Chapter 8
IVY
T he drive from Seattle to Aspen Ridge will take me almost four hours at this point. I wish I could blame the traffic, and I could until I got out of the city, but there are so many scenic lookout points that I have to keep pulling over to marvel at them. Sure, on some clear days we get an amazing view of Mount Rainier, and I love it when my mountain comes out and shows off. But this? Snow-tipped mountains in the distance cast a magnificent shadow over the lush forest below them, the crystal lakes spread out at their feet. Overcast days like today are my favorite, when everything is blanketed in cloud cover and a light mist travels along in the breeze. It’s enchanting and mystical and I forgot how much it gave me life. These scenic views that Washington holds have so much beauty that it takes your breath away. I have to ask myself how I ever lived in a city. I’m sure it aided in my lack of thriving there.
I stocked up on my favorite snack food and have been blaring the music to pass the time. As I reach into the bag of Chex Mix, I sigh in frustration as I only pull out rye chips, having done all I could to pick around them without Zoe here. I hit the speed dial on my phone to call her.
“Are you there yet?” Her chirpy tone fills the car, bringing a huge smile to my face.
“I miss you already, ZoZo!” I whine.
“The rye chips are in your way aren’t they?”
She knows me so well.
“Ugh. Yes. And I’m driving and I can’t pick around them anymore. They’re so gross. I honestly don’t know how you love those things.”
“Can’t help ya, babe. Maybe you should just start eating them like a normal person?”
“Nope. Can’t do it.”
“Can’t or won’t?”
“Both.”
“How far out are you? You’ve got to be getting close, right?”
“Uhm. GPS says another hour. I’ll text you when I get there.”
“K. Drive safe.”
“Love you.”
My belly is full of butterflies as it hits me that I’m almost to Aspen Ridge. The nervous ones, not the fluttery excited ones. I can’t believe I’m really driving back to my hometown. I’m fine until I think about it, then I start to feel so anxious that I could throw up. The butterflies quickly change to an angry swarm of hornets as an overwhelming terror starts to take root at the prospect of running into people that I used to know. The people that I used to love and never said goodbye to. That self-loathing part of my brain creeps in and tells me that I wasn’t all that memorable to begin with and they’ve all moved on with their lives just fine without me present.
I know I’m overthinking all of it, but why would they welcome back someone who caused harm to their loved ones? Again, the negative thoughts balance the optimistic ones. Maybe I didn’t cause any harm at all. Maybe I did everyone a favor by leaving. And by everyone, I mean one boy in particular. Maybe he felt trapped by me and is much better off without having to focus on me like he always had. My thoughts and feelings war with themselves for the rest of the trip until I take the exit for my hometown.
Aspen Ridge is a small town that hides away west of Olympic National Forest. Tucked away and hidden from the rest of the world, it’s a gem if you love the outdoors, nosey neighbors, and one restaurant option. The air is different here. Cleaner. Fresher. It makes your body hum with liveliness, but also coats you in a comfortable peace. I blame the constant cloud cover that blankets it, the mountains that cocoon it, and the coast it backs up to.
I pull the Boston Bruins hat down that I impulsively stole from Zoe in hopes of looking more like an out-of-towner, and sink deeper into the driver’s seat as I slow my speed and approach downtown. I use the term downtown loosely. It’s a two-lane road with brick buildings lining the street on cobblestone sidewalks. Beautiful flower baskets hang from every streetlamp, shop windows are decorated with lively displays. I can’t help but wonder if Ms. Nettie still sits outside of her coffee shop and reports speeders to the police station. Bean Haven made the best apple cinnamon muffins and my mouth waters at the thought of them. They were my favorite thing on earth. I tried to recreate them on more than one occasion, but could never get the recipe perfect. I keep my head low, maintain my speed, and pass through the strip unscathed. I release the breath I was holding and continue to drive to the other side of town.
Pulling onto Lupine Lane, a long gravel drive that leads to a small cul-de-sac, I easily navigate toward my childhood home on autopilot. My hands shake as I drive down the long dirt road and pull into the driveway of the old house, overwhelmed with nostalgia.
And not the good kind.
Rather, nightmares that escaped from the depths of hell to haunt me.
Memories that I’ve long since buried.
