Chapter 38
thirty-eight
PRESENT DAY
brANDON
The blue horizon undulates far in the distance, blurring sea and sky. The sun’s rays are hardly deterred by my thick black sunglasses, and I have to squint if I so much as lift my head from the path to the beach.
Cam and I trail Liza and Kate’s conversation about wedding planning with Vivian yesterday as we make our way across the sandy expanse.
Kate’s parents had no interest in coming to the beach this afternoon, but I’m not complaining.
Pretty sure all four of us were relieved to hear they’d arranged an outing with some country club members they ran into earlier.
I hoist one of the beach totes higher on my shoulder as I clench a stack of towels beneath my arm. As irritated as Kate was about her mom treating me like staff yesterday, she certainly has no qualms about loading me up like a donkey now.
I gave her a hard time, but the truth is I was going to offer anyway. Cam balances a sport umbrella on his shoulder beside a second tote as we make small talk.
Gritty sand floods my flip flops until we find a spot the girls deem optimal for sun-to-water ratio, whatever that means. I plop the bag down as Cam sets up the umbrella. Kate approaches me with a sly smile, taking a towel from the stack. She lifts up and pecks me on the cheek.
“Thanks, fluffy bunny. You’re the sweetest,” she says, crinkling her nose.
“Anything for you, bubbles.”
She chuckles, low and husky, before snatching a second towel for Liza. She returns to the sunlit sand ten feet beyond the shade of the umbrella.
I cock my head. “Why bring an umbrella if you’re just gonna roast yourself in the sun?”
She gives me a look that says, “Do I really need to explain this to you?”
Cam claps me on the back as he passes. “Don’t bother trying to make sense of these two.”
My laugh freezes as Kate bends in her tiny denim shorts to fan out her towel. An escaped strand of hair from her messy bun skates across her cheek.
I work to swallow.
This was a really bad idea. Why did I think I’d be impervious to Vacation Kate? This enigmatic version who takes photos and actually laughs at my jokes. The impossibly sexier, sandier version in a black bikini and frayed denim shorts.
Accessories sold separately.
A groan slides under my breath before I tell myself to knock it off. I can do this. I can show up for Kate, my friend. Besides, I’ve endured week-long backpacking trips with Tuck’s hygiene and bodily reactions to dairy.
I can do this.
So I slide on a charming grin and spread my own towel beneath the umbrella like a normal person.
I withdraw the brown leather sketchbook Kate gifted me at the beginning of the trip and set it beside my towel in case I feel inspired later.
I lie down in the shade, propping my arms behind my head and taking in the scenery behind my sunglasses.
Liza slips off her shoes, dancing like she’s on hot coals. She ties her shorter brown hair back in a ponytail.
“C’mon, Kate. Let’s go swim,” Liza says.
Kate hesitates, her left knee beginning to bounce. Her eyes cut to me for a millisecond.
“I’m good. You go ahead,” Kate says.
Liza’s head drops to the side. “You mean to tell me that we escaped a Chicago winter to this”—she orchestrates a gesture at the symphony of crashing waves—“and you’re not even gonna swim?”
Kate bites her lip, looking at the diamond-crested water. Her shoulders slump. “Fine, I’ll swim.”
Liza squeals and bolts across the sand. “Beat you there!”
Kate’s eyes flick to me before a breath seems to straighten her spine. She tosses her head back, unbuttons her shorts, and slides them off her hips so fast it’s almost a blur.
But time somehow betrays her. Because in my line of vision, each second becomes ten.
Then twenty. And I have all the time in the world to take in the thorny rose tattooed on her left hip.
How the stem climbs from the top of her thigh to where the scarlet petals curve above the band of her bikini bottoms.
It’s as though she plucked one from my very shoulder to keep on the skin behind her pocket. A secret, only for her.
Except, I’ve seen it now. And the rush of heat flooding my veins tells me I’ll never be able to unsee it.
KATE
I sneak up the winding cement stairs off the patio, low plants grazing my bare ankles.
My mind is a coiled jack-in-the-box, one I need to unwind before I burst open.
The top of the hot tub gazebo is barely visible against the inky black sky, but the bubbling water glows a faint blue.
I make a mental note to thank the staff for leaving the cover off.
I slip off my sandals and ease into the scalding water. The burning bite does little to distract my mind, however. Even though I’m concealed by flowering bushes, I still feel exposed.
