Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
CASH
The drumming of my fingers on my windowsill sounds annoyed. Because I am annoyed. I’m also slightly amused that this noise can sound annoying.
For almost all of April and the first half of May, he was in my room every single night. But after the last incident at the Hinky Dinky Bar with Benson being Benson, and Onyx didn’t come into my room that night, his visits have been… weird.
His kisses are weird and distant. He hasn’t really touched me, which is fine. Not everything is sexual, right? But… I don’t know how to express my feelings, even to myself. I’m trying not to let it hurt because it sucks that it hurts.
But now I’m kind of trapped in my room because I don’t want to see Onyx right now, and for some reason, he’s in the damn driveway on his phone. Why is he here? To my knowledge, he hasn’t been hanging around with my brother, so… why is he here?!
After my eighth look at the time, I decide I don’t have the time to sit here and wait for him to disappear.
This is my house. I’m not going to slink out the back door just to avoid him.
That’s ridiculous. Pathetic. Yet, I’m internally contemplating sneaking out the back door and running through my neighbor’s yard just to avoid him.
No. I’m not that pathetic. I refuse. But I will be on my phone so I can pretend I don’t know he’s there. That seems like a reasonable and believable compromise.
I push my bedroom door open and poke my head into the hall to listen. The house is quiet. I don’t even hear music from Benson’s room, which maybe isn’t a surprise. It’s still early. I have the first tour at the docks this morning.
Taking a deep breath, I grab my water bottle and head to the front door. With my water under my arm and phone on as I scroll far too fast to be believable on ShareIt, I practically burst through the front door. I’m far more mindful about closing it quietly than I was when I opened the door.
I’m halfway down the path when Onyx says my name. My shoulders tense, though I try to force them to relax as my feet become instantly stuck to the ground. Traitors. Taking a deep breath, I pick my head up and look at Onyx.
He’s watching me. Waiting? I don’t speak, but I glance at the time again, just to make sure I’m not actually going to be late.
Onyx closes the distance between us and stands a couple feet in front of me. “Going to work?” he asks.
I look down at my tacky sailor uniform and then meet his eyes again. “I wear this for fun,” I deadpan.
One side of his mouth crooks into a half smile. “I’m sorry I didn’t—”
“I don’t have time to talk right now.” I take a step backward and twist to turn around when he speaks again, and I’m rooted to the spot.
“I can’t do this, Cash,” he says quietly, and his words feel like a punch to my chest. “Ben would lose his mind.”
“He’s already lost his mind,” I counter.
“Cash—”
I wave him off and give him my back. “Whatever. I have to go to work.”
“Cash!”
Shoving my phone into my pocket, I ignore the fact that he’s following me and pick up my pace. I don’t run. I refuse. But I’m certainly walking quicker than usual. When I begin jogging despite my best efforts not to, Onyx stops following me. Which is good. I won’t let him see the tears in my eyes.
It’s stupid. Everything about this is stupid, and I hate it. I shouldn’t have let him into my room that first night. It was a mistake.
I’m sprinting to the dock and practically slam into the line of lockers to stop myself. The sudden impact knocks the breath from my lungs, and my eyes sting again. At least there’s a good reason this time.
“Cash? Are you okay?”
I look up at Nason as I struggle to inhale again.
Holy fuck. Forgetting how to breathe is terrifying.
He stands beside me and pats my back as if I’m an infant needing to be burped to get all the air out.
It does the trick, though. His thumping kick starts the muscle memory in my lungs, and I take in a big breath of air.
I bend over, bracing myself with my hands on my knees as I focus on breathing. “Yeah. Thought I was going to miss the ferry,” I lie.
He hums. “Even if you did, another one follows within minutes.”
Nodding, I stand up straight again. His hand is still resting on my back, rubbing soothingly. I wipe at my eyes to get the moisture out. “Thanks. I’m okay.”