Even though I haven’t returned to this place since I was a teenager, somehow it’s managed to remain the same, only older. The cul-de-sac still sits with one house on either side of the circle and miles of woods behind them both. The picket fence that frames the front yard is whitewashed and aging, the paint peeling and chipping away due to the changes in weather and neglect. The house is a large arts and crafts style home that’s usually found in this part of the Pacific Northwest. It’s simple but charming.
In an eerie kind of way.
I put my perfect beater of a jeep in park and take a moment to gather my thoughts.
It’s just a house.
It’s just a house.
It’s just a house.
It shouldn’t matter that it was really more like a cage.
Or that it’s the place where my mother spent my entire childhood depressed and alone, grieving the life she gave up and the love she never got in return.
Some days I wished that I had been enough for her. But I realize now that it’s hard to trade the life you dreamed of for yourself for something else and be grateful for it when what you have is actually all smoke and mirrors. She was okay giving up everything she wanted for herself to have a fairytale life with the man she fell in love with. But she didn’t have that. And it killed her long before the car accident did. My heart hurts at the reminder.
My phone buzzing in the seat next to me pulls me out of my head. I pick it up only to be greeted with my best friend’s face.
“Calm down, Zo. I literally just pulled into the damn driveway,” I say, not bothering with greetings.
“Babe, you should have called me the moment you arrived in that town! I worry about you.”
“I told you I was fine. I can do this.”
It’s just a house, I mutter to myself again. I climb out of my jeep, trying to balance my phone between my cheek and shoulder while simultaneously grabbing my purse to dig out the house keys the estate lawyer mailed to me. I look up at the aging house and really take it in.
Shit.
Was this place always this creepy looking? Walking up the rocky gravel entryway, I notice the wild lupines that grow in this part of Washington are still everywhere you look. Their vibrant blues, pinks, and purples breathe life into the otherwise dark landscape. Without them, this place would look like somewhere Hansel and Gretel would go to disappear deep in a haunted wood.
I approach the same yellow door that I had so many times before. What was once bright and cheery, masking the shitty memories inside, is now faded and chipping, much like the rest of the place, and matches the memories much better.
“Ivy! Are you even listening to me?” Zoe’s yell pulls me back into the present.
“Yeah. Of course I am. I’m just trying to get into the house with all my shit and talk to you at the same time. Calm yourself down, hussy.”
“Okay, so I’ve been thinking.”
“That’s never a good thing.”
“Hear me out, dammit.”
“Spill.”
“You need to find a hot fling while you’re there to help distract you from the crash and burn of your life. It would do you some damn good to be railed by some smoking fine piece of ass while you’re holed up selling that place. Your vagina probably doesn’t even work anymore.”
My mind flicks back to one man in particular that I’m positive I could get lost in.
The one man I’m avoiding.
The one man I don’t want to face.
I push the key into the lock, but it doesn’t click over. Lovely. It’s already unlocked. Fan-freaking-tastic.
The front door creaks and groans as I push it open and take my first steps into what is going to be home for the next few months. It’s eerie being here completely alone and my skin breaks out in goosebumps.
“Ivy Paige!”
“God, Zoe!” I practically yell. “My vagina is just fine, thank you for your concern.”
“They’ll need the jaws of life to pry you open for insertion, Iv. That thing hasn’t been entered in how long now? Shit-for-Brains and his needle dick don’t count.”
“My pink vibrating best friend has been getting the job done nicely, actually. Guaranteed orgasm, and who needs a man when I can get myself there without all the fuss? I’m not about to start complaining about the much easier cleanup either. And you know what? I don’t have to worry about being fucking cheated on by it,” I rant.
I drop my bags onto the tiled entryway floor and take in the large open area in front of me. Everything looks like it was left the same way my parents had it, but is covered in a thick layer of dust. I guess I inherited all the shit in this place too. Maybe I can pay someone a fee to have an estate sale for me to get the place emptied and more cash in my pocket.
I walk through the open entryway and into the expanse of the living room, looking over everything as I go. As I near the hallway that leads to the stairs, I find myself face to face with a very large, very muscular beast of a man heading my way.
I scream as I stumble back, dropping my phone in the process.
“Holy shit balls! What the fuck? Who are you? How did you get in here?”
