Chapter 13
MICHELLE: IN THE AIR TONIGHT
It was clear Scott’s abandonment wasn’t something he talked about, and I had no idea what to do with it. I’d never experienced real loss, not like that, so comforting those who’d lived through heartbreak wasn’t a skill I’d ever developed.
Who would have thought the uncomplicated guy from the gas station would carry so many hidden layers?
Depths that scared me, if I was honest, but I couldn’t just leave him sitting in that ache.
He’d carried me this far, making the plans, creating the moments that kept us moving forward. Now it was my turn.
“Come with me,” I said, tugging his hand.
“Where are you taking me?”
“I’m going to show you my world.”
He followed me out of the bar and to my car.
Because of the nature of our secret relationship, Scott couldn’t pull up to my front gate and pick me up.
We had to meet in parking lots all over the county, and then I’d usually hop into his truck and off we’d go.
But tonight I’d met him on Sunset Strip—a midpoint for us—and for once, he got in my passenger seat.
We drove until the noise of the Strip faded and the neon signs gave way to sprawling coastal houses. I parked in the driveway of a small, one-story beachfront bungalow. I didn’t have the key, but that didn’t matter. We weren’t going inside.
Kicking off my heels, I grabbed Scott’s hand and led him down a narrow path between tall hedges.
“Uh, Michelle,” he whispered, “not that I’m against trespassing, but—”
“We’re not trespassing.” I shot him a look. “This house belongs to my father.”
“Right.” Scott paused. “And if he shows up… am I running, or taking the hit?”
“My father would never get his hands bloody. And don’t worry. He doesn’t come here. No one does.”
“Then what’s the point of owning it?” he asked.
“It’s prime real estate.” I shrugged. “He bought it a few months ago. Plans to tear down the existing structure and build something new.”
“What an amazing use of extravagant wealth,” Scott mumbled.
“Am I sensing a little negativity here?”
“No, just being a sore loser.”
“Well, don’t be,” I said, leading the way. “Did I complain when you took me to Cosmic Nights at the roller rink?”
“You said you liked it.”
“I did. But only after I got used to the idea of putting on smelly two-dollar rental shoes that had been worn by thousands before me. My point is, even though I’m pretty sure I got scabies, I didn’t complain.
And we had fun. So put that negativity away, and I’ll show you a good time. Starting with… this.”
I swept my arms wide as the path opened and the beach stretched out before us. Moonlight glazed the water in a silver sheet. The surf was softer here, muted by the cove. If anyone could appreciate a quiet stretch of ocean, it was Scott.
A smile swept over him, relaxing something in me.
I finally understood why he took me to places he’d seen a hundred times before and treated them like they were new: because seeing something through someone else’s eyes does make it new.
Beaches like this had always existed in my world, and I’d taken them for granted.
But tonight, it felt different. Like maybe this place could give Scott something I couldn’t.
I took a seat in the sand, and he dropped down beside me, close enough that our shoulders brushed. We sat there listening to the waves breaking.
“I shouldn’t have said anything back there,” Scott admitted.
“Why not?”
“Because it’s not like I sit around crying about it. Shit happens. You move on. And it isn’t anyone’s business but my own.”
His words came out rougher than I think he meant.
“Am I just anyone?”
He paused, thinking… and then his smile widened. “Michelle Carver. There’s no one like you.”
“Then show me,” I said, bumping his shoulder. “Let me in a little. I promise I’ll be gentle… mostly.”
“What do you want to know?”
“Tell me something about your mom.”
He looked out at the ocean and smiled. “Shower thoughts,” he said. “She’d have them every morning.”
“Shower what?”
“Shower thoughts. You know, life’s unexplained mysteries.” He shrugged. “Every morning she’d pour me a bowl of cereal and tell me what random thought came to her in the shower. And now I carry the same gift.”
“Like what? Give me one.”
“Why don’t they build a reverse microscope so the little bacteria guys can see us clearly?”
I blinked. “Why would they need to see us?”
“I don’t know. That’s the point. Maybe if they got to know us, they’d stop trying to kill us.”
“I… guess.” I laughed, not sure if he was serious or what. “Maybe keep those thoughts to yourself. We wouldn’t want one tiny bacterium to land you in quarantine… in a padded cell.”
“Exactly why I haven’t shared them until now.”
