Chapter 21
Opinion: Saving the world is overrated.
—Delilah Dune, opinion writer
A n hour or so later, Lyla sat in front of a bonfire that Travis had made on his property. She could feel the heat radiating off the bonfire’s flames and it was enough to make her want to close her eyes and go to sleep. Dusk was falling and Travis had gone quiet while drinking a bottled water beside her. At least she thought it was water in that bottle. Maybe he had gone to sleep himself.
“I lied the other day,” she finally said, needing to confess.
He looked over. “About what?”
“When I said I didn’t read your emails. I don’t know why I told you I didn’t, because I did. I read them all.”
He stared at her, expressionless. “You did?”
She offered a brief nod. “I kept them in a special folder in my inbox, so I wouldn’t accidentally delete them. I still have it.”
“You do?” he asked.
“Mm-hmm. I guess I didn’t want to sound like a total loser the other day, admitting that I hung on every word you sent. Especially since I never reciprocated. It seemed almost worse if I read the emails, but didn’t respond.”
“It’s not worse,” he said quietly. “I think maybe it’s better. My words weren’t wasted.”
“If I could go back in time, I’d email you back, Travis. I’m not sure what I’d say, but I wouldn’t have lost touch with you.” She ran her open palms over the soft fabric of her cotton pants.
“That’s the thing about life. You can’t go back, even when quasi-magical time capsules offer a little glimpse at the past.”
She saw his laugh more than heard it. “Where are you going next?” she asked. “After you leave Echo Cove? Do you know?”
He turned his attention back to the fire. “I thought I’d stay in town as long as you’re here, in case you need more help on the house.”
“My parents gave me their blessing to leave. The agent can handle the rest of the showings—assuming this weekend’s hurricane doesn’t wipe the house off the earth.” She was making light of it, but Hurricane Bill was still a major worry in her mind. She also still believed that checking off their bucket list would somehow change the storm’s path. Or at least lessen its impact.
“If it does cause damage, you’ve got a handyman you can call. I’ll rebuild the house from scratch if I have to.”
Lyla studied his side profile, believing him. “I don’t recall you being this charming when we were younger.”
He offered a dry, humorless chuckle. “I definitely wasn’t. I would say I was a bit of a jerk back then. A guy has to be a jerk to put fake snakes in a woman’s mailbox.”
“I don’t think so. You may have been a prankster, but your pranks were never mean-spirited. You were always just having fun and never at anyone’s expense. At least not intentionally.”
“You were always good at making me feel like I was a good person,” he said quietly.
“That’s because you are. Anyone who made you feel less . . .” She trailed off, knowing exactly who had made Travis feel small and insignificant.
“Where are you going after this weekend?” he asked. “Now that you’re free to leave.”
She’d wondered that same question. “I’m not sure. I don’t have anything back in the town where I was. I’m kind of lost right now.”
“What about Echo Cove? You could stay.”
She breathed a laugh. “I’d feel like a total failure. Coming back home with my tail between my legs.”
“You worry about others’ opinions too much, Ly. Even in your column, it’s more about what others think than you.”
Was that true? “They’re my opinions.”
“But you write them based on what you predict other people will respond to. Who cares what others think?”
“I do, I guess. I have to in order to make a living.” It was important now that she was single.
“You used to want to be an author, if I remember correctly. What happened to that?” he asked.
It was true. That had been her dream once upon a time. Then she’d written that one-hundred-page story. She’d poured her very writer’s soul into that manuscript and the editor who’d responded had pulverized that soul. It wasn’t easy for a person to put themselves out there for anything one cared about. Maybe that’s why she hadn’t responded to Travis either. “Do you know how hard it is to get your book published and shelved at an actual bookstore?”
“I doubt it’s as hard as getting a national opinion column in your name,” he responded.
Touché. “True . . . and also not true. I don’t know. I guess I realized that writing an actual book that can be found at the library was a pipedream. No one would read it.”
“I would.”
She looked at him for a long moment. Her story had been good. She thought so, at least. Maybe she could rewrite it now that she was an adult. “Perhaps that’s still in my future. What about your dream?”
He lifted a brow, looking surprised. “I had a dream?”
“Yeah. You wanted to be a world-famous guitarist, remember?”
“Oh, right.” This made Travis chuckle. “Now that is what you call a pipedream. I still play guitar, but I have no desire or need to be famous. In fact, fame is conditional, and I grew up in a conditional household. I’m happy being free. I love what I do, and I think I’m good at it. There are things that could make me happier, but no man can have everything, right?”
The way he was looking at her made her wonder if she was one of those things that could make him happy. There goes your overactive imagination again, Lyla. “Right.”
“So, are you going to write your great American novel?” he asked.
“Right after I jump off the Pirate’s Plank,” she said sarcastically.