Goddammit, the front door was unlocked. Fucking great. First moments back in this town and I’m going to die at the hands of Hottie Hulk here. And of course I dropped my phone. Christ, Ivy. Guess calling 911 isn’t a quick option, and it’s not like anyone on the outskirts of town will hear my screams while I’m butchered into tiny pieces or stuffed in a freezer for him to do god knows what to later. I should probably lay off the true crime shows. Going to need to dissect that later if I survive this.
“Are you okay? Jesus,” the beast says in the huskiest male voice I’ve ever heard. He holds his hands out, grabbing my forearms to help steady me.
“You’re not in danger.” He releases my arms and puts his in the air, palms facing me in the universal sign of surrender. That does nothing to curb my fear given that he is standing in my house.
In the dark.
Alone.
Even if it has been abandoned for a year and a half. Maybe he’s a squatter. Fuck. That’s probably it. Now I’ve got to figure out how to remove a sexy as fuck homeless squatter from my dead father’s nightmare shack and figure out where I’m going to sleep in this town without announcing that I’m back. I don’t know how yet, but I’m determined to stay way under everyone’s radar.
In and out. Fix it up, sell it, get on with my life.
“I asked you a question first, fucker. Now who are you and how did you get in here?” I back further into the main living space where there’s more light.
“Reid. I live next door. I check on things around here from time to time.”
“Suuuure you do. Right. And I’m Megan Fox. Who asked you to do that?”
“My parents. They knew the owner, Brian Turner. My dad handled his estate after he passed away. Now who are you? This place has been empty for well over a year.” His voice may be deep, but you can’t miss the softness in it.
Reid steps into the large living room and paces closer to me. Okay, so I was right about the beast thing. He has to be well over six feet and he’s packing some serious Khal Drogo muscles. Fucking. Hell. How?
His tan skin is covered in tattoos from his fingers and up both arms, disappearing under the pushed-up sleeves of a hoodie. It’s formfitting for a sweatshirt and leaves little to the imagination. He’s in amazing shape and I can’t help my mouth from falling open slightly while I gape at him.
Fucking hell is right. Where do men like him come from? They’re made in a lab, aren’t they? Surely they don’t come out looking like this perfect Greek god. I can’t imagine what his parents look like. Lawyer my ass. They have to be models. Or Olympus’ twelve descendants at a minimum.
I grasp my hands in front of my stomach and twist them together.
Focus, Ivy.
“Oh. Uh. Okay. That makes some sense. I wasn’t expecting anyone to be here. You scared the shit out of me,” I say, more than a little exasperated, unsure whether it’s from the fright of my life or the Adonis in my space.
“Sorry ’bout that. I wasn’t expecting you either. Total coincidence to be here at the same time. And as much as I was enjoying listening to you convince yourself that your, what did you call it? Your ‘pink vibrating best friend?’ was better than a man, I couldn’t stay here all day . . .” He pauses and slowly peruses my body from bottom to top before meeting my eyes again. “Unless you want me to convince you that you’re wrong?” he says with a smirk. “You still haven’t told me who you are.”
A nervous laugh escapes me. Is he seriously hitting on me right now? I’m suddenly self-conscious of my holey black leggings and baggy, oversized sweatshirt. I absentmindedly rub my hand through my hair and tuck it behind my ear. He has to be fucking with me. This kind of shit only happens to Zoe.
“Shit! Zoe!” Scurrying to pick up my phone, I’m greeted with a rainbow of expletives from my best friend’s colorful vocabulary.
“Zo, I’m fine. It’s okay. A neighbor is here and I was obviously expecting the house to be humanless.” I punctuate the last word and toss a glare at him.
“Are you sure? Should I call the police? Are you okay? You just scared the shit out of me, Ivy!”
“Breathe, psycho. I think I’m fine. I’ll call you tonight, I promise.” Hanging up the phone on my best friend, I return to find my muscular guest leaning up against the wall with a shit-eating grin on his face.
“Okay, Drogo. Here’s how this is going to go. I’m 1 and 0 for making men drop to the floor due to my knee to their balls this month and I’d happily make it 2 for 0. So, I’m going to ignore your witty remarks about being able to take over the job of my vibrator, not gonna happen. If you’re done here, I’m assuming you remember where the door is?” I make a shoo motion at him.
“Drogo, huh?”
My mouth drops open.
“That’s what you took from what I just said?” Fucking men.