Nason wraps his arm around my shoulders and gives me a brief hug. I rest my weight on him for a minute and allow myself to take comfort in his embrace. Nason might as well be a third dad to me at this point. I’ve spent so much time at his house growing up that he and Miranda are practically family.
Sometimes, I used to pretend that my parents were divorced, and this was the other half of my parents’ home. Not that I ever wanted or imagined my parents divorcing. I would be completely devastated. Hmm. Now that I think about it again, I can hear how messed up the thought is. Never mind.
I secure my phone in a locker and join Nason on the dock to wait for the ferry to approach. We talk about my job, and I grill him about the managerial strike. By the time we reach Anapos, Onyx isn’t the first thing on my mind, which I appreciate.
However, as soon as I’m wandering to the tour docks alone, I swear I can hear Onyx saying my name. I even turn around to look behind me, but he’s not there. My shoulders sag. This is going to be a long fucking day.
The first tour is quiet. I think everyone is feeling the hour. My job is to linger and keep an eye on the guests to make sure they don’t try to do something stupid like stand on the railing or something. You’d think that these adults would know how to behave. Spoiler—they don’t.
The second tour is reserved for the third- and fourth-grade classes. While I should be surprised, they’re far more behaved than at least a quarter of the adults we take on tours.
Because we have our residents on board, the tour is slightly modified to include some more historical relevance.
There’s a different tour for our kids as they get older, too.
One that highlights life in the water surrounding our islands.
Honestly, it’s one of my favorites. What I wouldn’t give for a glass-bottom boat to show them what’s under their feet!
By the third tour, I’m feeling a little grumpy.
Not because of the people around me, but because I hate that I can’t stop hearing Onyx’s voice in my head and seeing the way he looked at me this morning.
It was distant. He’s never looked at me that way.
Ever. In all twenty years he’s been in my life.
I hate the way it makes me feel. I hate how broken up I am about it. I hate that I can’t shake the feeling. I hate it so much that I’m even willing to flirt with the guests who make passes at me, which is something I’ve never done.
I’ve been watching Lie flirt with men at the bar for months now. And before that, when we were patrons at the bar, instead of him working the bar. I’m not sure I’m as natural at flirting as Lie is, but the guests that I attempt to flirt with seem to enjoy it.
One even gives me his room number and promises he’ll be in his room after nine tonight. I make a mental note to tell Lie that I got a room number. Just because it feels like a big milestone as a worker.
Maybe I ignore the way my gut twists when I accept the number that he’s scrawled on a corner of the expedition catalog. As if I’m doing something wrong.
I’m not. Onyx was never my boyfriend. We weren’t even seeing each other. We weren’t dating. We were hanging out at night and fooling around. It was hooking up. Maybe a low-key friends-with-benefits situation.
But there was no commitment there. There weren’t any plans for a future together. Not even so much as ‘tomorrow, let’s do this’. We didn’t even hang out in the daylight.
There was nothing there. Just my own secret crush that got out of hand and grew into feelings.
It’s my fault that I hurt right now. This was always going to be a recipe for heartache.
He was always going to choose Benson over me.
I can’t even be mad about it. I’d choose Lie every time. No matter what.
Yes, the situation is wildly different, but still.
I was right. Today is the longest day I’ve had in a long time.
Onyx’s voice saying ‘I can’t do this’ echoed in my head all day long.
My misery must have reflected in my face because my coworkers asked if I was okay throughout the day.
My lame-ass answer was that I had the air knocked out of my lungs this morning—my own doing—and maybe I was still shaken by it.
By the time I get home, I just want to go to bed. My parents are home, though. I can hear them singing together in the kitchen, and it makes me smile. I miss coming home to my dads.
I must have been standing just inside the door too long and just listening to them because my Pops pokes his head around the corner with a big smile. “Hey, baby. Welcome home.”
Apparently, I’m feeling soft and emotional today because a fresh wave of tears stings my eyes. I hadn’t realized how much I missed my dads. I’m always reminded every time they’re home.
