34. Libby
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
libby
“Why can’t I come? I’ve never been to Boston.” Sutton gives me the saddest puppy dog eyes.
Guilt consumes me. We’re sitting on the edge of the porch, legs dangling, waiting for Fisher to gather supplies for Bing.
Wilder is keeping him while we’re gone, and Sutton will stay with Mrs. K.
Fisher is adamant that just the two of us go to Boston.
He didn’t tell me why, and I’m too afraid to ask.
I’m too afraid to push him when it comes to her.
I may be his girlfriend, but she’s his entire world.
If he’s drawn a hard line anywhere, it has to do with her.
“I’ll talk to Fisher about bringing you next time.”
Sutton rolls her eyes and drops her head back. “Yeah, right. He’s never once taken me to Boston.”
I frown at her. Really? He lived in Boston before his brother passed away, yet he’s never taken her there to visit? He’s never wanted to experience the sights with her? Or just get off the island?
“Nope.”
Maybe he doesn’t want her to see what he left behind. Doesn’t want her to feel any kind of guilt over what he gave up to raise her. I get that, I guess.
Sutton scoots closer to the edge, swinging her feet and kicking up gravel. “Can I tell you something?”
“Anything. Always.” I set my hand on top of hers and squeeze.
She sucks in a breath, and when she exhales, words escape along with the breath, as if she’s been keeping them in for a while.
“I don’t want to live here anymore. I want to meet more kids.
Make friends. I want to live on land. The winter here is so dark.
It’s cold and lonely. And Fisher hates it. I know he does. He won’t say it?—”
“He doesn’t say much,” I interrupt.
She nods, her shoulders falling like the weight of all her thoughts is too heavy for her little shoulders. My poor sweet girl is being crushed by this secret.
“Sutton.” I shift so I’m facing her and wait for her to look me in the eye. “There is not a single thing that Fisher wouldn’t do for you if you told him you were unhappy.”
She shakes her head. “Anything but this. I think he wants to stay because of my parents.”
I nod. She’s right. But Fisher would be devastated if he found out she feels this way but is afraid to tell him. “I could talk?—”
“Please don’t.” She grasps my arm tightly, her nails digging into my skin.
I place a hand over hers, uncurling her tiny fingers.
Sheepishly, she looks at me, realizing I’ve got scratches from her wild nails.
“I won’t say a word. I promise. But you should. Tell him your truth. If there’s anyone in the world who would move heaven and earth for you, it’s him.”
Her small body relaxes a fraction. “Maybe,” she says softly.
I fight the urge to sigh. She won’t tell him. And I won’t betray her trust. But maybe I can find a way to get Fisher to figure it out on his own. Looks like I’ve got my work cut out for me this weekend.
The porch creaks as Fisher steps outside. “Ready to head to Mrs. K’s?”
Sutton throws her arms around me. “Promise you’ll come back?” she whispers.
Behind her, Fisher eyes us cautiously.
I force a smile and press a kiss to her hair. “Of course, pretty girl. We’ll be back in two days.”
Sighing, she pulls back. Then she hops off the porch and heads to the truck without looking back.
“She okay?” he asks, his attention trained on her back.
I nod, lips pressed together. This is the first time I’ve lied to him. I don’t like it. That means I have to get these two to be honest with one another, and soon.
Two hours later, Fisher picks up both our bags in one hand—my pink carry-on and his dark green canvas weekender—then holds his hand out to me. “It’s only a few blocks. You okay to walk, or do you want me to grab the car and come back and get you?”
I pause, frowning. “Grab what car? Did you rent one?”
Fisher wiggles his fingers, reminding me that he’s waiting, and I slide my palm against his.
“Nah,” he says, guiding me toward the street. “My Range Rover is here.”
I pull up short. “Your what?”
He glares at where my feet are firmly planted. I’m not moving until I get answers.
“My truck. It’s a Range Rover. Ever heard of it?”
I roll my eyes. “Of course I’ve heard of it. I’m just wondering why you have a Range Rover here when you live there ?” I throw a thumb over my shoulder, gesturing to the island so far out it can’t even be seen on the clearest of days, which today is not.
“Can’t bring it there,” he grumbles, as if that actually answers my question.
He tugs on my hand, and I allow him to steer me through the droves of people swarming the small town.
Sutton and I explored the town the last time we were here, so I know there’s a small boutique just up the hill, nestled between tourist shops.
In every window, T-shirts and hats emblazoned with puffins and lobsters are on display.
Plush versions of the creatures are easy to come by, and we even found Lego sets.
I was tempted to buy the puffin set, but figured the boat was a big enough purchase.
I’ll save that one for another day. Maybe on our way back to the island.
As we round the street corner and start toward a hill, Fisher slows down a bit so we’re walking side by side. “Are you ready for the audition?”
No. Yes. Maybe? With a sigh, I settle on “I don’t know.” Nerves skitter through me like they do every time I think about the upcoming audition. “I took voice lessons as a kid, but once I got my first movie role, that kind of fell to the wayside.”
“You sing in the shower,” he says with a smile.
“Oh, are you standing outside the bathroom and listening? That’s a little stalkery, Hacker.”
He lifts one shoulder. “I like watching you.”
Eyes wide, I scoff. “Fisher Jones, do you have a camera in your bathroom?”
Fisher chuckles. “Nah, just yours.”
I pull my arm back and hit him in the shoulder.
“I’m kidding, I’m kidding. It’s aimed at the side of the house, but if you don’t close the blinds…” He waggles his brows.
I hit him again. We’re both laughing when we reach the parking lot. There are about a dozen cars here. Halfway across the lot, he releases my hand and pulls a fob from his pocket. When he taps it, the lights of a hunter green Range Rover in the back flash.
Though he continues on, I stop and turn in a slow circle, looking for the parking lot attendant.
“What are you doing?” he asks as he holds the door open.
“Isn’t there someone you need to talk to?”
“Talk to?”
“Ya know, to pay? Or to tell them you’re taking the car?”
Fisher frowns. “You want me to report to a stranger that I’m taking my own car?”
Well, when he says it like that… “Fine, but isn’t there an attendant? How do all these people pay?” I ask, scanning the other cars.
“There’s a box over there. We put ten bucks into an envelope, write our license plate number on the outside, and drop it through the slot.” When I still don’t move, he sighs and tosses the bags in the back seat. “What?”
I shake my head. “People in Maine must be so much nicer than people in LA.”
With a shake of his head, he snags my arm and guides me to the passenger door. He hovers until I’m buckled, one brow cocked. “Maybe, Princess. Though I’m pretty fond of this one girl from LA.”
“Yeah?” I beam up at him.
Smirking, he bends down to kiss me. “Yeah.”
“Explain this to me again,” I ask an hour later as we’re hitting Boston traffic. “You won a bet by hacking into the Revs’ firewall, and your prize was tickets to tonight’s game?”
Fisher nods. “That about sums it up.”
I shake my head. And people say Hollywood is strange.
“Want to go to my apartment first and drop off our stuff, or should we grab an early dinner before the game?”
“Let’s go to the game.” I lace my fingers in my lap. “Once I get you alone in your apartment, I probably won’t want to leave.”
His brows lift, along with one side of his mouth. “I wouldn’t mind that, Princess.”
Warmth pools in my belly at the thought. “It’s been a long time since I went to a baseball game. And you love the Revs.”
He hums, not taking his eyes off the traffic. “How do you know that?”
“You wear a Revs hat just about every day.”
“I like you more.” He winks at me as he presses on the gas. “I could wear you on my cock instead.”
Head dropped back, I cackle, and the rest of my nerves fall away.