Beholden: A Small-Town Standalone Romance (Carmel Cove Book 1)

by Dr. Rebecca Sharp

  “Are you going to change and come back then?”

  He half-turned, and I couldn’t miss the way his eyes flared as they stared through the rest of my sparsely-clad form. Stripped in a blink.

  I sucked my lower lip between my teeth. Now that I wasn’t so offended by his presence, the effect he had on my body was much harder to ignore.

  His gaze left a trail of fuel as it slid up my body and the grating rasp of his voice lit the path on fire.

  “Don’t have another set of nice clothes,” he said with a low, tired voice. “Never thought I’d need a back-up. Never planned on saving you—and being puked on in return.”

  “Sorry,” I mumbled regretfully as he turned and walked toward the kitchen—probably headed for the laundry room. My tongue darted out to wet my lower lip, catching sight of how the back of his pants fit just as well as the front.

  “Don’t worry about it,” he instructed without looking back.

  When he opened the door to the garage, I turned back into the bedroom. Grabbing the other fresh set of black attire from my bag, I winced when I found the pile of my clothes from yesterday on the bathroom floor. Now the foggy memory of removing them hit me.

  Alright, I was wrong about that part—but that didn’t mean he’d saved me.

  I didn’t need a savior. I didn’t need anyone. Not then. Not now.

  I’d left Carmel at eighteen. Four years before that, Jules was sequestered from me, two years later, my parents were gone, a year after that, my grandmother, and at eighteen, Larry paid for my dream college, freeing me from this place… and from the last close family I had.

  And, to survive, I cut off the idea of home like it was a bag of sand tied to my waist. Otherwise, by the time I saw through my tears, it would have drowned me.

  No, Eli Downing hadn’t saved me. But he had brought a drunk girl home and made sure she was okay. My sigh turned into a small groan. I should be thanking him instead of poking his unreasonably muscled chest with a whisk and accusing him of trying to take advantage of me.

  This was what happened when my mind was invaded by emotions I fought to never feel.

  Longing. Grief. Desire.

  Tugging on the fresh clothes, I glanced in the mirror and ran my fingers through the red halo of waves to try to tame them. I needed to thank Eli and then move on. From him. From this place. Especially when he looked at me with a glimmer of responsibility.

  Like he needed to take care of me.

  My head throbbed and I dragged in a deep breath. He may have been a friend of my grandfather’s, but whatever their relationship was, whatever he felt like he owed, it wasn’t to me.

  Eli Downing wasn’t beholden to me.

  Eli

  Bang. Bang. Bang.

  The gunshots from the military salute rang like solemn sonic booms. Jarring breaks against calm, ocean-swept air.

  The more private crowd that gathered in the graveyard focused on the servicemen as they fired their rifles. But my gaze was solely trained on her.

  Laurel.

  We’d ridden in silence over to the funeral, her emotional and physical pain straining her delicate features. She’d hadn’t moved a muscle the entire service. Not to run. Not to cry. Hardly even to breathe.

  Nothing until this moment when she jerked as though the shots were fired directly at her, each one ripping a new hole in her heart.

  Her cropped black pants and black blouse shifting as though blown by the breeze. But I was close enough to see the wind had nothing to do with it; it was her small fortress of fortitude that shook under the assault, and my hands tightened where they remained clasped in front of me, doing everything I could to not reach over and comfort her.

  Then they were folding the casings into an American flag. A lost life reduced to three buried shots in thirteen folds.

  But when they came to present her with the folded flag, she froze, staring at the union stars with her hands handcuffed in front of her.

  The next thing I knew, I reached out, murmuring my thanks to the veteran and retrieving the flag from his outstretched hands so the service could conclude. As he walked away, I placed one hand on the small of Laurel’s back.

  “It’s alright,” I murmured to her, and we stood like that until everyone filtered back inside the church hall for the small reception.

  “How did you know him?” she asked thickly once we were alone.

  My jaw tightened as I stared at the open earth where his urn would soon be.

  “Larry helped me get on my feet… make a life here… when I moved from San Francisco,” I told her, omitting the details about why I left and the exact circumstance of my meeting Larry which were irrelevant to this conversation. “I worked at Roasters for a few years while I built my own business.”

  “I see.” She turned to face me, her expression hardened and withdrawn. “He did that for many people, though. Why does everyone look to you? Why are you here in the front row, next to me? Next to my aunt?”

  I grimaced, the truth a ball of acid in my throat. “Because I helped him,” I rasped. “Because these last few years were hard… and getting harder… and I was the one who helped him keep everything on track. I was the one who made sure everything with him and Roasters was okay.”

  And I’d failed on both accounts.

  She nodded like my presence made more sense now.

  “He was the closest thing I had to family, Laurel,” I confessed raggedly. “He treated me like family.”

