11. Aiden
Sunrise is officially my least favorite time of day.
Four hours ago, as the pitch-black night faded to a dark gray morning, I rolled over on the makeshift bed. My hips protested, despite the three layers of fire service blankets I made up for us on the cold floor of the lifeguard observation deck, but the discomfort fled the second I reached for Kate and found only empty air.
My heart pounded like a jackhammer as I searched the station from top to bottom, but when I noticed her duffel bag was missing and spun to check the lock on the door, it sank like a stone. I threw on my boots and stormed out into the pouring rain, breathing a sigh of relief when her footprints—barely visible imprints molded into the wet sand—weren’t headed toward the water.
But the consolation was short-lived when I reached the edge of the lot where I’d thrown my truck into park after racing over here yesterday afternoon and saw the NSTI van was nowhere in sight.
I cursed her aloud for slipping away and could’ve killed Kate for not waking me. Hell, I vowed to wring her neck when I got to Donna’s. After I confirmed she’s safe and sound, of course.
But that was hours ago, and I’m just leaving the emergency response center now. I couldn’t get away any earlier because the eight a.m. all-hands meeting ran long, and then I had to secure the beach again. The good news is no injuries have been reported, and although the rain is forecast to continue for at least another twelve hours, Love Beach was fortunate. Just like me.
Hurricane Aiden brought Kate back into my life and forced me to face the past. Although visibility is still low, I’m seeing more clearly than I have in years. And that clarity has made it crystal clear what I’m going to do when I get to Donna’s and am face-to-face with the girl I pushed away years ago.
I’m going to tell Kate how I feel. How I’ve always felt. And how these past thirty-six hours have shown me how stupid I am. Not that I regret what I did for a second. No, telling Kate I didn’t see a future with her, so she’d leave Love Beach and use that scholarship was the right thing to do.
I didn’t deserve her then and still don’t now, but if she’ll have me—if she’ll give me another chance—I’ll prove what we had then still beats strong now, although the difference is I’m willing to fight for it. For her. For us.
I’m rehearsing what to say, struggling to find the right words to convey how I feel, the right language to convince her to give me another chance, when I turn the final corner. But something is amiss. The NSTI van isn’t parked in Donna’s driveway or in the street. Once again, it’s nowhere to be seen.
“Where is she?” I demand, as Donna answers my pounding on the front door.
“Get in here,” she replies, tugging me, dripping wet, into her front room by the arm.
“Where?” I repeat, my voice cracking.
She closes the door, her palm resting flat on the frame for a beat before she turns to face me. But she doesn’t need to say a word. The look in her eyes conveys the bad news.
And renders my plan worthless. In a split second, I’m questioning every minute of the past thirty-six hours. Every look, every touch, every emotion. Because what I thought was true between us has evaporated into thin air. Just like Kate.
Maybe, she didn’t feel the spark I did. Maybe, what happened last night in the lifeguard station—the sex and then the hours-long conversation—wasn’t the beginning of us finding our way back to each other. Maybe, for her, it was closure. Or worse…revenge.
But the second the thought pops into my mind, I dismiss it. Kate still feels something for me. It’s not the love-struck, all-consuming head-over-heels feeling we had years ago, but there’s an unmistakable connection between us. Or at least, I thought there was. But maybe, I can’t read her as well as I used to. Maybe, I’m one thousand percent wrong.
I crumple into the nearby armchair, my head hanging between my legs. Last night plays on rewind in my mind, and I’m cursing myself for being lulled into thinking I had all the time in the world rather than coming right out and declaring my feelings.
“How long ago?” I ask, lifting my head to find Donna watching me.
“Two hours.”
“Damn.” I run a hand through my sopping-wet hair dripping on the floor and am sorely tempted to let a string of expletives fly, but that won’t help. The only thing to do is follow her. Now.
Keys still in hand, I rise but then stop short. Kate came here this morning. She talked to Donna before she hit the road.
I’m debating how to ask what I want to know when Donna folds her arms over her chest. “She left because she was scared.”
“She said that?”
“Of course not,” Donna bristles. “The official story is that she got all the data she needed.”
“And…” I prompt when it’s clear Donna has more she’s not sharing.
She arches an eyebrow. “And there was no reason to stay any longer in Love Beach.”
Kate didn’t feel the spark. The one that was so real I could almost touch it. I deserve every needle piercing my heart.
“She said you two didn’t talk about what happened all those years ago.” It’s not an accusation. Donna’s tone is carefully neutral, but it feels like one, thanks to the guilt racking me.
“I wanted to,” I insist, “but her boss called, and after that she seemed…distressed.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. She reported all the equipment she’d released, and he confirmed they were receiving the data, but something about the conversation seemed off. After that, it was late, and we were both worn out. She didn’t want to talk about work, and I didn’t want to press. I thought in the morning, after some rest, I could come clean about everything. I didn’t know she would leave…” I trail off, frustrated that I missed my chance.
If I’d known she was going to assume there was no reason to stay any longer in Love Beach, I would have told her the truth the second we were out of the storm. The minute I had her alone after all these years.
“You pushed her away before,” Donna says, matter-of-factly. “Just because you and I know it was because you believed it was best for Kate, it doesn’t mean she knows that. She sees what happened differently. Still does.”
Donna’s right, of course. I should have led with the truth, should’ve had the conversation before I let my cock take the lead. No wonder Kate thinks there’s no reason for her to stay. I didn’t give her one.
“I’m not making the same mistake twice,” I proclaim, spinning toward the door.
“Where are you going?”
“To make up for past mistakes.”