“Thank you for trusting me with… that.” I leaned in and kissed him. “I love that your mother gave you your humor.”
“It’s weird… she’s been gone almost ten years, but she’s still with me in everything I do.
All the little stuff, the choices I make without thinking?
That’s her.” He let out a short, wistful laugh.
“Maybe she knew she wouldn’t be around long and tried to cram in every lesson she could, just so I’d have something to hold onto. ”
“That’s… actually beautiful,” I whispered, overwhelmed by the depth of him. “She would’ve been proud.”
“Eh, I haven’t done much.”
I turned to him, searching his face. “Not yet. But you will.”
A quiet moment passed. Then Scott stood, sand scattering. He peeled off his shirt, kicked free of his jeans and boxers in one economical motion, moonlight sliding over his bare skin.
“You coming?” he asked, already walking backward toward the water, eyes never leaving mine.
My pulse pounded loud enough to rival the waves. This was insane. Reckless. Exactly the kind of thing I’d always dismissed. And yet his gaze held no dare, only invitation, like he already knew I’d follow. When the surf swirled around his feet, Scott turned and dropped into the receding water.
I stood. Hands trembling, I stripped down—shirt, bra, jeans, panties—cool air rushing over my newly bare skin.
There was no dramatic sprint, just a quick, determined walk into the surf after him.
The water was colder than I’d expected, biting against my skin, and I gasped as the tide rushed around me.
Scott had watched me the whole way in, his eyes unmistakably glued to my naked body.
“Well, damn, Gold Coast. I’d pin you to my wall.”
Instinctively, I covered my breasts with my hands.
“Right next to Farrah, no doubt,” I said, the cold enough to steal my breath. “What is this arctic hell?”
“It’s the Pacific,” he said as if that explained why parts of me were going extinct in real time.
The waves rocked us together. Scott’s hands found my waist beneath the surface, steadying, and in a way, even warming me.
For a long beat we simply floated there, our breath fogging between us as the ocean nodded its approval.
Or at least until my teeth started chattering so violently I bit my lip.
It was only when blood dripped into the water that Scott took notice and hauled me toward shore.
We stumbled out, dripping, goosebumps everywhere, and ran to where our clothes were waiting in a pathetic, sandy heap. I scooped up my shirt. He grabbed his jeans. Then we both realized the same thing: our dripping bodies weren’t getting back into anything.
“Scott, I’m freezing,” I chattered, full-body tremors taking over. Even the blood on my lip froze over.
He pulled me against him and rubbed his hands up and down my wet skin, trying to bring me back to life.
I pointed at the shed under the deck. “There’s gotta be some towels in there.”
We raided it fast. The shed yielded no towels, but we emerged victorious with two enormous blankets and a pair of lounge cushions.
We hauled them up onto the deck, and while Scott gathered our wet things out of the sand, I spread the blankets across the lounger.
By the time he returned, I was already under the top blanket, shivering, my pulse still racing from the cold.
He stood over me, the full moon spotlighting his bronzed chest, carving every line and shadow until my breath caught.
It was then that I knew what I wanted. This was the line.
The place between the good, proper girl I’d been raised to be and the girl who came alive around him. My choice wasn’t a choice at all.
I peeled back the blanket, baring myself to the cool night air.
He slid in beside me, skin chilled but solid against mine.
The contact ignited us both. Scott’s fingers threaded through my damp hair, thumbs circling my temples in slow, drugging strokes that made my scalp tingle.
Salt clung to his skin, mingled with something warmer, earthier—his own clean sweat and the ocean that still lived on him.
I closed my eyes and parted my lips, leaning into the touch like a plant turning toward light.
He shifted closer. His knee slid between mine, the coarse hair on his thigh brushing the inside of mine in a slow drag that sent heat pooling low in my belly.
Our eyes locked. Scott wasn’t just looking; he was asking, waiting, giving me the last out.
My heart slammed against my ribs so hard I was sure he could feel it where our chests almost touched.
I nodded once.
His hand tipped my chin higher, and then his mouth crashed onto mine, urgent, hungry, the beer’s subtle bitterness now blooming against the salt as his tongue swept in, claiming and stroking.
I met him with equal need; my tongue curled around his, sucking gently until a low, ragged groan vibrated from his throat straight into mine, making my nipples tighten against the cool night air.