by Emery Rose
Remy turned her head, her eyes meeting Shane’s. “It didn’t happen yesterday, Shane. It’s been a month.”
“I was trying to save you from having to deal with it. I didn’t want Mom to fuck up something that was supposed to be a happy time for you, Rem.” Why couldn’t she wrap her head around that?
“You’re missing the point. Don’t you get it? God, Dylan, why are you such a bonehead?” Her face crumpled, and she burst into tears.
Shane pulled her into his arms, his hand holding the back of her head, the other one stroking her hair. Sobs racked her body, and she was crying so hard I was starting to worry. I could see by the look of concern on Shane’s face that he was, too. He kept stroking her hair and telling her everything was okay, but he looked as helpless as I felt. It felt like I sat there a lifetime listening to her cry until she finally pulled herself together and the tears subsided.
For want of something better to do, I grabbed a roll of toilet paper from the downstairs bathroom and handed it to her.
She stared at it for a second then started laughing as she took it from me and I returned to my seat. “Oh my God. That is so you. We have Kleenex on the kitchen counter.”
“Does the same job.”
She unwound a few strips of toilet paper, wiped her eyes, and blew her nose while Shane and I watched her closely trying to figure out where her head was at. I’d only seen Remy cry that hard twice in my life. Both times for Shane. She hadn’t shed a tear after that asshole almost raped her. She hadn’t shed a single tear when we were abandoned at the truck stop. Or any of the other times Mom had left us behind. So, I hadn’t expected her to break down like that because of our mother.
“It kills me that you felt you had to do that on your own, Dylan.” Her eyes filled with tears again and she wiped them away, and only then did it dawn on me. She wasn’t crying for Mom. She was crying for me. “I’m so angry at her for making you feel like it was your job to protect her. I’m so angry that you never got a childhood. I look at Kai and I just think… I’d never want my baby to go through everything you did.”
“It wasn’t just me, Rem. You went through it too. You had it worse than I did.” Like this was a stupid contest and we were competing over who had it worse.
“I didn’t. She… you were the one she always dragged into her shit. You were the one she always turned to. I remember how you used to bring her home from the bar when she was drunk. And I used to stand outside her door and listen. You were so good with her. You used to always tell her to sleep it off, that things would look better tomorrow. And then when she left us, you thought it was your responsibility to pay our rent and our bills. It was never your burden to carry alone but you always did. You were so stubborn. I had you to look after me, but you didn’t have anyone, Dylan. You were so alone.”
“Don’t dredge up the past. It’s ancient history.” I was a hypocrite for saying that. I’d spent the past few weeks doing nothing but dredging up the past. And what I’d concluded was that it was better off staying buried.
“Just… please. I need you to know how much I love you for everything you did. I need you to know that you’re not alone, Dylan. I’ll always be here for you, okay? Always.”
I couldn’t look at her. I couldn’t even swallow past the lump in my throat. And it took me a good few minutes of silence before I was able to speak. Clearing my throat, I asked, “Are you okay?”
“About Mom?”
I nodded.
“I have Shane. I have Kai. I have you. So I know I’m going to be fine. But I could have been there for you, Dylan.”
“It’s done. It’s over. I’m good. Let’s move on.”
“You’re not good, Dylan. I just wish… I wish you could find what I have. I want you to be happy. Find someone special. Get married. Have a family.”
“I’m not like you, Rem. I never wanted those things.” That wasn’t entirely true. I liked the idea of all that but in reality, I didn’t see it happening for me.
She gave me a sad smile that I couldn’t bear to look at. It was time for me to go. I’d delivered my news, having edited out the parts she didn’t need to hear, and Shane would look after her from here. Just like he had been doing for years.
The following night Shane paid me a visit. “This feels familiar. Like we’ve been here before,” he said, sliding down against the glass fence to sit next to me on my manicured lawn. The last time Shane and I sat here together was nearly two years ago, the night Sienna and I called it quits for good.
This was my favorite spot to sit, under the stars with a view of the hills and the canyon and a sliver of sea in the distance. When I bought this house, it was this view that made me appreciate how far I’d come. Like I was sitting on top of the world. Still looking down the bottom of the bottle though. Proof that I was still the same fucked-up guy I’d always been.
The only thing that had changed was that my booze was more expensive, and my view was better.
I took another swig of whiskey, feeling the burn as it slid down my throat. The alcohol made all the edges blur, the lights from the houses in the hills a hazy glow.
“Did Remy send you?” I asked.
“She’s worried about you, but I came on my own.”
I offered him the bottle, but he declined so I took another fortifying drink.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
Since when had I ever wanted to talk about anything? “Nothing to talk about.”
He side-eyed me. “Then I’ll just sit here for a while. Stargazing.” That lasted for all of twenty seconds. “You should call Scarlett.”
“Whatever happened to stargazing?”
“Change of plan.”
“Why would I call Scarlett?” I couldn’t help asking.
“Because she cares about you.” I had no idea how he knew that or why he would even think it. “And I think you care about her too.”
“Playing matchmaker now?”
He snorted. “Not sure it’d be a smart move to push you two together. I was thinking you could use a friend.”