He sets his eyes on me and takes a few steps forward as I match them to step back. We pace until I’m backed right against the wall. Fucking genius, Ivy. Because that’s exactly what you want to do when alone with a stranger. Become the victim!
Reid stops with us toe-to-toe and places a hand next to my head, semi-caging me in.
Holy hell.
His muscles flex next to me and I can’t help but look at the tattoos that run along his veiny forearm.
“How ’bout we start over, huh, sweetheart? Who are you?” he says in a husky whisper as he brushes some rogue hair out of my face and tucks it behind my ear. He’s standing so close that I can smell the mint gum he’s chewing, coupled with some clean and masculine goodness.
I take a steadying breath and chance looking up at this massive man crowding my space. His deep-green eyes meeting mine hitches my attempt at steady breathing. My god he is gorgeous. His long, dark chocolate-brown hair is secured in a low ponytail, pieces have come loose and fall into his face as he peers down at me. My pussy responds in kind by throbbing. I can feel the wetness pooling between my legs and I feel unsteady. Okay, so maybe it’s been a little too long since I’ve felt a man, even longer since I’ve been with one who knows what he’s doing. I hate to stereotype people, but damn does this man look like he knows exactly how to make a woman feel good.
“Alright, smooth talker.” I chuckle as I make mistake number three thousand in the last five minutes; placing my hands flat open on his chest in an attempt to push him away. I’m met with such solid male perfection that I don’t actually push him away at all. Instead, my traitorous bitch of a body decides that’s its cue to release an appreciative moan that unfortunately doesn’t go unnoticed by the beast crowding my personal space. I immediately retreat and place my hands behind me, dropping my gaze from his.
“Fuck. Tell me what I have to do to pull more sounds like that out of you,” he whispers as he places his fingers under my chin and forces my face to meet his again. My heart is about to beat out of my fucking chest. Is this happening right now? This can’t be seriously happening.
“Do we have to talk so close to each other?” I ask. His fingers are still lifting my chin, his thumb aimlessly rubbing back and forth.
“I’m rather enjoying it. But if space is what you want . . .” he says. Before releasing my chin, he cups my cheek, dwarfing it in his large hand and letting it drop as he takes a single step back. I immediately feel the loss of him.
“Better?”
“I mean, I can definitely think more clearly without you that close to me,” I huff. “Ivy. My name is Ivy,” I stutter like an idiot. His head rears back like I slapped him and his eyes squint as he cocks his head to the side and studies me.
“Ivy,” he repeats in a statement.
The way my name rolls off this man’s tongue just sounds too good. He drops his head more and shakes it slightly as if coming to a realization and he needs to pull himself together. I mean, I’m a goddamn stranger for fuck’s sake. Reel it in, buddy!
He mutters something under his breath that sounds like “of course” and takes a few large steps back from me.
“Ahh. The daughter. This is your place. That makes more sense.”
“How did you know that?”
“I told you, my father and his firm handled the estate. Since you never came to claim the place and I live next door, he asks me to check on it. I’m aware of who you are, Ivy. I just didn’t expect you.”
“Oh-Okay. Yes. You did say that. Sorry. I spoke to him last year after my parents passed.” My heart picks up pace and this time I know for certain it’s not because of hottie Reid in front of me. It’s fear of him telling anyone that I’m back in Aspen Ridge.
“As much as I’m enjoying this little meeting, I am sorry for scaring you. I really wasn’t expecting you. I stop by once a month to make sure everything is okay with the place. Make sure no teenagers are breaking in, that kinda thing.”
I take a moment to stare up at him. His eyes are still heavily lidded, but they look sincere and full of kindness. Maybe he’s telling the truth.
Maybe.
Possibly.
“Yeah. So, you’re right, I’m the daughter that inherited this place. I’ll be living on the property for a few months.”
“Just a few months?”
“Well . . . I plan to spend the time fixing up the place, I figured it would need some sprucing up, and then selling it so I can move back to . . . home.”
“Hmm,” is his only response.
“Hmm? What’s hmm?”
“I think you should keep the place.”
“Well. You don’t know me or what’s best for me so, sorry to tell ya, but your opinion is moot,” I say with a bit more attitude than intended.
He turns and heads for the front door. “We’ll see about that.”