Vulnerable.
Brandon’s eyes stayed hidden behind his sunglasses at the beach, but I know he saw my tattoo. His whole demeanor changed, and his eyes kept wandering to the spot long after I put my shorts back on.
He knows, and I don’t know how to feel about it. Or how he feels about it.
I sink deeper, turning until the bubbling water heats my shoulders, as if that will erase the embarrassment inked on my skin.
“Am I interrupting?”
I squeeze my eyes, as if that will eliminate the presence of that deep, rumbly voice behind me.
“I can go, Kate. If that’s what you want.”
I crack my eyelids open.
He’s giving me an out, and it is what I want.
But ignoring tough subjects is something I’m trying to overcome. Communication is difficult, but stewing in regret for six years is harder.
I sigh, turning in the water to face the looming man above me.
Despite the late hour, Brandon seems fully awake.
He’s wearing the same maroon swimming trunks he wore to the beach today.
Ones that end well above his knees, tempting way too many innocent beach-goers to admire the cut muscles in his thighs.
But his black eyebrows crinkle in concern, and it eases my chest a bit.
“You can stay,” I murmur, trailing my fingertips across the water.
Brandon doesn’t speak, only removes his sandals, eases himself into the steaming water, and sits across from me. His eyes flick to the water where my left hip is deeply submerged.
I suck in a slow breath. Fighting to stay vulnerable, I remind myself that if I want something I’ve never had, I’ve got to do something I’ve never done.
So, I steady my legs beneath me and stand. The water laps across the band of my bikini bottoms, but I know the crest of the rose petals is visible.
Brandon’s gaze fixates on my hip. His fingers move toward it, seeming of their own volition. But he stops halfway, seeking permission with his eyes.
I nod.
The heated water is nothing compared to the searing touch of his fingertips. Brandon traces the petals across my hip bone, then his eyes search mine again.
“When?”
I roll my lips, trying to tamp down the urge to flee. Have I really been such a coward all this time?
“The night you graduated.”
He’s quiet for a long time, only the stroke of his fingers through the water disrupting the silence.
“Why?” he finally asks.
His vulnerable expression strikes a chord deep within my soul. Yearning for something lines his features, so much that I’m unable to speak for a moment.
“I never thought I’d see you again,” I whisper. “You were graduating. You’d be leaving to who-knows-where. And I…” I bite my lip, falling silent.
He places a hand on my arm. “Kate. Please.”
“I wanted a piece of you,” I mumble, humiliated. “I was scared I’d forget.”
“Why didn’t you reach out then? Kate, you’ve had my number for six years.”
“I–I couldn’t. I wasn’t… I’m still not—”
“I swear, Kate, if you’re about to say the word ‘enough,’ I’m going to lose it.”
“Enough.” My lips twitch the tiniest bit.
“You’re a pain in the butt,” he mutters, though a hollow smile curves his mouth.
Brandon stands, trailing one wet hand up my arm until he cups my face. The other stays firmly planted on my hip. His shadowed gaze dances between my eyes, his expression falling serious as he draws closer.
“When are you gonna get it through that pretty little head of yours that you were always enough for me?” He pauses, eyes glittering in the moonlight. “That you are enough for me?”
My heart is a fluttering broken bird, half dragging, half hoping.
“Brandon. I—”
“I thought I heard voices!” Liza and Cam barrel up the steps. She halts, making Cam smack into her back. “Whoopsie. We just wanted to hang out. Sorry, guys. We’ll leave you two alone.”
Brandon’s eyes stay glued to mine, and I think he sees my relief at the distraction. He drops his hand from my cheek, and I watch his charismatic mask slide into place as he turns to my sister.
“No, you guys can stay. We’d love to hang out,” he says.
More stars pepper the sky as the night deepens.
Cam sits contentedly with his arm around Liza while she yaps about the couple Mom and Dad ran into earlier.
Apparently, there is a black-tie charity event at the country club tomorrow night that we now are required to attend, lest our parents die of shame.
Liza is quick to comfort our irritated expressions with the fact that she already found a tux rental shop.
I teeter on a precipice, half involved in the conversation and half unraveling as Brandon continues to stroke a thumb over my hip beneath the water.
The ink on my skin has belonged to him for years, but I’m terrified that my heart might always have been as well.