Chapter Two
“I ’m sorry, so sorry.” Em apologized for what had to be the fifth time in as many minutes.
“It’s fine,” I said.
After kissing the cheek my mother grudgingly turned in my direction and giving her a hug, which was not returned, I decided it might be best if she was given some time to get used to the idea of my being here and escaped upstairs to my old room.
“I should have told her you were coming once Soph texted me from the airport, but I was trying to get her to eat some breakfast and first she wanted eggs, and then she wanted toast, but then it became pancakes, and, well, I forgot.”
We were standing in my childhood bedroom on the second floor of the house. I glanced around the room. Not much had changed since I’d fled into the night nine years ago. The one time I’d been back five years ago, I’d stayed at Sophie’s house as it was less stressful for everyone concerned, but this trip I’d planned to stay with Babs, so I could better assess the situation.
My old queen-sized bed with its matching desk and dresser was still here. The paint on the walls was the same sage green that I had spent endless hours staring at as a teen. A cream-colored comforter set decorated the bed, that was new, but the room still had all the personality of a motel.
That had been life with Babs. No boy band posters on the walls, no stuffed animals decorating any surfaces, no toys or books or games were to be visible. She was a big believer in a place for everything and everything in its place. Basically, there was never to be any indication of the personality of the resident of the room—ever. I had often wondered if Babs had hoped for generic children. She did not get her wish with me.
I strode over to the closet and slid one of the double doors open. The closet was mostly empty, just some extra pillows and blankets on the shelves, but if a person knew where to look, like the backside of the sliding doors, they could find all of my teenage personality stapled right there.
Moving my carryon into the closet, I stepped inside and turned around. Then I grinned. My Green Day and The Killers posters were exactly where I’d stuck them, as well as my collection of surf brand stickers from Lightning Bolt. I smiled. It was as if I had stepped into a time capsule.
My fingers ran over the frayed edges of the stickers, and the yellowing tape on some of the song lyrics I had written out on notebook paper and taped to the door. Then I saw the strip of photographs taken in a photo booth of me and my then boyfriend Liam Mahony, faded but still there. Just the sight of us smiling at one another, giddy with the infatuation of first love, felt like a punch in the feels I hadn’t braced my feet for.
I stepped out of the closet, slamming the door shut behind me. Em was frowning at me, but I didn’t explain. Liam Mahony was old news, the oldest news. I hadn’t seen him in nine years and had no plans to see him ever again. I couldn’t...not after what I’d done to him.
“You okay?” Em asked. “You look weird.”
Clearly, she had no idea about the adolescent artifacts that existed on the inside of my closet doors; no one did.
“Weird how?” I asked. “Weird as in my mother just rejected me, again, or just weird in general?”
Em twisted her fingers together and I could tell she felt awful, which being her older sister by two years meant I should have alleviated her angst. I was the person who was supposed to comfort her not make her feel lousy. But I wasn’t there yet.
“I’m sorry, Em. I’m bitchy because I’m really tired. Maybe if I nap, I’ll be less of a jerk.”
“You’re not. It’s okay. That’s a good idea.” Em stammered. “You rest. I’ll be downstairs with Mom and Sophie if you need anything.”
“Cool,” I said. Before she could bolt, I stepped forward and hugged her. It was awkward. I went high and she did, too. I adjusted at the same time she did and we ended up in a slanted hug that felt unnatural. I let go first. “It’s really good to see you, Em-cee-squared.”
She smiled at the old nickname; I’d had a million of them when we were kids.
“You, too,” she said. “Everything will be okay now that you’re here.”
My eyebrows went up, and I opened my mouth to ask what she meant by that but she slipped out the door, closing it behind her. As the youngest, Em had lots of practice listening in on the grown-ups, gathering information like a squirrel hoarding acorns and never getting caught. In short, she could be slippery.
I wondered why she thought my being here was going to make anything better when historically speaking, I was the one who typically made everything worse by being at constant odds with Babs.
I climbed onto the bed. The mattress was harder than I remembered. The last time I’d slept in this room had been nine years ago. I didn’t miss it. I told myself this was temporary and as soon as I knew what was going on with Babs, I’d scuttle back to New York with all the speed of a cockroach escaping the light.
I had my own life in New York, and as much as I missed my sisters, I had a full and rich existence that they just weren’t a part of, much like I wasn’t a part of their lives here. Besides, I hated the way Babs made me feel when I came home, like I was a disappointment because I hadn’t lived up to her expectations of me.
