Chapter 16
SIXTEEN
DALTON
I rushed home from Salty Sailors last night like my ass was on fire, just so I could hurry up, close my eyes, and relive the night with Savanna. More specifically, the moment my face was buried between her thighs, as she rode me like it was life or death, begging me not to stop.
For fuck’s sake.
It’s no wonder I wake up with a hard-on every morning.
Since the night of the bonfire six years ago, my mornings have often blurred together, waking up from dreams of Savanna pinned beneath me in the sand—her breathless and panting, her green eyes locked on mine as my name fell from her lips.
Every. Fucking. Night.
That memory of us under the pier on South Beach is burned into my mind like my life depends on it, stuck in an endless August.
I’ve held onto those memories with an iron grip, tied them down like a fucking weight to my soul. All I know is that after yesterday, I need more memories like the one last night in her kitchen.
I’m sprawled out under the sink, my back digging into the base of the wood cabinet, when I hear Mom’s voice ring out from the living room.
“Dalton, honey! You got a visitor,” she shouts, as I’m mid-torque tightening the kitchen faucet.
I pop my head up and mumble, “fuck,” when my forehead smacks into the fixed cabinet frame. The sudden edge in her voice makes me think we’ve got a random fucking visitor—my mind jumps straight to Savanna. Scratch that. Wishing it were.
But it’s not.
“Honey, I’m home!” Hudson sings, making his way into the kitchen.
Hudson gingerly steps around me, pulls out a stool, and takes a seat at the island, cradling a brown paper bag in his arms. My eyes immediately recognize the familiar logo of Island Sandwiches written across the side—one of our favorite lunch spots growing up.
“Hungry?”
My stomach has been churning all morning thinking about Savanna and the four celebratory tequila shots Hudson roped me into last night. Rolling my body off the floor, I snatch the sandwich Hudson’s holding out for me.
“Shit, yeah. Thanks, man.” I take the empty barstool beside Hudson as we unwrap our lunch.
“I thought you could use a little something to soak up all that alcohol you drank last night,” Hudson teases.
I scoff. I don’t even know how this guy isn’t remotely hungover today—he practically drank half his weight in alcohol last night.
“Yeah,” I say mid-chew. “And whose fault is that?”
Hudson throws his hands up in defense. “Hey, now. I can’t help it when a group of extremely hot girls wants to party with us.”
I roll my eyes as I think about the rowdy group of girls in question that came into the bar right as I was trying to leave. “Right. Well, I won’t be letting you talk me into that anytime soon,” I mumble.
Hudson snorts, bumping my elbow. “Come on, man. They were eating you up. I’m pretty sure the tall one was eye-fucking you the entire night after you told her you were a Marine.” He chuckles. “It’s like a goddamn superpower or something. I’m beginning to think I missed my calling.”
I let out a chortle at Hudson’s cockiness. “I’m not interested.”
“Live a little,” Hudson laughs with a mouthful of food. “You're in your hometown on leave…you probably haven’t gotten laid in fucking forever considering you’ve been deployed in the middle of fucking nowhere.”
Well, I guess he’s not wrong there.
But there’s no way in hell I’m talking about my sex life with Hudson, especially when all those thoughts lead back to his sister.
Hudson smirks. “Oh. My bad,” he says with an eye roll, “I forgot. Not your type, right?”
I let out a grunt, taking another bite of my sandwich. “What are you up to today?” I ask, changing the subject.
“Running some drills and doing some conditioning with the team this afternoon.”
“On a fucking Sunday?” I ask in disbelief.
Hudson’s always been a sports guy, but I would hardly call the guy a hard-ass who would make his varsity football team practice on a Sunday.
“Yeah, on a fucking Sunday. The assistant coaches want to make sure the team is ready for this week's upcoming game. The team we’re facing is undefeated, so they threw in extra practice.”
“Well, shit, man. Good luck with that.” My hand comes down hard on his back.
Hudson laughs, eyes roaming the kitchen where various tools lay scattered across the floor.