A friend. That dirty f word again.
“Why did you call her to drive you to the hospital the night Kai was born? Why did you talk us into selling her designs in the shop? Why did you talk me into hiring her as a surfboard designer when I wasn’t even looking for one? What was all that about?”
“So many fucking questions. You’re making my head spin.”
“That’s the whiskey. When’s the last time you’ve been sober?”
When I was thirteen. “I didn’t invite you over here.”
“When are you going to get it through your thick skull that I give a shit about you? There’s more to it, isn’t there? What really happened?”
Instead of answering his questions, I drank more whiskey. Then I lit a blunt and smoked it, hoping he’d take the hint and leave. You couldn’t get blood from a stone. But that didn’t stop him from trying.
“Who found her? Who found your mother?”
“I’m two seconds from kicking you out of my fucking house.”
He nodded as if he had it all figured out. “That’s what I thought.”
After that, he sat next to me in silence for a while, stargazing or navel-gazing or whatever the hell Zen people did, before he finally stood to go. “Come surfing with me tomorrow.”
“Don’t you have a wife and kid to take care of?”
“That’s why I surf. You’re no help to anyone if you don’t take care of yourself. I learned that the hard way. Whatever you’re going through, it helps to let people in. The right people. The ones who care about you. I know you always act like you don’t need anyone, but you fucking do.”
With that little gem, he left me to my peace and quiet. I didn’t tell him this, or anything else of any value, but he was starting to sound more and more like his dad. And as much as I would love to be more like Shane, more like Jimmy, I wasn’t built that way.
You and me, baby, we’re two of a kind.
/> That’s what my mother told me. Had always told me. And as much as I didn’t want to believe it, I was starting to think it was true.
Time to end this pity party for one. Time to move on and let go of the past. I’d worked too hard to get this far. It would be too easy to lose myself at the bottom of a bottle and I couldn’t allow that to happen.
I wrapped my hand around the neck of the whiskey bottle and took a swing at the fence. And then another. And another. The bottle smashed, the glass shattering and I left the jagged pieces on the lawn, the whiskey soaking into the lawn as I walked away.
Stripping off my clothes, I dove into my heated pool. The blood from the cuts on my hand clouded the water and I swam, and I swam, and I swam.
I tried to forget the first woman I had ever loved. My mother. The tragically lost, careless, manipulative bitch who could sometimes be loving and kind and funny and so full of life it was contagious. But my good memories of her were so distant, so long ago, that I sometimes wondered if they’d all been nothing but a dream.
What kind of idiot would mourn the loss of someone who had always let him down, who had fed him lies and empty promises, who had rarely shown up to be a mother? The same idiot who had gotten into countless fights, defending his mother’s honor. Despite her failings and her disregard for anyone other than herself, I was that idiot.
By the time I finished swimming my last lap, I was ready to let go and move on.
All I wanted now was that little fucking ray of sunshine.
I wanted her to put the broken pieces of me back together. To revive something inside of me that had died a long time ago.
In other words, I wanted the impossible.
25
Scarlett
Sienna’s engagement had given my mother a new lease on life, and I’d been coerced into attending the engagement party. Everything had to be perfect. Including me. Things like this mattered to her, and I didn’t want to ruin anything for her or Sienna. So I had promised to be on my best behavior. Which meant that I’d barely said three words.
Sienna and Chase stayed close to each other’s side throughout the night. He had an entitled look about him that always made me feel like he thought he was better than everyone. Like my father. They even had the same Ivy League haircut. Short and tapered with a side part. He wore a dark suit and a pressed white shirt. Sienna wore a liquid gold dress and a smile.
“You look beautiful, Scar,” Sienna had said when I arrived, pulling me into a hug. I had waited for the guilt to come but somewhere along the way, guilt had taken a backseat to heartache.
Even though I knew I shouldn’t, I missed Dylan and I still thought about him all the time. Judging by the radio silence, he didn’t give me a passing thought. It shouldn’t hurt but it did.
“Thank you. You look beautiful too.” She did. Sienna was undeniably beautiful. We were both blonde and blue-eyed but that was where the similarities ended. She was tall and willowy, her features classically beautiful, with an air of elegance that I’d never have.
“Mom was worried you’d turn up looking like a hobo.” Sienna laughed.
“That’s why she sent me feathers and red-soled shoes.”
“They’re so you.”
“Sure they are.”
I’d never in a million years pick out this ensemble—a short black strapless concoction of tulle and feathers with black and white jacquard Louboutin’s. This little outfit cost as much as a used car. I was mentally calculating how much I could get for it on eBay when my mother grabbed my arm.
“Where’s your father gone?” she asked, her voice hushed as if she didn’t want her guests to catch on that she’d lost her husband.
“I don’t know.” I was busy avoiding him. So far, so good.
“Go find him,” she said under her breath, smoothing a hand over her blonde hair, freshly highlighted for the occasion. “He’s been gone for half an hour.”
“I’m sure he’ll turn up soon. Like a bad penny.”
“Scarlett.” She squeezed my hand, her eyes pleading. “Please.”
“Fine.”