It might’ve helped if I’d understood what her expectations were, but Babs was the master at never really telling you how she felt so that you were always left dangling, swinging in mid-air by a thread that you knew she would cut at any moment.
I kicked off my shoes and rolled myself up in the comforter like a caterpillar in a cocoon. A yawn escaped me and I let it stretch my whole face wide, leading the way for the rest of my body to relax. I planned to take a power nap. Twenty minutes of rest and I’d be fine, ready to conquer the world or Babs’s incessant criticism at any rate.
I woke up ten hours later as the sun was setting over the Pacific. Damn it!
“No, no, no,” I cried.
Lurching upright, I stretched, fingers tingling in the hand that had been trapped under my head while I’d slept. I shook out my arm, trying to get the blood flowing. I scowled at the window where the sky was just turning the color of a sun-kissed peach.
Why hadn’t anyone woken me up? This was so bad. I was never going to sleep tonight and tomorrow would be even worse than today had been. If things kept up this way, by the end of the visit I was going be on the same sleep schedule as the area bats.
Climbing off the bed, I crossed the room and glanced in the mirror. Ye god, my hair had woven itself into some sort of funky hair hat. The corkscrew curls that were the bane of my existence had broken free of the braid I’d wrestled them into and now looked like individual antenna desperately seeking life out in the cosmos. I slapped a hand to my forehead, dreading my next meeting with Babs.
One of my earliest childhood memories was of my mother coming at me with a straightening iron, determined to tame my dark curls once and for all. Four-year-old me had sobbed and cried, terrified that she was going to burn me. Of course, now I realized she wouldn’t have but at the time the fear was a very real thing.
It was one of the more significant instances of my childhood. My father had stepped up in a rare moment of parenting and told Babs to leave me alone. I had inherited his wild curls, and I knew he liked seeing that trait in one of his girls. He had unplugged the straightener and told my mother to back off—yes, in those exact words. To me, he was my hero, my shining knight, the slayer of my dragons. To Babs, he had crossed a line and she’d looked at him in shock, as if he had slapped her. In retrospect, that was most likely the moment where her intense dislike for me began, shaping our relationship for years to come.
My father, who had always called me Peanut , died when I was ten. My larger than life dad with the big booming laugh, gentle hugs, and a charmer’s smile left me. He’d been the one person who was always on my side and who loved me unconditionally. The day he died my entire world crumbled. Dad suffered a cardiac arrest at his corporate muckety-muck job and was dead before the ambulance arrived. Luckily for Babs, who had never worked a day in her life, he had left her a very, very wealthy woman.
Babs would argue, of course, and say that being a good wife to my father had been a full time job. This I had difficulty believing, given that she had a housekeeper, a gardener, and for the big life events, an entire catering staff.
Babs had bagged my father with her va-va-va-voom figure, her thick honey-blond hair, her cute little upturned nose and her big blue eyes. That was the only feature of hers which I had inherited, a variation of her eyes. Hers were a pale blue, mine were darker, but we were the only ones in the family with blue eyes so I always felt it was a bond of sorts. You would think this would give me a pass with her. No.
In deference to Babs, I took my straightening iron out of my bag and plugged it in. It would take a while, but maybe I could tame my wild mane enough to mollify her. Although, why I cared what she thought I had no idea, thus the hours spent in my therapist’s office talking about the crazy train breaking down at the dysfunction junction which was my childhood.
While I waited for the iron to heat, I unpacked, putting my meager clothing into two of the four empty dresser drawers. My laptop bag which also functioned as my purse was next. I set up my computer on the desk in front of the window, plugging it into the outlet below.
I sat at my old desk, wondering how much my back was going to hurt with the crappy ergonomics of this situation. Since I designed websites for a living, the amount of hours I spent hunched over a keyboard was significant. Truly, it was a small wonder that I didn’t already resemble a one hump camel.
I popped open my laptop, planning to check my email and see if any of my clients were having a meltdown due to my surprise unavailability today. While I waited for my computer to boot up, I glanced over the top of the monitor at the neighbor’s house. Much like putting on lipstick to appease Babs, memory was guiding my actions, reminding me of how I functioned in this space.
How many hours had I spent sitting right here, dreaming of the boy next door? Countless. Endless. Years worth. Liam Mahony was my first crush or “Trouble” as Babs called him. She’d been right. He was trouble in the best possible way.
I’d been fifteen when this brash, wild new boy had appeared in the window across the yard. He had a thick thatch of dark brown hair, a ridiculously ripped torso from hours spent taming the surf, and a smile that literally melted my shorts.
