there’s an actual dress code.
Ready to go, I find myself loitering outside Ray’s office. The door’s closed, and there’s been no sign of either Ozzie or Cindy, so I assume they’re both still passed out inside. As much as I’d like to check that they’re okay, I stop myself from going in and finding out. Falcon’s waiting for me downstairs, and Ozzie’s big enough and mean enough to look after himself. And I’m not exactly on friendly terms with him after the underwear incident. All the chicken burgers in the world couldn’t make up for what he did. I’m going out with Falcon, and I’m not giving Ozzie a second thought.
Falcon takes me to dinner at a seafood restaurant on the marina. His hand slips around mine as we walk into Del Rina’s like that’s the most natural thing in the world for him to do. Unlike before, tonight feels different. Being seen together because we want to be—we chose to be. Not to dupe anyone or pull the wool over people’s eyes. And it feels kinda nice. If only Garrett could have bothered his ass to put in the effort and take me somewhere. Any-damn-where, that showed he cared even a little bit about making me see that I was special to him.
Now I understand why he didn’t. I wasn’t special, and I was never going to be. I was temporary. A stand in until something, and someone, more to his tastes came along.
The hostess shows us to a table on the terrace that juts out over the water, and this may be the nicest place I’ve ever been to eat food. In St. Charlotte, we don’t do fancy. It’s home cooking or Sophie’s Chicken Cottage, if it’s someone’s birthday, or a weekend.
With Del Rina’s, it’s the small things that make a restaurant like this special. The crystal glasses and real silver cutlery. Beautifully cut roses and the freshest lobster. I’m so underdressed I could kick myself. Or Falcon. I’m out of my comfort zone, too, and a hot dog shack would have suited me perfectly. I like seafood. In fact, I love it. But paying hundreds of dollars for anything that goes in your mouth is insanely unnecessary.
“Okay, what’s wrong?” Falcon asks. He picks up his beer, the bottle slick with condensation. I’m surprised it didn’t come in a champagne flute.
Wow. I’m so out of my element I’m being hella judgy.
I twirl the plastic stirrer in my iced water and lemon. “Nothing’s wrong.”
“You don’t like it here?” One dark eyebrow lifts with the question.
“I like it, it’s just…” I look up at Falcon and lift my shoulders in a non-committal shrug. “It’s a lot. You could have served me a basket of cheese fries or a chili dog and I’d have been happy.”
I can’t tell whether he finds that funny or sad. “Didn’t get out much with G, then?”
Falcon’s not trying to push the knife in, but it carves its way under my skin regardless. You could say Garrett keeping me on the down-low and me failing to notice wasn’t one of my finest moments. Looking back on the time we did spend together, it’s becoming clearer without the aid of my rose-tinted glasses just how many red flags I’d chosen to ignore.
“Something like that,” I say. “He would mostly come to my house. I think I convinced myself that was normal. I was just taking whatever he gave me, even when it wasn’t enough.”
Falcon pulls out money from his wallet, dropping the bills onto his empty plate. “Still want that chili dog?”
“Are you sure? We just got here.” The money on Falcon’s plate is too much for two drinks, but I guess the waiter will be taking home a generous tip.
“Yeah, I’m sure.”
Falcon leaves his Range Rover parked at the marina, and we head to the boardwalk on foot. We share an order of chili cheese fries, and Falcon rounds it off with a large hotdog that I only have one bite of.
We stroll along the pier, the
crowds thinning out around us, walking in the opposite direction. The low-tide waves are tame, lapping at the posts beneath us in a calming swoosh. Sunrise and sunset are my favorite times to come to the beach, but nighttime’s pretty spectacular, too. Not many people, cool air. There’s something so soothing about being near the water.
We slow down toward the end of the pier, and Falcon leans his back against the white railing, slotting his hands into his pockets.
“I took it too far with you. My feelings got mixed up and I let my dick make the decisions. I wasn’t trying to take advantage of you, but I suppose that’s what I did.”
I stand next to Falcon, leaning my forearms on the railing and looking out over the ocean. Dark meets dark, and it’s impossible to tell where the Atlantic ends and the sky starts. “It wasn’t like I stopped you.”
