Chapter 24 #2
I cut her off. “I know. I know you did. I’m so sorry, Everly.
I . . . the thought of my shit life hurting you.
It wrecked me. I told myself that pushing you away was the only way to keep you safe.
Part of me still feels that way—the old me.
Dr. Carver says that’s a lie. Those thoughts are lies.
I know that now, logically. Catching up emotionally takes a little .
. . a little more work. I remind myself that the old thought patterns are the lie.
That the new thoughts, patterns I’m building, are the truth.
” I blow a long breath out through puffed cheeks and turn my head back to the horizon.
“But I’ve done the work, Ever. I am doing the work. ”
Placing her hand on my shoulder blade, she rubs light circles.
“I can tell. But Julian, it wasn’t all you.
It was a perfect storm. I watched you pull away and it reminded me of my dad when he’d return from deployment.
He was there with us but he wasn’t. My mom would get so sad.
He was almost better when he was overseas fighting for a cause, more alive.
My whole life has been one big avoidance shit show.
First books, then Blue Lake, now Malibu.
I’m sorry I ran, bailed on you. On us.” I shake my head, cutting her off.
“No. I’m glad you did.” I reach for her hand, bring it to my lips and watch her as I say, “I was a train wreck and taking you down with me. I never wanted to hurt you. I still don’t.
I’m so happy you’re happy.” I feel the pressure build behind my eyes, so I look the opposite way, stare down the beach and blink it away.
“You were strong enough to walk away when I wasn’t.
And look what you’ve made for yourself. It’s incredible. You’re incredible.”
“Thank you, Julie. I do love it here. Allie and Ashley spoil me—like the kid they never had. It’s almost embarrassing, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t love the attention.”
A laugh rumbles in my chest. “I get that. And your friends? The twins?”
“They’re great. We met on campus. Tatum and I study the same major. They taught me how to surf. We’ve been inseparable since day one. How about you? Still see Taya?” She squints at me and places her free hand on her forehead to block the glare of the sun off the water.
I squeeze the hand I’m still holding. “I do. I think we feel like we’re the only family we’ve got.”
She’s nodding, her lips pressed into a thin line.
“There’s nothing going on. She feels like a sibling. Maybe. Not sure what that’s like but it doesn’t feel . . . We’re just friends.”
“I know. I believe you.” She rolls onto her side, facing me, and props her head on one hand and draws circles in the sand with the other. “She was nothing but kind to me, even after. I just couldn’t . . . It was too hard to see her, talk to her.”
“I know. She knows.” I feel a line of sweat run down my temple. The sun is baking. I see the fine beads on her upper lip. “Wanna go for a swim?”
“I do. It’s warm. But we’ve gotta make it quick.
Can’t be late for the party.” She springs off the sand and holds a hand down to me.
I take it, a smile tugging my lips upward, and let her pull me off the ground.
She jogs into the surf up to her waist and dives in, popping out of the surface a few feet away.
I mimic her and pop up next to her. My mouth waters at the sight of her tanned skin dripping wet. Impulsively I reach for her.
She wraps her arms and legs around me, and I pull her against me till we’re nose to nose. She dips her head and kisses me, long and lingering. “Salty.” She smiles against my lips.
“You too. I like it,” I say against hers.
She rewards me with another kiss, this time pressing her tongue past my lips, stroking it softly. “Mmm.” My body responds instantly. I break the kiss before I take her right here in the shallow surf. “We better go get ready for the party.”
She nods her agreement and swims for the shore.
“Right behind you,” I call. “Just need a minute here.” Her giggle trails behind her as she hits the beach and scoops her board off the sand.
Standing in the sand, feet slightly apart, board tucked under her arm, with the sun glistening off her wet body she looks like a goddess. It’s doing nothing to calm my raging hard-on. She cups her free hand over her eyes and squints against the sun, tracking me as I bob in the surf.
I can see her wheels turning from here. “What’s going on in there, pretty girl?” I project my voice over the pulse of the tide and toss my head at her, moving my arms back and forth to keep it above the surface.
Her nose wrinkles as her lips curve. She shakes her head, sending wet locks swaying across her shoulders. Shrugging, she calls, “Are we really doing this?”
I let the waves bring me closer to shore and ground myself in the wet sand, sloshing through the tide toward her.
She props the board upright next to her and leans on it as I walk to her, adjusting my clinging swim trunks.
“Do you want to . . . do this? Be together? I didn’t want to ask until I was sure I could be what you needed.
What you deserve. I know we should’ve waited to .
. . for . . .” My fingers itch to tuck her wet locks behind her ear, but I refrain from touching her.
That seems to be where we stop talking and start .
. . My body wants to finish that sentence.
“That’s on me. I missed you. Missed touching you. Kissing you.”
I shake my head at her. “Not all you, Ever. Chemistry has never been our issue.” I reach out now and touch only her hair until my fingers graze the shell of her ear as I wrap the rusty lock behind it.
Her skin already feels warm again from just the few minutes out of the sea.
“I want this. Us.” I wag my finger between us.
“But I want to always show you the best version of me. I’m doing the work. ”
“You already said that.” She taps one fingernail on my lips and smiles.
She leans in and places a light kiss on them.
“I can tell, Julie. And I’ve been working on my shit, too.
All we can do is try our best, right?” She smiles again, and I nod once, holding my breath.
“Besides, we owe it to the chemistry. Don’t ya think?
” She looks at me under her lashes as my jaw drops on a bark of laughter.
“Yeah, sassy girl, I do.” I reach for her board and tuck it under my arm, clasp her hand in my free one and we move toward the stairs in sync.