Our houses mirrored each other and California real estate being what it was with houses built spitting distance from each other, our rooms were only fifteen feet apart. Plenty close enough for a teen girl to get her fill of teen boy eye candy.
The tomboy in me had no idea what to make of the feelings the guy with the killer smile caused to flutter up inside of me like bubbles in a soda pop. One part of me wanted to run away from him as far and as fast as I could, but another part of me was fascinated like a diver facing a shark. I was both attracted by the mystery of this unknown species of boy and terrified of the same.
It took a few days for Liam Mahony to notice that we had the same walking route to school, sat in the same algebra class, and surfed the same waves in the afternoons and on weekends. When he stopped in front of me and introduced himself one afternoon, I panicked. We’re talking full-on brain stutter, tripping over my own feet, complete neuro shut-down mother fluffing panic.
I’d probably looked like I’d been hit with a Taser. It sure felt like it and I was forever grateful that I didn’t start to slobber and drool on the spot or even worse pee myself. Terrified, unable to speak, and at a loss for any coolness I might ever have possessed, I nodded at him once and fled the scene on foot like a criminal trying to outrun the law.
I spent the next two weeks avoiding him while covertly spying on him. I surfed different beaches, rode my skateboard to school, and refused to look at him during class. I couldn’t handle the sizzle and zip I felt whenever he was near me. Even when he started hanging around with one of my closest friends, Jessie Lopez, I still couldn’t be near him without being rendered utterly stupid.
It did not stop me from watching him when I thought he wasn’t looking, however. From the cover of my darkened bedroom, I studied him in his room across the way. He did his homework at a desk in front of his window just like me. He also paced a lot, cranked his music, and, lord-a-mercy, lifted weights. The boy worked out every day, and I spied on him behind the cover of my sheer curtains, every day. Still, I never spoke to him and avoided any sort of contact, even ditching my friend Jessie if it meant I’d have to be in the same orbit as Liam.
And then everything changed. On a rainy Saturday, I took my board to one of the less popular beaches. It was called Devil’s Backbone because there was a line of treacherous rocks hidden below the surf. Only the locals knew how to navigate the area, but the waves were decent, no ankle busters, and it was worth the risk if you knew what you were doing.
I was out alone for most of the morning, enjoying the rides I’d caught, the sound of the waves, the pelicans flying overhead while they fished for their lunch with dramatic diving catches. It was all very peaceful and Zen, until he showed up. Jogging out into the surf with his board tucked under his arm, I recognized him right away. Liam Mahony.
I glanced behind me, praying for a wave to appear that I could ride in to get away from him. The sea was as calm as glass. What the hell?
Liam climbed onto his board and paddled right for me. My heart started to pound in my chest and I was sweating despite the chill of the sea water my feet were dangling in. I could paddle back to shore to avoid him, but that would probably look weird, and I desperately did not want him to think I was any weirder than I was sure he already thought I was.
When he slowed alongside me, I glanced in both directions. There was a vast open ocean out here. He could surf anywhere. Why was he in my space, making my insides melt and my outsides shiver? I sent a silent prayer of thanks to the laundry goddess, also known as Helena our housekeeper, that I was wearing my best bikini, the purple one that made my bazooms look way bigger than they actually were.
“Hi, Julia.” Liam’s voice was low and gravelly. It hooked into the center of me, and I realized I really liked hearing my name on his lips.
He hauled himself up to straddle his board, and I watched as the water poured off his body. I wasn’t positive but I was pretty sure I went momentarily cross-eyed at the sight.
“So, what’s a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?”
“Huh?” I had to drag my gaze away from his chest to meet his warm brown eyes.
He grinned at me and the slash of white teeth against his full lips made my throat go dry and this time I knew I went cross-eyed and saw spots. Have mercy!
It was then that an enormous wave came and plowed us into the surf. I went down with a yelp and lost sight of Liam. We were on top of Devil’s Backbone and I was terrified that he’d been slammed into the rocks below. I popped up out of the water as another wave hit, dragging me down. My shoulder scraped a rock but I was able to push off of it and swim to the surface.
When I came up again, I saw Liam face down in the water. His board was loose and being carried on the crest of a wave toward the beach. Meanwhile Liam was headed straight for the rocks. I climbed onto my board and paddled toward him. Another wave separated us, but I kept track of the bright yellow swim trunks he had on and used them to spot him. I grabbed him by the arm before he was pushed into a worse section of rocks and hauled him onto my board. With him unconscious but safe, I turned us toward the beach and paddled as hard as I could.