He makes a gruff noise. “I wish you had. You just remind me so much of her, I lose my fucking head.”
I’d really like to meet this chick so I can ask her how she manages to hold so much sway over another person. It’s admirable.
“If you’re so into her, why are you punishing her?” I ask. “I wanted Garrett back, but what you’re doing is something else entirely. Yet you’re obsessed with this girl. It’s seems to me like the only person you’re hurting here is yourself.”
Peering down at me, the consideration in Falcon’s eyes only punctuates the fact I’m right. And he’s suffering just as much, if not more, than what she is. Why does love make people so messed up? I’d really like to know the answer to that so I can avoid its pitfalls next time around.
“Will she even want you after being with me?” Girls are different to guys. We don’t just get jealous. We get annoyed, and then we get even. Garrett saw me with Falcon and something about that triggered his brain into thinking it wanted me back. I saw Garrett with Masie and I had to talk myself out of throwing the towel in. Loyalty’s important to me, but lately I don’t see any of it. Not even in myself, and I don’t like who I’ve turned into. The person I’ve become since determining without Garrett, I’m not good enough. Like, when the hell did I start letting him define my existence? I’ve jumped through hoops while he’s had his eyes on another girl.
I didn’t stop until he’d hammered the last nail into the coffin, and I was trapped.
The corners of Falcon’s eyes narrow, his tongue wetting his lower lip. The cool, misty breeze ruffles the front of his brown hair. “Her wanting me wasn’t what this was about. I’ll never have her again, but I knew that going in. Whatever she does, whichever fucking dipshit she ends up with, she’s still mine.”
Pushing up to standing, I curl my hands around the railing. “Sweet sentiment, if not incredibly controlling, but I don’t think it quite works like that.”
Falcon doesn’t look like he believes that. “For me it does. I was pissed you were up at White Lakes with him.”
I turn my head sideways to look at him, making sure I haven’t misinterpreted what I just heard. “Why, though?”
“He doesn’t like it, me having you. Doesn’t want me to put a finger on you. He’s ready to do fuck all to get you, but he’ll do anything to stop anyone else from taking a shot. And I know Oz. He plays dirty. We can be mean bastards when we want to be.” From under low lids, nearly a foot taller than me, Falcon gives me a long, attentive look, his dark eyes questioning. “Anything happen while you were out there that I should know about?”
Plenty happened, but telling Falcon any of it, in the middle of this obscure conversation, would be causing trouble. One fight between him and Ozzie is enough, and I’m not convinced it’s really because of me. I bet Ozzie raises his fists at the faintest opportunity. He’s made me the object to release his frustrations on, and hell if I know why.
I look out across the ocean, breathing in some if its calm. “Nothing happened. We fought. He called me names. I can’t say I don’t agree with some of what he said, either. With Garrett, I’ve made myself look like an idiot. Willingly. I did that.”
“If he hadn’t fucked Masie that night? If you still had that choice to make?”
I don’t even think about it.
“I’d choose him.”
Falcon scoffs, his half smile presumptuous. “Girls love the assholes, huh? Let him go, Lyla. He’s not fucking worth it.”
I laugh dryly. “And I am? If I was, I wouldn’t be here with you feeling sorry for myself. I wouldn’t have been so stupid as to think he’d want me back.”
“I brought you out tonight to wipe the slate clean with us.” Slipping his hands from his pockets, Falcon’s stare intensifies as he turns his body to face me. “I’m going to try my best to stay away from you.”
My spine straightens as I stare back at him. The wind sails through my ponytail, salt spray peppering my skin. “I don’t want you to stay away from me.” The honesty pours out of me like drivel. I’ve become used to what isn’t meant to be permanent.
Falcon reaches out, threading his fingers through my ponytail. He cradles the back of my neck and reels me in. His fingers coast down my spine, one of my ass cheeks filling his big hand. “You think I want to leave you alone? No fucking chance. But that’s how it is. I’ve done enough damage. For both of us. If I do any more, we won’t come back from it. I promise you that.”
