Chapter 34
Ioverslept. I realize it as soon as my eyes open. It’s too loud downstairs.
Shit, is my second thought.
This was not the morning to sleep in. This was the morning to get up early, exercise Elle’s dog for her, and be waiting with a cup of coffee when she got up.
I scramble out of bed, using the bathroom and then getting dressed as fast as humanly possible. I’m already on my way toward the stairs when I remember to swerve back around and head to my room where I slept last night. There’s a bed shortage tonight with all the extra guests Keira and Tucker invited. Reese and Knox are taking my room tonight.
I move my stuff to the small office down the hall, then finally make it downstairs.
“Morning, man,” Tuck greets. He’s standing at the stove, flipping bacon.
“Hey, sleepyhead,” Mario, one of the guys from Tuck’s crew, calls from his spot at the kitchen table.
Bowen, one of the painters, is seated across from him. Tucker invited every guy who works for him, but they were the only two—aside from me—who accepted.
“You sleep this late every morning you have off?” Mario grins before refocusing on his breakfast.
I roll my eyes as I help myself to some of the coffee that’s been brewed.
There’s just four of us in the kitchen, but there’s a huge crowd gathered out on the deck. I recognize about half of them—Keira, Ophelia, Avery, and Juliet. Elle.
“Full house,” I comment to Tuck between long sips of coffee. I still feel tired despite sleeping in. Groggy, like I just woke up from hibernation.
“Yep,” he replies. “Dinner should be a lot noisier tonight.”
I know exactly what he’s referring to. “Long day. I was tired.”
Elle and I did not make the greatest of dinner companions last night. As soon as we got back from the pharmacy, she headed upstairs for a few minutes. Tucker and Keira carried the dinner conversation, mostly talking to each other with limited input from us.
“Don’t bullshit me, Ry. If you don’t want to talk about it, just say so.”
I lean back against the marble counter. I do want to talk to him. Advice is something I desperately need.
No matter what I do, I mess up.
Removing myself from Elle’s life felt like the only option after I was arrested. If we saw each other after I was released—which felt like a big if at the time—I assumed she’d be happy. Figured I’d be so far in her past that she’d barely remember me. Hardly recognize me.
She wasn’t supposed to remember or care. She wasn’t supposed to visit my mom or bond with my brother.
She wasn’t supposed to spray me with a hose. To call me in the middle of the night like she just wanted to hear my voice. To blush when I look at her or smile the same way she used to. To kiss me back last night like she needed my lips more than oxygen. To moan my name like she wanted my dick, not just sex.
It’s all messing with my head. Making me wonder if there’s a chance I do have something to offer her.
I can’t seem to get it right though, always saying or doing the wrong thing. Good intentions have gotten me nowhere.
Before I can figure out how to share any of that with Tucker, the doorbell rings, echoing through the house.
“Mind answering that?” Tuck asks me, ripping open another package of bacon.
I shake my head, shoving away from the counter and heading for the entryway.
Reese is standing on the front porch, a suitcase on one side and Knox on her other, her eyes huge as she looks around. “I thought we had the wrong address.”
I grin. “Crazy, right? Tuck invited me to a cottage the first time he mentioned this place. I thought we’d end up at some shack five miles from the water.”
Reese shakes her head. “Ones.”
“Here, let me take that.” I reach for her suitcase’s handle. “Tuck said he was picking you guys up later.”
“Knox woke up early, so we decided to take an earlier ferry,” Reese explains, stepping inside. Her eyes widen even more, taking in the central staircase and the expensive furnishings.
“Hey, Knox.” I hold out a fist, and he knocks knuckles with me. “Good to see you, buddy.”
“Did you bring the football?” he asks eagerly.
“I sure did,” I reply. “It’s upstairs.”
I’ve spent a handful of evenings at Reese’s, mowing her lawn or installing an air conditioner. Tuck and I built Knox a bigger bed. Knox is a quiet kid, but he’s warmed up to me slowly. Our shared interest in football has helped. Reese was right; he’s better at football than basketball. When he gets to high school, Fernwood might finally have a shot at a state title.
“I’ll put this upstairs,” I say. “And grab the football. You’ll see the kitchen as soon as you walk around the fireplace. Tuck’s cooking bacon.”
Reese sniffs the air. “Yeah, I can smell it.”
“Most people are on the deck.”
“Most people? How many did Tuck invite?”
“Probably about fifty more than showed up. You know Tuck.”
She nods. “I do.”
He’s the social butterfly of our trio. Reese and I are more lone wolves.
Last I heard, the guest list for his wedding was about five hundred people.
I walk upstairs, turning into the room where I slept last night. Keira’s leaning over the bed, changing the sheets.
“Can I help?” I ask.
She glances over her shoulder, watching as I set Reese’s suitcase down next to the dresser. “I got it, thanks.”
“Okay.” I smile, then turn to go.
“Ryder?”
I pause. “Yeah?”
