15. Clock Ticks
FIFTEEN
CLOCK TICKS
GIGI
For the second time this afternoon, Parker excuses himself to take a phone call. I can’t help but watch him as he steps away from us toward the water, out of our hearing range. He speaks with great animation, his arms moving as he speaks.
When he must be done with the call, he pockets his phone. Dawson comes up to him then, and I’m way too invested now to look away. The two of them appear to discuss something intensely, both crossing arms as if taking battled positions. Things heat, judging by their faces, and Parker storms off, but not before ramming his shoulder against Dawson as he brushes past. I’m skeptical about the situation, wanting to read so much into their actions.
Jackson is busy playing football with the boys. He’s like a kid himself when he’s among them, and it’s obvious the teens admire him. He has a natural charm that wins over everyone he meets.
“Hi ladies, mind if I sit?” Dawson interrupts by dragging a chair over to Kelsea, setting it beside her at an angle so he can see her face while he visits. He shows no sign of the previous altercation with Parker. Thinking back, it’s always been something between the two of them. Best of friends, but butting heads, too.I’d always thought it was because of Dawson’s crush on Kelsea, but there might be more to it.
“Hi Dawson,” Kelsea greets him with a broad smile. “Enjoying the day?”
“I am now,” he replies with a wink. He’s tanned, well-built, and almost as attractive as Jackson, but his demeanor is warmer and more playful compared to my more intense military man.
While Belle and I are playing with little Brayden on a nearby blanket—giving Beau and Addie a break—I notice that for the first time today, Kelsea’s cheeks are flush with color, as if Dawson’s attention tints them pink. I can’t help but think he suits her, though it appears Parker’s old grudges keep them apart. Dawson then lifts a paper plate holding a generous slice of rich chocolate cake.
“Gotta have my sweets for the day, and Addie makes the best. Have you had a piece yet? Come on, try a bite,” he offers, holding the fork near her lips. However, she pulls away.
“I’d love to, but I need to watch my figure. I don’t get much exercise, and if I eat too much, I’ll end up looking like a beached whale in this wheelchair,” she giggles nervously.
“Not possible. You’ll always look beautiful, Kels.” A heated stare passes between them, and I quickly glance at Belle to confirm I’m not imagining the chemistry. Belle raises her eyebrows at me. “Come on. One bite won’t hurt. Besides, it makes my day to see you smile,” he pleads, and brings the fork to her mouth again.
This time, she opens and slowly accepts it, her eyes sultry. The tension between them is palpable; the air charges with unspoken desires and dreams left unfulfilled. I look away, disheartened by witnessing two people who might be meant for each other, never realizing their full potential.
My eyes drift to Jackson like he’s the only man on the beach—we could have been like them, never opening ourselves up to find out if we were meant to be.
“I was disappointed when Parker told me you didn’t want to try those special classes down at the YMCA. I was hoping to see you there,” Dawson remarks, stuffing a big bite into his mouth.
“What classes?” Kelsea asks, wrinkling her forehead.
“Didn’t he mention? Cooper’s been working at the Y after school and on weekends. They really appreciate his hard work; the management even lets me and the other three boys work out there for free. On the pool bulletin board, I saw there’s a rehabilitation clinic twice a week for wheelchair-bound patients, always with a one-to-one ratio of students to teachers. I thought you might enjoy something different like that,” he explains with a shrug.
“That sounds wonderful, Kelsea,” I encourage.
“Oh, I would—but… Parker probably looked into it. The membership must be expensive; otherwise, I’m sure he’d have mentioned it. Or maybe he just forgot,” she offers, trying to brush it off, though it only deepens my curiosity about their situation. “Things haven’t been easy financially. After I fought with my old insurance company in New York, to no avail, we’ve had to pay all the bills ourselves since I moved here. Anyway, I’m sure you don’t really want to hear about our problems.”
“You can talk to me anytime. I’m a good listener,” Dawson reassures her, finishing his cake and setting the plate aside on the cooler next to me. It is only at that moment that I notice— with a gasp escaping me—a scar running along the length of his wrist.