My hands frame what they can handle of his defined biceps, my body flush with his from the waist down. I need to lean back to see his face, but it’s just as well, really. Otherwise I’d do something dumb, like kiss him.
“This doesn’t mean I want to see you with Oz.”
We measure each other up, time hanging between us as though mine and Con’s coexistence in the near future depends on what I say next. I feel like I’m being handed an ultimatum wrapped in sheep’s skin.
“I wouldn’t be with him,” I say. When did that even become a possibility?
Falcon’s other hand’s on my cheek now, and it would feel so normal to put this to bed a different, more personal way. My hormones are scattered all over the place, but blaming them for how I’m feeling in this very moment would be a blatant copout. Somewhere along the way, I fell a little bit. I don’t know when, how, or why, but I did. I didn’t get over Garrett with Falcon, all I did was screw myself up, and now I can’t see what’s real for the smoke.
Falcon pushes one hand underneath my tank top, palm following the curve of my lower back. “Help me to stay away from you, Lyla.”
I’m no longer sure I possess a shred of the control I once had.
Brushing the tip of his nose over mine, our breaths fuse into one. Falcon tilts his head to the side like the inevitable can’t be stopped, and we’re powerless to be the ones to stop it. We could kiss now and not a soul but us would know it happened. But this bandage is no longer what’s best for my wounds, and if I drag this out any longer, I’ll never heal.
Chapter 27
“You aren’t coming in?” I ask Falcon. He’s pulled up outside the house, but he keeps the Range Rover’s engine running.
He frames his jaw in his hand, fingers grazing the light stubble. He’s got this faraway look in his eyes, like he’s thinking about something, or just decided on something. “I’ve got energy to burn off.”
That could be taken so many different ways. I’m curious to know how he plans on burning that energy, but I think I already get the idea. Any expansion could potentially result in me offering myself as his outlet, and that can’t happen.
He unlocks the house door for me with his key. Back behind the wheel, he reverses out through the gates, the bright beams of his headlights blinding me.
I pad quietly upstairs and look in on Mariah before going to my own room. She’s fast asleep in bed. A nightlight plugged into the wall lends a warm glow that spreads out from the corner and seeps over the walls.
I resist checking the study, but the silent house reassures me everyone’s sleeping, or they aren’t home. Either way, I’m going to bed. My head feels as heavy as my body, and I’m overrun with the stress of
this last week and the week that’s to come.
It’s my birthday on Thursday—the big one-seven—and I’m going home for it the second I finish work. It would be the perfect time to tell my mom what’s going on with me, and the tangled web I’ve gotten myself caught up in, but she’ll only tell me to quit my job, and I still need the money. Deepening my pockets is something that will never change. I can either make it easy or hard on myself, and right now, I’m one thousand percent choosing the hard way.
After brushing my teeth and washing my face, I change into an oversized T-shirt and climb into bed. The ocean lapping the shore is a soothing lullaby, but tonight it doesn’t bring sleep any sooner. My mind’s whirring a mile a minute, and I can’t process one thought from another. Too many of them involve Ozzie, and he’s not who I should be thinking about. Not when I was just with his brother, and my heart’s continually trying to crawl out of my chest, looking for Garrett. My head’s so fucked, a few sessions of psychotherapy wouldn’t go amiss.
If it’s possible to feel lonely in a house full of people, then that’s how I’m feeling now. My mom’s only an hour away, my sister six, but I’m missing them. Missing the stability, the reliability. Me and this family are opposite ends of the spectra. I’m too brittle to navigate their way of life. I was made for simple and living here is anything but.
I lift my head off the pillow, twisting my neck to look at the door when it opens. People just love walking in on you around here. Note to self: start using the lock more.
The darkness hugs Ozzie’s shirtless frame, and I watch him in complete silence as he closes the door and then stands unmoving in front it. The same jeans from earlier sit low on his hips, the top button loose, and I know—I just know—he’s been with his mom the entire night.
An indescribable sensation overwhelms and surges through me as our gazes stay bolted on each other. He could be waiting for me to tell him to leave, but his lips don’t part for words. Without light, I can’t read his expression. Can’t tell what he’s thinking, what he wants—why he’s here.