Fear squeezes my heart again and has me moving after him. I reach out and grab his wrist, pulling him to a stop and demanding his attention. His eyebrows raise in question.
“Hey, uhm. I know we just met and all, but is there any chance that maybe you could keep it to yourself that I’m here?”
He stares into my eyes for several moments before he nods once and pulls away. I try to stay confident, but I know my face is giving the desperation and fear away.
“Enjoy the rest of your day, Ivy. I’ll be seeing you.”
Reid pulls the door shut behind him, leaving me alone with my head spinning as I slide down the wall until my bottom hits the hardwood floor. Bringing my knees up to my chest, I fold in on myself, my mind lost to the bizarre interaction and the fear of people finding out I’m here. Before I know it, the lonely memories that haunt this house invade me once again.
After having a mini pity party, I pull myself together, grab one of my bags, and head to my old room. The old, wood stairs creak and whine under the weight of each of my steps. I pass by my parents’ closed bedroom door and continue to the very end of the hallway. Opening my bedroom door, nostalgia slams into me. The large window at the end of the room casts shadows across the space that hasn’t changed since the day I left. A twin bed sits in the center, my desk across from it. I float over to the desk and look at the pushpin board hanging above it that I left filled with photos, running my fingertips across the faces of friends I left behind. Us at homecoming junior year, a Goo Goo Dolls concert we drove all the way to Emerald Queen Casino for, wearing wetsuits and learning to surf at Grace Beach. I pull a pin out of a photo and bring it closer. It’s me at senior prom. I’m wearing a deep-red gown that hugs me perfectly, my dark black hair in ringlets and half up, but it’s the boy next to me that I can’t look away from. I’m looking at the camera, a smile on my face, but he’s looking down at me like I’m the most perfect thing in the entire world. He’s wearing a black tux, his arm wrapped around my waist possessively. He was always possessive and brutally protective. Not in an abusive way, in a, “I know I’m the only one who’s ever loved and touched her” kind of way. I was his. Sawyer was my first and only love. The one person in the world who knew all of me and still loved me. From the time we met in the sixth grade he was convinced we would be together forever, and he reminded me of it every chance he could. No alternative existed for him.
Tapping my pencil aimlessly on my desk while I sit in Mrs. Pierce’s English 4 class and try to follow along with her lesson on The Tempest, my eyes linger for a moment on the closed classroom door. Sawyer stands in the hallway, off to the side of the window, and cocks his head to the side, ushering me to follow him. I hesitate only briefly before I raise my hand and ask for a hall pass to the girls’ bathroom. Once outside the classroom with the door pulled closed behind me, I look up and down the empty hallway to see that Sawyer is nowhere to be found. Chancing a solid guess at where he’s waiting, I walk the hallway until I’m forced to turn into the stairwell where his firm hand grabs my wrist, yanking me further in, and pushing me up against the wall.
“Hi, butterfly,” he whispers with a devilish smirk as his hands snake up my arms, shoulders, neck, and then find their home grasping my face. His thumb brushes lightly across my lower lip as he hums.
“Hi, Sawyer.”
“I’ve missed you, Iv. So much,” he whispers as he snuggles his face into my neck.
“You just saw me this morning, dork.”
“Don’t you know by now that even a minute without you is too long?”
“Mmhm. I missed you too, you know.”
“I know, baby.”
His eyes flicker back and forth between my lips and eyes as one of his hands presses into my waist, pushing me flush against the cold brick wall. Goosebumps break out over my body.
“Can I kiss you now?”
I nod my reply as his lips crash down on mine a split second later.
It goes from zero to sixty in hardly a moment. It’s always been this way between us. This tether exists that keeps us connected. His touch lights me up like fire. I couldn’t fight it if I tried.
His hand roams my waist until his fingertips meet my skin. He slides them under my shirt confidently, knowing I won’t push him away. His fingers tug gently on my navel ring before slipping around to my lower back, holding me close. His tongue meets mine in a tangle as we pull at each other to get closer, my hands grabbing fistfuls of his shirt, holding him hostage, never wanting this to end. I could do this forever and it would be all I need to make me happy for the rest of my life. I need him like I need air, like nothing else matters. I feel it in the depths of my bones. Our makeout session slows until our lips break apart. Sawyer continues to lean against my small frame and rests his forehead on mine.