“You should come out and watch. Maybe even help out. I say you ditch this house renovation today. Come support your old high school sports team. I hear the athletic director has a pretty big dick.” Hudson winks, nudging my arm.
I let out an amused snort. Fucking Hudson.
“Maybe you can recruit some of these little assholes into the Marines, whip ‘em into shape,” he adds, shoving his sandwich into his mouth.
A chuckle slips out mid-bite as I remember we were those little assholes not that long ago—getting into trouble and causing mayhem around the island.
“Yeah, it’s a possibility.” I shrug. “I have to head to the hardware store to grab a few parts to fix the kitchen sink here soon. But maybe if I have time later.”
I lie. Because I sure as shit don’t feel like sitting in my old high school stadium watching a bunch of kids smash into each other while I’m sweating last night's tequila shots out of my pores.
Hudon rolls his eyes. “I guess I’ll accept that excuse. But if you change your mind, you know where to find me.”
A laugh rumbles from my chest as I slap him on the shoulder. “Alright, man, I’ll think about it.”
Hudson really wasn’t kidding about not letting me out of his sight this week.
Changing the subject, he nudges me with his elbow. “So, how is California? The weather, the beach, the girls? You must be counting down the damn days until you’re back there.”
I pause chewing, my appetite suddenly gone. I’m counting down the days, alright, but not for the reasons he thinks. “Yeah, sure,” I lie again.
Hudson snorts. “Yeah, sure,” he mocks. “You know what, I think I'm going to fly out there this summer and visit you. You can take me to all the bars and introduce me to all that California sunshine.” He winks. I don’t miss the hint of innuendo in his voice.
Yeah, I’m not introducing Hudson to anything.
“California sunshine, huh? You sure you don’t have that right here on the island?” I tease, walking to the fridge to pull out a beer. I grab an extra one and hand it to Hudson.
Hudson cocks his head, quirking an eyebrow. “There’s no California sunshine on this damn island, Dalton.”
“You could have fooled me,” I chuckle, sitting back down.
Hudson scoffs, twisting the top off his beer. “I have no fucking idea what you're talking about.”
“No? The bartender at Salty’s isn’t your version of the California dream?”
I watch the color drain from Hudson’s face. “Hailey?” he practically screeches.
“Bingo.” I watch Hudson squirm in the hot seat.
“Nah, man. She’s Savanna’s boss.”
I give him a pointed look. “And?”
“I’d probably fuck it up. Savanna’s already had it rough the last few years, raising Drew. The last thing I want to do is get her in trouble at work.” Hudson looks down at where he’s spinning the bottle in his hands.
My chest pulls tight at his confession, stomach churning, knowing Savanna has been all alone the last six years to face the obstacles of being a single mother by herself.
“Well, you're a damn good brother,” I reassure him, squeezing his shoulder. “But sometimes, you can’t help what the heart wants.” I sigh, speaking from experience here.
Hudson whips his head up. “When the fuck did you become Dr. Phil?”
A laugh rumbles from my chest as I scratch my jawline.
Shit. I guess the second I saw Savanna this week.
“I’m just saying, man, sometimes you have to go after what you want.”
Hudson studies me as he crumples his sandwich wrapper and shoves it in the bag. “Yeah? And do you take that advice yourself, Dalton?”
Silence fills the space between us as I think. Hudson chugs the rest of his beer and tosses it in the trash. “Gotta practice what you preach, man.” He winks.
I clear my throat and clean up my lunch. “Yeah,” I mumble.
Walking Hudson out, we find Mom in the garage, organizing old clutter into various boxes. “How was lunch, boys?” She speaks up from where she’s holding old Christmas decor in her hands.
“Delicious like always, Mrs. Hayes.” Hudson beams. “I’m just trying to reintroduce this guy back to island life and all the things he’s been missing the last six years.” He nudges my side. “Maybe if I just feed him Island Sandwiches for the next two weeks, he won’t wait so long to visit us again.”
I grunt and pull off my baseball cap, wiping away the Georgia heat beading along my hairline before settling it back on my head.
