Uncharted Waters (Tides of Change #3)

Prologue

Eleven years earlier

Ipull the phone away from my ear when all I hear is more loud rustling and muffled voices. “Lo? Helloooo?”

I don’t even know why I answer the calls anymore.

When they aren’t an accidental butt-dial, they typically go about like this: now that she’s twenty-one, she calls me from outside some bar near her college campus—waking me up at all hours of the night—and then proceeds to slur her words as she rattles off all the reasons why “straight men are misogynistic, think-only-with-their-dick assholes.” Those once were her exact words, I kid you not.

Love Lauren right to pieces, she’s been my best friend since middle school, but damn don’t I wish she’d understand that I need sleep so I can keep this latest job being a janitor—oh, sorry, an environmental services specialist—at the local military base.

They are extremely fucking strict there about showing up on time.

Some of us didn’t choose the party-hard college lifestyle right out of high school like she did, some got rigidity and boringness chosen for us instead. Thanks a bunch, Daddio.

Pretty sure he thought this would, somehow, entice me to enlist—so he could continue to live out his dreams through me—but all it does is give me complete and utter disdain (with a side of nausea) at how trashed the restrooms get during the day.

I mean, seriously, what the fuck? We can do better than that; we're supposedly evolved and all that shit.

“Lauren Elizabeth Mayberry,” I huff, “I’m about to hang up on you…”

“H-hello?” an unfamiliar voice answers.

I know Lauren, and I know you’d have to fight tooth and nail to pry that phone away from her. Those hands might look dainty, but—speaking from experience—they’re most definitely not. And her cell? Pfft, forget about it. That thing is pretty much an extension of her.

“Who are you? Why do you have Lo’s phone?”

“I’m Ashley, her roommate. I dialed her emergency contact…”

I sit up in bed, throwing the sheets off me. “What’s going on? Ashley, are you with Lauren right now?”

“Something’s not right. She’s back in our dorm right now, but I know she was out at one of the frat houses earlier.

One of their parties. A couple of guys just dumped her off here, and she’s pretty out of it.

They said they found her outside a bar, but I don’t know how she got there. She asked that I call you…”

“Fuck,” I hiss into the phone.

“I’m sorry…”

“No, don’t be. You did the right thing, calling me. I’m going to head that way now, but Ashley? It takes me a couple hours to drive from Harrisburg to Scranton. Does she look like she’s been hurt?”

“Um, she has a couple of bruises that look new on her upper arms. A scrape on her cheek that I don’t remember seeing before I went to class this morning…”

My jaw tightens; a wave of fear-induced nausea washes over me. “What’s she doing now?”

“She curled up on her bunk. She’s crying, but won’t tell me what’s wrong. She just keeps saying she needs ‘her Marcus.’ I’m assuming that’s you…”

“It is. Fuck. I’m getting dressed right now. Can you ask her if she needs you to call campus security or the police or anything?”

I can hear more muffled voices on the other end of the line before some rustling. Finally, Lauren gets on the line, but she sounds more distraught than I have ever heard her before. “M-Marcus, I need you to take me to the emergency room. O-only you. Please.”

My stomach just about drops out of me entirely. I’ve never heard such pain in her voice. “I’m on my way, Lo. I’ll be there as quickly as I can.”

“S-stay on the phone with me? I j-just need to hear you…”

“Who hurt you?”

She cries out, her sobs twisting my insides violently. Here I am, helplessly listening to the strongest person I know emotionally bleeding out on the other end of the line. Amongst the pulse pounding violently in my ears, I hear her croak, “I-I don’t know who…”

I vaguely hear my dad yelling at me from his bedroom window, but I don’t even bother responding before I’m in my truck, backing out of the driveway with my phone pinched between my chin and shoulder.

I know I’ll catch hell over the spray of gravel I leave in my wake, but that’s the least of my concern at the moment.

Lauren. I have to get to Lauren. Somebody hurt my Lauren.

Lauren picks at a thread on the quilt she’s had on her bed for as long as I can remember. We’re in her childhood bedroom, where she’s been holed up most of the time since dropping out of nursing school two months ago. She never went back after that night.

I can’t say that I blame her. The memories would be too much for me to handle too.

I mean, what she can remember, at least. The night was mostly a blur to her.

What she does recall is accepting a drink from someone she didn’t know, and then wound up being brought back to the dorm—flustered and upset—by a couple of other guys she also was unfamiliar with.