Keira fiddles with the pillowcase she’s holding, looking nervous. “It’s none of my business, obviously. But … is something going on between you and Reese? Are you guys … extra friendly? Because Tuck told me you aren’t, so that’s what I told Elle, but after last night, I just …” She chews on her bottom lip. “I feel bad that I’ve put her in … awkward situations recently. I want to avoid any more.”
My mind is racing. Elle never really let me explain that night when she called while I was over at Reese’s, installing her air conditioner. I couldn’t tell if she hung up because she was mad about the comment I made about her boyfriend or if she was jealous.
“There’s nothing going on between me and Reese,” I tell Keira. “We’re just friends.”
Maybe if I’d never met Elle Clarke, that would be different. Reese and I are similar in so many ways. She understands a lot about me, things I’ve never had to explain. She has rough edges, just like me. I wouldn’t worry about ruining her life.
“Are you and Elle just friends?”
“We were never just friends,” I reply, leaning against the wall. “We were always more.”
I wanted all of Elle, not just part of her. And I never thought she’d look twice at me. Part of me is still stunned that she did. Is still that fumbling fourteen-year-old, folding a paper flower and trying to come up with something clever to say to the most popular girl in school.
“She tell you what happened last night?” I ask.
Keira shakes her head. “No.”
I swallow, glancing down at the blue-and-white-striped rug on the floor. “I messed up—again. I just … I can’t figure out what she wants.”
When I look up, Keira appears incredulous. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but are you dumb? She wants you, Ryder. She’s always wanted you.”
“I didn’t think she’d wait,” I say. “If I saw her again, I thought she’d have a massive diamond on her finger. Maybe have a kid on the way.”
“Well, she’s not engaged or married, and she’s definitely not pregnant.”
She could be. We had unprotected sex last night, and I have no idea how effective the medicine she took is.
“She deserves better,” I say. “I can’t give her … anything.”
“Do you really think Elle doesn’t know you’re broke? Again, no offense. I’ve known her for a long time. Longer than you. She’s been rich her whole life. I was there when she got her convertible and when her parents gave her diamond earrings at her college graduation. And I’ve never seen her light up the way she did when you two were arguing about who was going to drive last night. Or when you were washing her dog. I’ve met every guy she’s ever dated. Yeah, most of them were wealthy. She didn’t look at any of them the way she looks at you. So, if you’re holding back because you think she doesn’t love you or is better off without you, you’re wrong. So, fucking do something, Ryder, before it’s too late.”
I stare at Keira, processing.
“Again, none of my business.”
“She’s mad at me,” I say. “It might already be too late.”
“She hooked up with you outside a bar last night, Ryder. Unless the sex was bad—which it wasn’t, based on your face—it’s not too late.”
“I thought she didn’t tell you what happened?”
Keira smirks. “Lucky guess. Her hair was down when you two disappeared and up when she came back.”
I shake my head. “Okay. Uh, thanks.”
“If you could not mention this chat to Tuck, that would be great. I kinda promised him I’d stay out of it.”
“What chat?”
She smiles. “Thanks.”
I nod, then continue toward the office where I’m staying now to retrieve the football I brought.
When I get back downstairs, the kitchen is crowded, and the deck is empty. Everyone’s grabbing plates or serving food. My eyes find Elle, standing by the fridge, talking to Juliet.
No matter how long I stare, she doesn’t look this way. Her focus seems purposeful, and I start to second-guess some of what Keira just said.
She couldn’t get away from me fast enough after we had sex. Shut down during the drive to and from the pharmacy, then barely looked at me during dinner.
And she hasn’t mentioned my letter, which is starting to give me a complex. I know she got it. Did she not read it? Burn it? Hate it?
I eat breakfast standing up by the sink since there’s a shortage of chairs. Ophelia comes over to say hi, but Reese and Knox are the only other people who talk to me. Tuck is busy cooking, and Elle continues to pretend I don’t exist.
As soon as I finish eating, Knox asks if we can play football on the beach. I can’t say no to his excited expression, and Reese approves the outing.
Knox and I head toward the deck doors, the football I brought tucked under one of Knox’s skinny biceps. Scout’s been prowling the kitchen floor for scraps, but he follows me over to the door and whines when I reach for the handle.
Elle’s sitting on one of the island stools, five feet away, laughing at something Avery said.
“Elle.”
Her eyes flash to my face the second I say her name, not as oblivious as she was acting. Elle says nothing, just raises one eyebrow expectantly.
“Can Scout go outside?” I ask.
She glances at Knox, holding a football, then the dog at my feet. Nods.
Then looks away again.
We head to the nearby lighthouse, mid-afternoon. It’s a beautiful day, sunny and hot, and it’s a scenic walk along the dunes, dotted with waving beach grass. Barely any traffic passes by, and the salty air smells like freshly cut grass and sunscreen and barbecue smoke.
It feels like summer.
I walk with Mario and Bowen. We talk at the jobsite, but usually about lunch orders or potential drywall problems. During the twenty-minute trip, I learn Mario is saving up to move to California and start his own vegetable farm. Bowen has a girlfriend in New York he’s planning to propose to soon.