“Ain't that the truth, Hudson,” Mom laughs, her eyes catching on my hooded sweatshirt. “Dalton…honey, why are you wearing a sweatshirt?”
Hudson swings his head my way. “Yeah, Dalton, it’s like a thousand degrees out here.”
“It was cold in the kitchen.” I’ll take dying of heatstroke over my mom and Hudson seeing the hickey Savanna left on my neck last night any day.
“Oh, alright,” Mom says, giving me a suspicious eye. “Well, it’s good to see you boys back together. Just make sure this one stays out of trouble, will you?” she says to Hudson.
A snort falls from my mouth. She’s got it all wrong—it’s the other way around—I need to keep Hudson out of trouble.
“Oh, Mrs. Hayes,” Hudson says, bringing his hand to his heart. “You know me. Best behavior always.” He winks, channeling his inner charm.
Pink rises onto her cheeks.
What the fuck?
I’m going to kick the shit out of him.
My mom lets out a relieved sigh. “I can always count on you, Hudson. And speaking of trouble, Dalton Drew Hayes, don’t even think you’re going to get away with the fact I saw you sneaking into the house at midnight last night.”
I glance down at my work boots, sticking my hands in my pockets—the bill of my baseball hat hanging low to cover the guilt in my eyes. I may be a grown man, but when my mom reams my ass, I always revert back to a kid again. “Sorry, Mom,” I exhale. “I won’t worry you again like that while I’m here.”
“Well, you may be an adult, but you can’t keep your mom up worrying like that,” she adds. “I worry about you enough when you're away. I don’t need that stress when you're back home, too.”
I swallow, nodding. It’s like I’m standing at attention in front of my drill instructor back on base.
“Good. Now, if you boys will excuse me, I’m going to head inside and get cleaned up. It was good seeing you, Hudson.” She waves over her shoulder, making her way in.
“Bye, Mrs. Hayes. Let me know if you need any help around here after Dalton leaves,” Hudson hollers.
I exhale a labored breath once she’s gone.
“Shit,” Hudson says, stunned as we make our way to his truck. “I forgot how scary your mom can be when she says your full name like that.”
He pulls his driver's side door open and hops into the seat. Shaking his head, an amused laugh falls from his mouth as he slides the key into the ignition. “I still can’t believe my niece has the same name as you.”
“Yeah,” I chuckle dryly, not as amused as Hudson at that little coincidence. “What are the chances?”
Hudson leans out the side of his window, extends his arm, and gives me a fist bump. “Well, see you later, man. Don’t work too hard.” He chuckles.
“Yeah, see you later. Thanks again for the sandwich.” I bump my fist into his.
Hudson rolls up his window and drives off as I stand there rooted in place, watching his taillights trail down the driveway.
As I make my way up the front porch steps, a text pings through my phone.
Taking it out of my pocket, I glance down and swipe it open—it’s from my recruiter back in San Diego.
My eyes roam the screen as I scroll down to find my reenlistment details. The memory of my Sergeant Major pulling me into his office right before I left for the States comes to the forefront. My reenlistment is coming up, and they want me to commit to another four years in the Marines.
Obviously, that conversation with him was a no-brainer at the time, because what else was I going to fucking do?
I’ve been in the military since I was eighteen—it’s all I've known in my adult life.
But as I scroll through the details some more, I feel a lump making its way up my throat.
And suddenly, what was once a non-issue feels like a huge issue.
Another four years without Savanna.
In California. Not here in Georgia.
The realization that I’m leaving for California soon hits me like a double-decker bus during a high-speed chase.
What the hell am I going to do?
I have only two weeks left in Tybee before I need to head back to San Diego and sign my life away again. The awareness of the situation I’m in feels profound, like this is the decision of my fucking life.
Because time is slipping away between my damn fingers.
I head straight into the kitchen and clean up the tools I left lying around. Then I text Savanna. Because there’s no way I’m wasting another second renovating a house today.
I promised a little girl I’d take her and her mom fishing.