“Hi, Pops,” I say and break free of my frozen state. He wraps his arm around my shoulders as I get closer and brings me into the kitchen. Dad is at the stove, wiggling as he cooks. Just as he always had when we were kids.
“Hey, Cashy,” Dad says and turns a minute later, licking something off his finger with a smile. “How was work?”
“Good,” I answer.
Both of my fathers’ smiles fade. “What’s wrong, Cash?”
I sigh. Apparently, I wear my heart painted all over my face! How inconvenient.
“Just had a long day. Think I’m going to go to bed.”
Now they’re studying me with concern.
“Baby, it’s only four,” Pops says.
“Yeah, I know. I’m really tired.”
He wraps me in a hug, and for a minute, I let myself relax into his embrace. I’ve missed dad hugs. Dad joins us, his hand moving over the back of my head, as if he’s brushing down my hair.
“Are you sure? We have plenty of food for dinner,” Dad says.
“Yeah. I really miss having dinner with you, but I just want to go to bed.”
“We miss you too, baby,” Pops says and kisses the side of my head. “How about tomorrow night? What time do you work?”
“I’m out at two tomorrow, so I’ll be home after that.”
“Want to have dinner with your old parents?” Dad asks, and I smile. “We’ll meal prep together and cook on the grill. Maybe play some board games and watch movies? What d’ya think?”
“You’re not that old, but yeah, I’d love that.”
“Good. I’ll go to the market in the morning,” Pops says. “How’s tuna sound?”
“Sure. I think it’s been a while since we’ve had tuna.”
“It has, and I found a new recipe,” Pops says.
Dad and I groan.
“Ah, Troy. We want our kid to want to spend time with us. Don’t poison him with a new recipe.”
Dad and I jump simultaneously when Pops pinches us both. Our laughter feels like a shot of antibiotic that’s finally kicked in to clear the cold fog from your head. I sigh and hug my parents a little tighter.
“You sure you don’t want something to eat?” Dad asks. “Tried-and-true recipe tonight. Promise.”
Grinning, I shake my head. “No. Thanks, though.”
“Okay, baby. Sleep well.” Pops kisses my head, and then Dad does. They release me, and I offer them a smile before heading to my bedroom.
I don’t bother to take a shower, even though I’m covered in ocean spray and sunscreen. Probably sand or something. As much as I despise the feeling of sand and outside between my sheets, I lock my bedroom door, strip down to my underwear, and climb into bed.
I am tired. That’s not a lie. I haven’t had a full night’s sleep in, well, not since I started my job a few weeks ago at the beginning of May. Before then, even though Onyx was in here every night, I could sleep until noon if I wanted.
Even though I’m exhausted, sleep doesn’t come. The sun is still out. Still shining brightly through the cracks in my curtains. I roll, toss and turn, and try to ignore the memories of Onyx in the driveway this morning.
After a while, I grab my earbuds and put on some music.
I’m stuck between loud, angry music to drive away the melancholy in my chest, but knowing it’s not conducive to sleeping, or something soft and soothing, and risk becoming emotional and crying.
Then I won’t be sleeping because I’ll be congested and can’t breathe.
In the end, I choose a pop music channel and listen to the girlies sing about love and fuck the patriarchy.
It doesn’t exactly put me to sleep. My eyes lazily close and open, and I find that my brain is playing a game and trying to gauge how much the sun has gone down since the last time I opened my eyes. I know it’s getting later. My room is getting darker and darker.
I doze on and off for quite some time. I’m not sure I sleep for more than ten or twenty minutes at a time.
Tapping on my door indicates how late it’s gotten, as it pulls me from sleep. I inhale sharply as I listen to the doorknob jingle. My body tenses. Another couple taps. They’re quiet. Familiar. I know who it is without question.
My chest feels tight, and I squeeze my eyes shut as he continues to try getting into my room. Go away, I silently plead. Why is he even here if he can’t do this?
It feels like hours before Onyx finally gives up. Maybe at that point, I’m so wound up tight from emotional overload or whatever, but I finally fall asleep and stay asleep.