“Dawson, how did you get that scar?” I ask immediately, pointing at it.
“Oh, that? Just a fishing accident a few months ago,” he dismisses it quickly, turning back to Kelsea. My mind goes right there to illegal fishing accident. “I guess I got lucky when the courts granted me legal guardianship of the boys. They’re covered by my work insurance now. Still, it’s a constant paycheck-to-paycheck struggle with the way these kids eat. Every night I’m praying for scholarships so they can go to college. And now Wes wants to return to hockey. I just can’t afford it. Josh is the only one being sensible—and he rarely costs me anything extra. He wants to be a firefighter and stay here in our small town, just like I did.”
Beau chimes in, “Dawson, give me a call later this week. Some of my teammates and I can sponsor Wes, covering his equipment and expenses through our foundation.”
“Really? Man, that’d be great. Now if only I could find a grocery store to sponsor us. Got any contacts there?” Dawson chuckles, lightening the mood.
Addie squeezes Beau’s arm. “And you and your brothers are always welcome over. I keep extra food at my place because you never know when one of Beau’s old pals from the Puckers’ team is going to drop by. They just can’t get enough of Love Beach.”
“Thanks, Addie. That means a lot. I was planning to ask if Beau’s grandparents might hire the boys again this summer—maybe to mow the lawn and take care of things while they travel. The more I can get these kids working and earning a bit of money, the better,” Dawson adds.
“We could hire them too. Davis is swamped with work, and I’m constantly exhausted with this pregnancy. When this little one finally arrives, we’re going to have our hands full. Having someone look after our lawn would be perfect,” Belle offers.
Everyone around seems so supportive, yet I’m the only one overthinking—about friends, scars, and even officers who have endless opportunities to cross legal lines and cover things up.
While I admire Dawson relentlessly doing his best to keep his family fed, clothed, and sheltered, and I respect Parker for everything he does for his sister, it’s clear these people are grappling with real financial issues. How easily could they be tempted into criminal activity, lured by money in desperate times?
And yet, could they ever go so far as to attack me? These are men I’ve known forever—supposedly my friends.
As Dawson continues chatting with Kelsea and the others, Belle turns toward me. “Are you okay? I haven’t had a chance to talk with you all day,” she says, gently trying to tame my unruly curls with a sweep near my ear.
“Fine. Yeah,” I reply, dismissing the turmoil in my mind. “You mama bears were busy in the cave chatting about your babies, so I stayed out of it—it’s like a different world to me.” I watch how her belly grows week after week; seeing it only fuels the fantasy of being Jackson’s baby mama.
As usual, she reads my thoughts. “If you play your cards right, you could end up with one of these with someone special,” she hints, not so subtly, twisting her head toward Jackson.
I catch his eye from across the way for what feels like the umpteenth time today. After he’s finished playing with the guys, he lands on his back on the blanket beside me. Gently, he scoops up little Brayden and pretends to fly him like an airplane. “Hey little man, it’s Uncle Jackson time now,” he says. The kid giggles at him, though I groan inwardly. Just as I think I’m not ready for kids, an internal clock starts ticking louder.
“Hey Gigi, why don’t you and I take this kid for a walk down to the pier and back?” he suggests. I can’t say no, and I’m actually glad for some alone time with him. A few minutes later, I’m wearing my cover-up and a backpack filled with anything we might need for the short half-hour away from Addie, while Jackson proudly pushes the cutie pie in the stroller.
We head down the private beach that eventually merges with the public one and the pier. Along the way, Tawny bounds up, slobbery ball in mouth. With every throw, Brayden giggles as the furry dog retrieves it. I take photos and videos, sending them back to Addie.
By the time we reach the pier, the crowd has thinned, and a sleepy Brayden has closed his eyes for a nap. A gentle breeze stirs around us. The sun will soon begin its descent, and off in the distance, clouds have started to gather, threatening to obscure our view of the stars tonight if they move inland.
“I love this pier. Always have,” Jackson murmurs as we wander to its end, where he gazes out into the distance. “When I was growing up, I used to stand here, staring out at the Atlantic, wishing I could go explore what lay beyond.”