“I’m being serious.”
“So am I. I’ve started and stopped lots of stories. Then I convince myself they’re silly or a waste of time.”
“Don’t listen to those voices. They’re lying to you.”
“Well, one of those voices was my ex’s. He got a hold of one of my stories—Okay, truthfully, I left it out for him to see. I guess I wanted confirmation that it was good.”
Travis looked disappointed on her behalf. “He didn’t give you that confirmation?”
“Just the opposite. He confirmed that I should stick to my day job.” She laughed dryly, but the memory ached inside her.
“This is the same guy who thought it was a good idea to let you go. He’s an idiot. Not an opinion. Fact.”
Some part of Lyla needed to hear that. Her ex was a lot of negative things, but he also had good qualities. She never would have dated him if he didn’t. He was intelligent, and if he thought her work wasn’t good enough, maybe he was right. “He was an idiot for sure, but I’m still guessing the book was pretty bad.”
“You know what I think?”
She braced herself, even though, deep down, she knew Travis would never intentionally hurt her. “What?”
“It probably was bad. It was probably horrible.”
Everything inside of Lyla stilled. Okay. Maybe she was wrong about Travis never hurting her.
He held up a finger. “It’s like when I learn a new song on my guitar. It’s rough. But I play it again, I work on the notes, I polish it. Perfect it. The first draft is crap. It’s horrible. And that’s okay. The music doesn’t happen until the twentieth draft or the one hundredth. If I had read those chapters of yours, I would have seen the potential instead of the mistakes.”
“You’re a good guy, you know that?” And from her experience, most of the good guys, the kind that didn’t break hearts, were spoken for. “Why are you single?”
His eyes narrowed just slightly. “You know why, Ly.”
“By choice,” she said.
“I live my life a certain way, so yeah, it’s a choice. Just like tonight, I choose to be with you.”
Without thinking, she reached for his hand. “And I choose to be with you. Obviously.”
“Well, you do have a broken toe. Maybe you’re just here because you can’t leave.” His fingers wrapped around hers.
“That’s not the case.” She looked away for a moment, inspecting the nature around them. “There was a bonfire that you and I made that last summer together. Kind of like this one. I remember it because I felt kind of the way I do now.”
“Oh?” He leaned toward her in his chair. “How is that?”
Looking at him again, she gave herself full permission to say exactly what she was thinking. “Like I wanted to kiss you, but I didn’t know how to get you to kiss me first.”
“Hmm. I know how you can make that happen tonight. Just come a little closer.”
She leaned his way.
Like magnets, each drawn to the other, closer, until finally, their lips touched. Lyla opened her mouth against Travis’s. The kiss was slow. It evolved from something sweet to something needy as Travis tugged her toward him. Her toe didn’t hurt anymore. She didn’t even feel it. All she felt was a thick desire pulsing through her.
“Remember the other night when you said you wanted to spend the night with me?” He pulled back and searched her eyes.
“Yeah.” He’d turned her down, feeding her a list of reasons that may or may not have been true.
“I want that tonight. If you still want it. If you don’t, I’ll drive you—”
She stopped his talking with another kiss before pulling back and looking at him. She’d only wanted a kiss that summer. A kiss would have been enough to make her teenage dreams come true. But tonight, she wanted more. So much more. “It’s been a while since I’ve been with someone. I might not be . . .”
Travis narrowed his eyes. “You’ll be amazing, and I would guess that just like polishing those chapters or me working on a new song, you’ll only get better with practice.”
“Practice, huh?” She grinned back at him.
He chuckled and kissed her lips. Then he took on a serious expression. “Are you sure about this? Because you can change your mind. We have something special, Ly. We’ve always had. If we do this, I don’t want it to ruin how we feel about each other.”
She couldn’t see how it would ruin how she felt about Travis, but maybe that’s because her hormones were doing the happy dance right now. “I’m sure.”
Travis nodded. Then he got up and scooped her up in his arms.
“What are you doing?” she said on a nervous laugh.
“I don’t want you to reinjure that toe on the way to my bed. I plan to make you feel so good that you’ll never doubt yourself again.”
Lyla knew it was just a line, but she felt it all the way to her core. If one kiss with Travis had inspired her to write the article for her boss, maybe sleeping together would inspire her to actually go write that great American novel after all. Anything was possible, especially on a magical summer night such as this.
Lyla’s legs were jellylike as she made her way to the Pirate’s Plank in her dream. Fear gripped her and she felt like one of the little fish that she and her father used to catch and release on their father-daughter fishing dates.
Her steps were slow and hesitant as she looked out upon all the people in the water. There was Bernie. She liked Bernie, and she wanted to be friends.
Lyla stepped up to the plank. There was a person behind her, waiting impatiently to jump in. Lyla was taking too long. She could feel it and with each passing second, more eyes turned in her direction.