The “friend” she went to the party with wasn’t too much help either.

Apparently when her classmate, Elaina, left the bar, Lauren appeared to be happy and chatting with someone she’d met there.

Mostly, Lo blames herself for what happened during the blackout, and I hate that for her.

We sit in silence. I have no idea what I could possibly say or do to quell her anxiety right now.

She assures me that my presence here is more than enough to ground her, but—fuck, I hate feeling so helpless.

I wish I knew the right steps to take so that I could offer her the same kind of support she’s shown me for years. I’m just not as strong as her, I guess.

She’s always been the embodiment of a dark rose to me.

Strong enough to withstand the harsh conditions life throws at it, thorny enough to defend itself, but when nurtured, it blooms—beautiful and eye-catching.

Why dark? Because her favorite color is black, and on a rose, it definitely stands out amongst the variety of colors typically associated with the flower.

Finally, the timer on her phone chimes, and I feel like I’m watching petals of her wilt and wither. My gut coils with nervous anticipation. “Do you want to check it, or do you want me to?” I offer.

She swallows hard, blinking back tears. “Can you, please?”

I nod, rising off the bed and stepping over to her desk.

I hold up the stick and read the digital screen.

My heart shatters at the word in front of me, the same way it did the night she confirmed that she’d been drugged and sexually assaulted—and the way it broke all over again when she said she didn’t want to pursue an investigation and press charges because she just wanted to forget it ever happened.

Not that I thought she ever could forget it, but now it’ll be even more impossible.

“It’s positive, isn’t it?” she rasps, choking back a sob. “Your face says it all…”

“I’m so sorry, Lo.”

It’s all I can offer in consolation. It doesn’t seem like it’s even remotely enough though. I wish I had the magical ability to take all her hurt away, but I know I don’t. All I can give to her right now is the quiet reassurance that I’ll be here for her, no matter what.

I kneel down on the bed beside her and tug her into my arms. Her shoulders shudder and wetness soaks the shoulder of my shirt. She silently sobs, likely having no more fight in her to cry out audibly. I rub her back, twisting my head to gently press a kiss into her dyed-dark hair.

“What do I do, Marcus?” she croaks, sniffing back more tears.

I sigh. “Oh, Lo. I can’t make that decision for you. That, unfortunately, has to be all you, babe. I wouldn’t blame you at all, if… you know…”

She pulls back, studying my face. After a few tense moments of silence, she licks her lips. “I don’t know if I can do that. It goes against every fiber of my being, despite how this came to be. I always wanted to be a mom… just, someday. And with someone I love. Not now, and not like this.”

I tuck some of her stray waves behind her ear and then cup her cheek.

“Whatever you do decide, I will be with you one hundred and ten percent.” Her lips thin into a line—almost a weak smile, but not quite.

“You and me, Lauren. We’re always going to be each other’s peas,” I remind her, because ever since we first met, everyone has always described us as two peas in a pod.

I also think that everyone has been shipping us for just as long, but no one in the world knows this besides her: I’m gay. She and I? We’re platonic soulmates. Of that, I’m sure.

“Will you stay with me tonight?” she asks, peering up at me through her long, dark lashes—the ones still damp with tears.

“Mom and Dad don’t come back until late tomorrow, and I don’t want to be alone.

Besides, they’ll get all up in my business, and I still don’t feel ready to talk to them about all this yet. ”

“Of course. I’ll call my dad and let him know not to expect me at work tomorrow…”

“Oh.” Her head dips between her slumped shoulders. “Didn’t he say he was gonna have you shit-canned if you ducked out on work again? Maybe you should go…”

I shake my head. “No, I’m staying with you.

He can fuckin’ deal,” I reply, displaying as much false bravado as I can muster when it comes to all things my dad—behind his back, of course.

I’d never say that straight to his face.

He was extremely active and high-ranking in the military before he was forced into medical retirement from active duty.

Typically, you don’t say anything to his face besides, “Yes, sir.”

“I’m a twenty-two year old man; I could stand to be out from under his thumb anyway,” I add with a huff.

“Been telling you that for a while. Not that I can talk, especially now that I am living under my parents’ roof again too.”

I offer her a sad smile. “Yeah, but you have your reasons for moving back home. Not like me, who has no idea what he wants to do with his life. Besides, your parents are way more lax than mine ever dreamed of being.”