“Did you get enough exploring while serving in the military?” I tease.
He shrugs. “Sort of.”
“Oh.” What in the world would keep a man like him here at Love Beach, when his spirit yearns to roam the vast unknown? Add in my worries about Parker and Dawson, and I’m left in a complete tizzy.
“Want to tell me what’s going on, G?” He turns his back on the view, resting his elbows on the rail of the pier. Two young women give him a once-over—checking out both him and the adorable baby in the stroller—as they pass by, but he pays them no mind; his gaze is fixed on mine. “Talk to me.”
“You think you know me that well?”
“Gigi, I feel like I’ve been unraveling your mysteries my entire life. You just never realized it.” His fingertips brush against my arm, eliciting a shiver that travels down my spine.
“You’re right. I’m questioning a lot of things.”
Without missing a beat, he moves closer, his hand settling on the small of my back. “Questioning us? Do you know why I brought you up here? I wanted to steal a kiss under that old legend.”
I know what he refers to. “That supposedly when lovers kiss for the very first time at the end of the pier, it’s supposed to bring them good luck?”
“Yeah. That one.” He leans in.
“This wouldn’t be our first time, though,” I feel the need to point out.
“Then darlin’, we’ll forge our own luck.” His lips melt into mine. My heart races, having craved him all day. I grip his shoulders tightly, as if I could keep him locked in place, never letting him leave. But I know that’s beyond my control. He’s committed to finishing his military duty—loyal to a fault—and I respect that deeply.
“Hey. When I get out of the military, let’s make a list together of all the places we want to visit. We can pick one and plan our first vacation and explore someplace new together.”
I gape at him, incredulous. “How did you know one of my biggest fears is not being enough to keep you here?”
“Like I said. I think I know you pretty well. When I talk about wanting to see places, you don’t think I’m going without you, do you? Better make sure your passport is up to date, darlin’.” He punctuates his words with a playful kiss on my nose.
I beam with possibility—so many adventures waiting for us. Sure, there were countries I once dreamed of visiting, but I’d never been passionate about travelling until now. With Jackson, I’d be up for anything, and every journey with him would promise to be an exhilarating adventure. The last few days have certainly felt that way.
“We should bring Brayden back before it gets too dark. Come on.” He takes my hand, our tender moment on the pier fades into a sweet memory, and we stroll back down the beach. “You’re still quiet. There’s more you’re not saying.”
I let out a small laugh. “Am I never going to be able to keep things from you?”
“I’d hope not.” He gives my hand a reassuring squeeze. And so I confess about the scars.
“In the hospital, when Mike said he felt a scar on his attacker’s wrist, it triggered a memory of my attack. I felt one, too.”
He stops mid-step, dropping my hand and sharply turning toward me. “You’re just now telling me—” His raised voice briefly wakes the baby, but soon enough, the little one drifts off again. Lowering his voice, he continues, “Between the blows to both your and Mike’s heads, and now the scars, both attackers must be the same person.
“Yeah, but…”
“What did the scar look like? How raised was it? How big?” His barrage of questions catches me off guard, and I can’t answer them.
“I didn’t see it; I felt it during the struggle, like Mike did.” I mimic the frantic motions of that night, my hands circling my neck as if trying to peel off an arm around me. A tear escapes, and I confess, “Jackson, I’m freaking out because today I noticed something—both Parker and Dawson have scars on their wrists.”
He blinks and recoils as if I had swung a punch at him. “You’re kidding me. These are our friends, G. They have nothing to do with my mission.” His irritated tone takes me aback.
I narrow my eyes. “Trust me, I’ve been telling myself the same thing all afternoon, but my intuition keeps?—”
“It’s wrong,” he seethes.
“But you’re the one who told me to trust it more.”
“Then I must have been wrong.” He scoffs. “I’ve known these guys a long time. They’re like brothers to me, and to Davis and Beau. You’re like family to them. There’s no way in hell either of them would attack you. No way!”
He marches back toward our friends, and I trail a few steps behind, dejected and doubting everything between us.