“Thank you. And you went a little heavy on the eyeliner, honey. Stop in the downstairs bathroom and fix that.” She patted my arm before she swanned away to entertain her guests. It never ceased to amaze me how my mother could be hypercritical one minute and completely dismissive the next. I couldn’t remember the last time she asked me how I was doing, and actually listened to my answer.
When would I get it through my head that she really didn’t care?
I weaved through the people milling about, in search of my father. When I didn’t find him in the living room or dining room, I made a beeline for the library. That’s where he conducted business during these social gatherings. For my father, every party was a networking opportunity. No doubt he was plotting world domination.
The library door was slightly ajar, and I stopped outside it as my father’s voice reached my ears. “See to it that you shut this down. We haven’t come this far only to lose to that little shit.”
“It’s not only St. Clair you’re up against,” another male voice said. The mayor? “A lot of people are opposed to your plans.”
That little shit. One of my father’s many pet names for Dylan. I’d heard about my father’s plans. It was the talk of the town, so it wasn’t a secret. I felt bad for Dylan though. I knew how important The Surf Lodge was to him.
“Who put you in office, Hank?”
“The voters.”
“Bullshit. I put you in office. And don’t you forget it. You work for me. The council… the planning commission… they work for me. Find me the weakest links and I’ll take care of the rest.”
I bet he would.
I backed away from the door and hid under the oak staircase, my back pressed against the damask-papered wall as the mayor and another man walked out of my father’s library and headed in the opposite direction from where I stood.
Coast clear, I plastered on a smile and walked into the library. It was all dark wood, leather, and Oriental rugs with a Medieval-looking tapestry above the polished mahogany bar.
My father was pouring himself a scotch from a crystal decanter and looked over at the doorway, brows raised in question.
“Hey Dad.” Smile still firmly in place. “Mom’s looking for you.”
Scotch in hand, he came around from the back of the bar and stopped in front of me. As much as I tried to put on a brave face, my father still intimidated me. “Have you been eavesdropping again, Scarlett?”
If he’d wanted to conduct business behind closed doors, he should have made certain the door was closed.
“I just came to find you. And I didn’t want to interrupt.” I should have left it at that. Played dumb like I hadn’t heard a single word of his conversation. “Why are you going after him? Can’t you just let him have this? It’s really important to him.”
My father’s eyes narrowed. “Why are you defending that punk?”
Once again, I’d gone too far but as usual, I couldn’t stop myself. “I work for his sister, so I know why he wants The Surf Lodge. He just wants to do something good for the town.”
“Something good for the town,” he said with a harsh laugh. “I know what this town needs. And as for Dylan St. Clair, he’ll get what’s coming to him.”
“But why? What’s he ever done to you?”
“He’s a worthless little shit who tried and failed to drag your sister down to his level. As far as I’m concerned, he can crawl back into that gutter he came from.”
I opened my mouth to protest. He wasn’t a worthless little shit.
“Go back to the party, Scarlett. And try not to stir up any drama.”
I shut my mouth and walked out of the library.
It wasn’t my place to defend my sister’s ex-boyfriend to my father.
“What is this?” I asked the server, my hand shielding my mouth which was full of something that was not, in fact, chocolate mousse in a mini pie crust l
ike I’d assumed.
“Chicken liver mousse,” he said before moving on to his next victim, silver tray balanced on the palm of his hand.
“No wonder it tastes like ass,” I said under my breath.
Trying to be as subtle as possible, I spit the chicken liver mousse into my cocktail napkin, crumpled it up, and hid the evidence next to a Ming vase filled with gold-dipped roses. Behind me, I heard a deep masculine laugh.
“Not a fan of eating ass?”
I mentally face-palmed myself and turned around to put a face to the voice. The guy had a devil-may-care look about him. Brown hair tousled to perfection, a wicked grin, and a gleam in his eye like he’d found a kindred spirit.
“You heard that?” I asked, trying to suppress my smile.
“Your secret’s safe with me.” He clinked his champagne flute against mine. “I’m Logan, Chase’s brother.”
“Oh right. I’m Scarlett, Sienna’s—”
“Younger sister. I know.” He loosened the collar of his white dress shirt, his eyes darting around the room like he was looking for an escape hatch. I knew the feeling. “Do you want to get some fresh air?”
“I’d love to.”
We weaved through the shiny, plastic people milling about sipping champagne and cocktails in their designer dresses and suits, smiles firmly in place. I’d never enjoyed these types of social gatherings. It all just seemed so fake and so, so dull. The laughter and small talk so contrived it made me want to scream. We passed two couples discussing yachts and another group talking about the best place to buy a second vacation home. Gag me.
Logan set his empty champagne glass on the mahogany sideboard as we passed through the dining room and we sidestepped members of the catering crew who had taken over the kitchen. Emerging from the French doors onto the back patio, I filled my lungs with cool night air. This was the first time I’d breathed properly since I arrived at this party.
“Do you have it too?” Logan asked, studying my face. He was handsome. Almost too handsome.
“Have what?” I fished the raspberry garnish out of my champagne and popped it into my mouth to rid it of the taste of chicken liver. Blech.