“I love you, Ivy, don’t ever forget that.”
“I won’t. I love you too.”
Needing to clear my mind, I do the same thing I’ve done the majority of my life when the pressure gets to be too heavy. I change into a pair of running leggings, throw on my favorite sweatshirt, pull on my hat, and lace up my shoes. Here’s to hoping no one recognizes me.
I head outside as dark clouds move across the sky and block the sun’s warm rays. I take a deep breath of fresh air and risk a glance over at Reid’s house. He’s jogging down the path in gym shorts and an athletic shirt that clings to his ripped body like a second skin, carrying a sweatshirt in his hand.
You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. Turns out luck really isn’t on my fucking side lately. Did I kill a fairy?
Maybe I should burn some sage.
Hire a priest.
Toss some salt over my shoulder.
Buy some crystals.
I clearly need to get straight with the universe, ’cause she is continuing to bring her wrath to my doorstep.
“Really?” I dramatically ask the sky.
“I was thinking the same thing,” his gruff voice grates on me.
“I see your body looks exactly as I expected it to, Drogo. Jesus. I need to know, you were made in a lab right?” I motion my hand up and down his body.
“What?” His eyebrows arch in question.
“Never mind. You’re a runner?”
“Yup. Stress reliever.”
“Ugh. Annoying. Same.”
“Well, we can go our separate ways here or we can both be adults and just go for a run. I can go at a slower pace if you want to run together.”
I can’t tell if he’s just trying to rile me up or if he’s being serious. I’m going to go with the latter.
“Really. Wow. What kind of backhanded suggestion is that? And what are you trying to say? Just because I’m a woman I can’t keep up with your masculine pace? Fuck you, buddy. I’ve been running my entire life by myself. I don’t need you now.”
“Easy there, sweetheart. I was saying it because you’re a tiny little thing and I’m . . .” He repeats my earlier hand motion up and down his body. “My strides are longer. But by all means, let’s go. Show me what you’ve got.”
I give him a dramatic eye roll as he throws on his hoodie and stretches his legs.
We take off and he lets me set our pace for the first mile. I keep my head down and my hat low as we wind our way out of the long gravel lane. Luckily, my parents’ house sits near the border of Aspen Ridge, away from other houses, and not remotely close to the downtown area.
“So, Daddy’s a lawyer, huh? What is it that you do, Drogo?”
“That’s right. He has his own firm in the city. I’m a bit of a disappointment to him, though. I’m actually a tattoo artist.”
“Wow. I didn’t expect that, but now that I know, it fits. Did you do any of your own tattoos?”
“Interesting question. But yeah. Practiced a bit on my leg when I was an apprentice and then once I got good I did the design on my left wrist. It’s more difficult. And I appreciate others’ work, so the rest have been done by other artists. You got any?”
I can’t help the grin that spreads across my face. “Nope. Virgin skin,” I say just to taunt him.
“Fucking hell, Ivy,” he groans. “Let me know if you’d like to give me that privilege, I’d be more than happy to be your first.”
“Is that right?”
“Mmm,” is all he responds with. “So, what about you? What do you do?”
Nope. Not going there. I should have known better than to ask questions and not expect them in return.
“How’d you end up in Aspen Ridge?”
He chuckles, clearly amused by my lack of clever avoidance. He hesitates on his answer, thinking it through.
“Uh, an ex-girlfriend actually. Didn’t work out.”
“Ahh. Sorry.”
Lies. He just pulled that out of his ass. He has a story, but I don’t want to dig further and give him an opening to do the same.
We continue in silence for a few more blocks and before we reach the town I turn to jog down the trail that leads to Grace Beach without much thought. My body relies on muscle memory and takes me exactly where it needs to go. After a mile of woodsy terrain, the trees open up to the rocky coastline. I jog over the driftwood and rock-covered shore, pebbles and sea glass crunching under my sneakers until I’m standing right in front of the violent crashing waves. The little beach sits on the rocky, coastal edge of Aspen Ridge, nestled by large Sitka spruce trees.
Surprisingly, our town was named after the founding family, not Aspen trees.