It took all of my strength to maneuver us in. Once we reached the sand, I ripped off my ankle harness, grabbed Liam under the arms, and dragged him up the beach until we were half in and half out of the surf. His eyes were closed and I couldn’t tell if he’d hit his head on a rock or his board or if he’d just taken in so much water he couldn’t breathe.
“Come on, new boy,” I begged him. “Wake up and open those pretty eyes for me.”
I knew basic CPR as Babs had insisted that I learn if I was going to spend my days on the beach. I think she had grand visions of me being the next Pam Anderson. Yeah, no.
Instinct took over and I went through all of the things I remembered a first responder was supposed to do. I listened to his heart and tried to see if he was breathing. I was so freaked out, I couldn’t tell. I checked his mouth for an obstruction and his eyes to see if they were dilated.
Seeing no other recourse, I figured mouth to mouth was in order. I tipped his head back, closed his nose, took a deep breath and blew into him, trying to inflate his lungs or push out the water or whatever it was this was supposed to do. He remained terrifyingly unresponsive.
I was going in for the third time when I became aware of his hand in my hair, holding me in place while his tongue ran over my lips and he fit his mouth against mine, kissing me with a wicked thoroughness that left me, who had never been kissed before, stunned.
When he ended the kiss, he sat up and pressed his forehead to mine, each of us short of breath as if we’d both nearly drowned.
“I knew it,” Liam said. His voice was gruff. “I knew it would be like that between us.”
After a couple of moments, I sat back on my heels and studied him, uncertain about what had just happened but crazily wanting it to happen again.
“So, it looks like you’re going to live.” I was pleased my voice sounded so much calmer than I felt.
“Yeah.” His deep brown eyes were fixed on my mouth and a flash of heat lit up my insides like a tiki torch.
I didn’t know what to make of that, so I latched onto the much more familiar feeling of anger. My terror about what could have happened came roaring up out of me like a geyser. I punched him on the shoulder. Hard. It barely rocked him.
“Damn it, Liam, you scared the crap out of me!” I cried. “You could have been killed. We both could have.”
He tipped his head and batted his ridiculously long eyelashes at me. “Aw, don’t be mad, surfer girl. Look at it this way, since you just saved my life, you own it now.”
“Huh?” I blinked at him.
“It’s true,” he said. “When you save a person’s life, they are forever in your debt. They belong to you.”
I stared at him for a moment and then I threw back my head and laughed. It was a great big belly laugh, a guffaw if you will, and much to my relief he didn’t look offended so much as amused.
“I’m serious.” He winked at me, then lowered his voice and added, “Now you can do whatever you want with me.”
Well, didn’t that just send a delicious shiver through me. Sadly, for him, I wasn’t an idiot. I shook my head at him and grinned. I could not believe he would waste a move like this on me.
“So, new boy, this fake drowning thing,” I said. “Is that your move? And if so, how’s it working out for you?”
“That depends, surfer girl,” he said. “Will you go out with me tonight?”
My chest constricted and my breath was short. Liam Mahony, Liam hot-as-shit Mahony, was asking me out, not only that but he had feigned drowning to do it. There was clearly only one answer to be made.
“Yeah, sure, I could do that,” I said. I shrugged as if it was no big deal, when, ermagawd it was a big freaking deal!
His grin was blinding. “Well, then I can tell you that since I have only used the faked drowning technique to ask out one girl, you , it’s success rate is one-hundred-percent.”
“You know you could have gotten hurt for real,” I said. The fear came back as I remembered seeing him face down in the water, headed for the rocks. “Devil’s Backbone is out there and it’s a gnarly stretch of rock.”
“Well, I’ve been watching you, and I knew you could get us out of there. I believed in you.”
Yep, my heart pretty much took flight right there.
“Besides,” he continued, “given that you’ve been avoiding me like I’m a carrier for the plague, drastic measures were required. And after that kiss, I’ve got to say a concussion or near drowning would have been totally worth it. I like you, Julia Blumer. I have from the moment I first saw you.”
Probably, I should have dropped dead on the spot, like I was pretty sure I was going to, and our story would have had a happier—okay, not so much for me—ending. But I didn’t and we didn’t. Pity.
I continued staring at the darkened window across the way, tasting the bitter flavor of regret on my tongue. There was no point in dwelling on the past I told myself. It was dusted and done, and I couldn’t go back. Sadly, one of the first lessons learned when leaving childhood behind was that in real life there are no do-overs.
Suddenly, a light snapped on in the bedroom across the way. Curious, I watched and, as if he’d been ripped right out of my daydreams and thrust back into my reality, Liam Mahony strode into the room, shirtless. Oh. My. God.