She sucked in a breath, pulling it into the deepest recesses of her lungs.
Someone laughed. Another pointed. Lyla’s breaths came out shallower. She felt hot. Perspiration rolled down her temple. As she went to swipe it away, her vision went black and the lake and the noise disappeared.
Lyla shot up in bed, her breathing labored and heavy. A hand reached for her, and Lyla screamed softly until she realized it was only Travis.
“You okay?” he asked.
Her mind rushed to process the current scene. She was in Travis’s RV and— Oh, wow. She and Travis had done things last night that crossed every line between two friends. “I—I, um, I was dreaming.”
“Same dream as last time?”
“Yeah.” She hurriedly began to collect her clothing, which was not on her body. Instead, it was strewn about on the floor and at the end of the bed.
Travis’s hand gently caressed her back. “What are you doing?”
“Getting dressed. I have to go.”
“We haven’t even had coffee yet.”
Lyla paused for a moment to look at him. She was in panic mode, not just because she’d been falling in her dream, but because this was Travis. She could legit fall in real life, and after a year of trying to get her feet back underneath her, that was the last thing she needed. “I need to go home. For all I know the ceiling is leaking, pipes have burst, and the living room is a swimming pool.”
Travis seemed to accept this rationale. “I’ll drive you.”
He’d driven her here, so she couldn’t refuse the ride, although she probably would have if there was any other option. She needed space and time to think. Her head was spinning.
Travis stood and collected his clothes as well.
Lyla couldn’t help watching him for a moment. Yeah, she could fall for him. She could fall, hit the water, and sink like a stone. Nausea rolled through her body. What have I done? Travis didn’t live in Echo Cove, and neither did she. He could move on tomorrow and leave her feeling broken the way she’d been after Joe’s betrayal. She’d barely climbed out of bed and only when she had to. All the joy had drained out of her, and no matter how hard she tried to find a glimmer, it was gone for a long time.
Sliding her feet into her shoes, Lyla reminded herself to breathe as she headed toward the front of the RV, stopping when Travis tugged on her arm.
“About last night,” he said quietly.
She shook her head quickly, bracing for impact as tears burned her eyes. “We don’t have to talk about it.”
“I’m not sorry.” He looked at her expectantly, his brown eyes moving back and forth, searching hers as he waited for her to say the same.
Was she sorry? “I, um, well . . .”
As the seconds passed, hurt crossed over Travis’s expression, dimming the light behind his eyes. He seemed to subtly deflate, his lips turning downward.
“It doesn’t change anything,” she said finally, thinking that was what he wanted to hear.
If anything, his look of hurt visibly deepened. “Of course, it doesn’t. I’ll take you home now.”
The drive to Lyla’s parents’ house was quiet. She knew she’d said the wrong thing, but what was the right thing to say after having sex with your childhood best friend? It was usually the guy who said the wrong thing, or maybe that was a lie that all the romantic comedies she’d grown up watching fed her. Those types of movies had spoiled her into believing that love would save the day, and that once she met the one —another lie—her life would be perfect.
Travis pulled into her driveway and parked. He didn’t move to get out and walk her to the door.
“Thanks for the drive. And, um, for last night,” she said.
“Thanks?” His brows twitched as he looked at her. “Wow. Okay. You’re welcome, Ly. Glad I could be of service.”
She couldn’t say anything right at this moment. She had no idea what he needed to hear from her. “What do you want from me?”
He looked straight ahead, staring out the windshield. “Nothing. I’m here for all your needs. Just like my business card says.”
All she’d said was thank you. “That’s not what I meant.”
“Could have fooled me,” he muttered.
“Travis, come on.”
He wrapped his fingers around the steering wheel tightly. “I have a job to get to, Ly. And you have possible disasters to avert.” He was talking about her house, but maybe he was referring to himself as a disaster too.
She felt like she should backtrack and apologize for how she’d acted this morning, but she wasn’t sure she’d done anything wrong. What else could she have said? He didn’t regret anything, but she did? Or she should. Conflicted and shell-shocked, she pushed the truck door open. “I’ll text you.”
“Sure.” He nodded but didn’t look at her.
Lyla felt like a criminal as she made her way up the porch steps and let herself inside the house, heading straight to her bedroom.
Maybe Travis had actual feelings for her too.
Unsure of what else to do, she pulled out her phone to text the only person who would understand her right now.
Lyla: I spent the night with Travis.
Allison immediately texted back.
Allison: Ummm, on his couch?
Lyla: Nope.
Allison: I’ll be there stat. You’re home?
Home ? The word was foreign to Lyla right now.
Lyla: Yeah, my parents’ house. Bring caffeine and sugar.
Allison: You got it!