Thick fog hides most of the rock formations that rest out in the water by themselves. Clouds cover the beach, casting a gray, moody feeling that has always whispered promises of peace and tranquility to me. I feel the first drops of rain touch my body in a welcoming caress. This. This is what coming home is supposed to feel like. For the first time in many, many years, I feel safe and whole. I take a deep breath of the fresh salty air, filling my lungs with the crispness that is so specific to this very spot. This tiny part of the world was always my safe place, the one place on earth where the rawness is pulled from me, unforgiving and ruthless, much like the waves of the ocean in front of me. My heart rate steadily increases until it’s pounding against my ribcage and all of the tension and stress I’ve been carrying courses through my bloodstream at once, adrenaline slamming into me with a force so hard I stagger on my feet. I lean against a large piece of driftwood, the cold, rough bark against my palm doing nothing to ground me. I’m consumed with all of the emotions I’ve kept locked up. For so long I’ve had to be strong and independent. I’ve kept it all hidden behind thick walls because it was my only option. I’ve done everything I was supposed to do, only to end up right back here.
I watch the waves rise and crash as emotions and unwanted thoughts wreak havoc on my body. My head tilts back to face the dreary skies as the clouds open up and rain crashes down.
I break.
A bloodcurdling scream rips from my throat as I fist my hands tightly, my nails breaking the skin on the inside of my hand. “Fuuuuuuuuuck!”
My body collapses onto the rocky shore and I pull my knees up to my chest. The tears cascade down my cheeks, mixing with the rain. “Goddammit!” I yell to no one in particular. My heart shatters and I can’t control the tears now that they’ve started. The waves of sadness and anger crash over me.
Lost in my turmoil, I don’t notice my running companion sit next to me and cocoon me in his large arms, pulling me effortlessly into his lap.“Hey, hey. Shhh. It’s okay. Whatever it is. It’s okay.”
I want to recoil from his hold and take a seat next to him, but my body sinks into his instead, needing comfort, no matter how foreign it feels. He wraps his arms around me in a reassuring hold and I breathe him in. He smells of sweat, salt air, and cedar.
“Shh. I promise, you’re okay.” Reid rubs one of his hands up and down my back as he lulls me in a soothing tone. I haven’t been held like this in so long, and it adds to the ache in my chest.
The rain slows to a steady drizzle while Reid holds me on the damp beach ground, surrounded by nothing but the Sitka trees and the ocean. The waves continue to crash, water lapping at the shoreline in front of us. I work to steady my breathing and wait for my tears to dissipate, along with my anger, disappointment, and sadness.
“Thank you,” I whisper as I sniffle through my breakdown.
“You don’t have to thank me, sweetheart. Glad I was here. No one should be alone when they’re this upset.”
Unsure of what to say in return, I sit in silence while he half holds me until my tears run completely dry and I feel like I have more control over myself.
“Will you tell me what’s wrong? I hate to see anyone cry.”
I lean back to study him for a moment. He is such an enigma. This huge, tattooed, burly man is so soft and tender. He hasn’t shown me anything but kindness.
I take a few cleansing breaths and dry my face on the sleeve of my sweatshirt, even though the rain makes the effort futile. He waits patiently for me to talk, and I realize he’s not expecting me to at all.
“I equally loathe and love this place. I haven’t been back since I left here at eighteen. I had a really hard time at home, didn’t have the best parents, and emotions weren’t really tolerated. This beach was my safe place and I’d always let it all out here and feel better. I guess my body just knew I was safe, and after holding my shit together for the last ten years, I needed the release.” Reid just looks at me and lets me talk. He’s so patient and easygoing, I decide to give him just a little more.
“I’ve been too scared to ever come back here. To Aspen Ridge, I think. But . . . my life went to total shit and I had no other options. So here I am, back at the beginning and starting over with absolutely nothing to show for the time I was away. I don’t belong anywhere. I’ve been walking aimlessly through a life I never wanted and now I’m back and I don’t even have anything here, either.”
“I’m sorry. For whatever caused you pain, Ivy. But everything will be okay. You need to believe that.”
“I don’t know about that. But thanks. I’m glad I ran into you and not anyone else. I don’t know how I’m going to live in this town and not face everyone.”
“I haven’t lived here nearly as long as the rest of the people, but not much seems to change. I’m sure everyone will welcome you back just fine and be happy to see you again.”
I let the silence stretch between us before whispering so low that I’m not sure he even heard it.
“Not everyone.”