The lighthouse turns out to be a popular tourist attraction. Swarms of people fill the grass surrounding the tall, straight structure. I’ve seen the lighthouse before, from the ferry and from driving around the island. It’s much, much bigger up close, towering over us.
Which is the whole point, I suppose. You’re supposed to be able to see it.
The top half is painted red, the bottom half white. Against the blue backdrop of the clear sky, it appears as purposefully decorated for today as Keira’s house.
Signs are scattered along the path that winds to a door at the lighthouse’s base. I pause to read a couple of them, skimming paragraphs about the construction and the upkeep and the lost souls saved at sea by the sight of the structure’s lights.
The door opens into a small gift shop. Juliet is standing right inside the opening, spinning the carousel of postcards. She glances up at me and offers a small smile, which I return. Of Elle’s two best friends, I’ve gotten to know Keira better. Mostly because of her relationship with Tuck.
There’s a display of flashing keychains by the register. And one simple metal one that’s shaped like a lighthouse. I buy it impulsively.
Elle’s birthday is tomorrow, and I’ve had no idea what to get her. A keychain isn’t a car or diamond earrings, but it’s better than nothing. Representative of this place we’ve only been to together as adults.
A winding staircase leads upstairs to the lookout. As I go up, the circles seem endless, and my lungs and calves are burning by the time I reach the top. I’m in decent shape from lifting lumber and all the other construction work I’ve been doing lately, but it’s been a long time since I did any cardio.
It’s less crowded up here, most people choosing the view from the grass over the one from up here. They’re missing out. It’s stunning, looking out at the water. An endless spread of shimmering blue, spots of white foam appearing and then disappearing.
But the view has nothing on Elle. Her dark hair is being blown in a wild halo around her face, but she seems oblivious as she looks out at the ocean.
My lungs feel tight again, and it has nothing to do with the exertion of climbing what felt like a few hundred stairs.
I’ve been dying to talk to her all day. I’m also dreading it. Because once this conversation takes place, I won’t be able to go back and redo it.
“Hi,” is the super-original greeting I come up with.
Elle doesn’t glance over as I take the spot beside her. She keeps staring straight at the sea. “Hi.”
“Nice view.”
She hums an agreement, I think. It’s hard to hear over the other noise around us. Not only the surf and the wind, but also the guy on my other side, who’s holding a screaming toddler.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
“I’m fine,” Elle replies.
Nothing in her voice says she wants to keep talking to me. But I forge ahead anyway. “Are we okay?”
“Yeah.” She glances at me carelessly, like it’s an obligation she only needs a few seconds to fulfill. Her eyes are back on the waves before I can even react, refocused on the horizon.
My fingers tighten on the railing. “Do you … regret it?”
Elle doesn’t answer right away. But I can feel her deliberating, the air around us gaining a new charge of awareness. She wasn’t sure if I’d bring last night up, I think.
“No,” she finally says. “Maybe it needed to happen. Clear the air some.”
I snort. I can’t help it. “You think last night cleared the air?”
She stays stubbornly silent, watching the ocean like something about the sight is going to change sometime soon.
“Did you read the letter?” I ask. I can’t hold the question in any longer.
“Yes.”
That’s all she says. Yes.
“And?” I prompt.
“It was nice. Thanks.”
I want to shout. To shake her. Possibly cry because Keira got my hopes up and it feels like they’re dying a slow death.
“Do you think I could make it to the water from here?” I ask.
She’s still—so still—beside me. We’re two statues, staring at the sea.
“I don’t know what you think bringing that up is?—”
“I’m trying, Elle. I’m trying, and I can’t tell if you want me to. I can’t tell what you want. I need you to tell me, the way I told you in that letter.”
“The one you wrote six years ago?”
“I could have written it yesterday. I wouldn’t have changed a word. Yeah, I hurt you on purpose. I wish I’d had other options, but I didn’t. I did what I thought was best for you, and you don’t get to tell me that’s wrong. I was the one in prison, not you. I did what I had to, to get through it, and I can’t change the past. You’re mad I never gave you a choice? You have one now. You said you’d never forgive me, and I never expected you to. But I am in love with you.”
Elle’s inhale is loud enough that I catch it over the commotion around us.
“If you want me, I’m yours. But if you can’t get past everything that happened, if the air has been cleared—whatever the hell that means—I’ll get it. I just need you to tell me what you want from me, so we can both move forward.”
At least I broke through the indifference. Shock is all I can read on Elle’s face as she stares at me.
“Elle! Oh good, I was worried I wouldn’t be able to find you up here. Keira wants to take a photo with her bridesmaids, down by the water.” Avery glances at me. Smiles. “Hey, Ryder.”
“Hey,” I reply.
Ophelia wanders over to us. “Isn’t the view up here insane?”
Knox and Reese join us a few seconds later. Knox is proudly showing off a rock he got in the gift shop.
That’s the end of our private conversation, obviously.
And I’m not sure if it’s a good or bad thing that Elle will have more time to think about everything I just said to her.