  She flinched and leveled me to the ground with her stare. “He was my family,” she said tightly. “But I understand. And I’m grateful you were here for him and for everything you’ve done, Eli, but you don’t have to do this. I don’t want or need you to do this.”

  “Do what?” My eyes narrowed.

  “This.” Her throat bobbed as her hands reached out and took the flag from me. “Helping me… taking care of me… everything… whatever it is you feel like you owe me, because of him, I’m telling you, you don’t.”

  I fumed. “That’s not why I’m doing any of this, Laurel.”

  Her head jerked and she continued like she hadn’t heard me, “You don’t owe me anything, just like I don’t owe you or this town anything. There are no strings attached here. I came for his funeral and now that it’s over, I’m leaving. My aunt will get Roasters and everyone can be satisfied it’s still in a former-Ocean’s hands.”

  I reached for her shoulders so she couldn’t turn away.

  “I don’t need anyone to take care of me,” she insisted, defiantly.

  I stepped closer to her, the air growing dense with desperation and desire. “I never said you did, Laurel,” I bit out. “But is it so bad to let someone?”

  She glared at me, a wordless answer.

  “He’s gone, Laurel,” I continued with a low voice. “For both of us.” She tensed. “You’re standing here as strong as a statue, as delicate as glass, and just as stubborn as your grandfather. I can’t imagine what this is like for you, but I won’t apologize for trying to help. It’s okay to lean on someone every once in a while.”

  “No,” she choked out as her face splintered with sharp hurt. “No, it’s not okay, Eli. My grandfather may have taught you a lot, but let me give you a tip he probably left out—the second you lean on someone, they disappear out from under you.”

  “Well, let me give you a little tip,” I shot right back, my grip tightening, seeing the swell of grief inside her, too scared to break free. “I’m more stubborn than you damn Oceans, and I’m not going anywhere.”

  Her stance faltered. Her blue eyes grew dark and stormy and drifted down from mine to lock on my lips that had dared to utter such a promise as she swayed against me. Part of her wanted this. Part of her wanted support. Someone else to help her bear the weight.

  Part of her wanted me.

  “You’re right.” She nodded. “But I am,” she informed me hollowly as the other parts of her, bruised and battered with fear, won out. “Back to L.A. And as soo
n as possible.”

  And then she turned and broke from my grasp, heading inside with the flag clasped to her chest as though it were a life raft.

  Swallowing a whole string of curses that I wouldn’t let loose in front of the dead—especially when they were in regards to his exquisitely mesmerizing but extremely frustrating granddaughter—I squeezed my eyes shut and pinched the bridge of my nose.

  What the hell was I going to do?

  She was running. To nowhere. To no one. And I wanted her to run to me.

  “You alright, Eli?”

  My eyes popped open to see Ash Tyler approach. Another broken man who Larry had provided solace.

  Ash had moved out here about six months ago with a severe alcohol problem and several ghosts that haunted him. Larry had given him a place to stay, a place to work, and, most importantly, a weekly Alcoholics Anonymous meeting to attend until he got his addiction under control.

  I screened my expression. Larry had been his sponsor—his savior. And, like most of us, Ash had taken his loss hard. I wouldn’t let my troubles add to that. I would hold it together for everyone else.

  “Yeah.” I nodded quickly.

  “You sure?” He looked at me skeptically. “You don’t look okay.”

  I speared my fingers through my hair, finally admitting, “Just struggling to help Laurel.”

  Ash’s jaw ticked. “The hardest people to help are those who don’t want it.”

  God, if that wasn’t the truth.

  I flinched as his hand gripped my shoulder in comfort. “I know, I just—”

  “This isn’t your fault, Eli,” he cut me off. “None of it. Not Larry, and not what happens to Laurel.”

  I felt the grip around my heart tightening, every beat of my pulse calling him a liar.

  “You know when Taylor showed up on your doorstep asking for help?” I asked, alluding to the scene a few months ago when Ash’s now-girlfriend appeared on his doorstep, pregnant and needing a place to stay.

  He nodded.

  “That’s how I feel right now. Only, Laurel isn’t asking for help, she’s fighting to leave when she has no place to go.” I exhaled raggedly. “More than that. She’s fighting all of this,” I told him. “We’ve all cried. We’ve all mourned. God, Ash, I haven’t seen a single tear from her.”

  His brow furrowed. “We don’t know her. Maybe her relationship with him… wasn’t good,” he suggested. “I mean, she hasn’t come home in so long…”

  I shook my head. He was wrong. I knew it like I knew the sun set in the west.

  “Even if you’re right.” He paused and sighed. “You can’t help her if she won’t take it. Just like you couldn’t help him.”

  I shrugged away from him with a low growl.

  Maybe that was why this bothered me so much. Selfishly, I wanted to help Laurel because I couldn’t help her grandfather. Not out of obligation, but absolution.

  “Maybe leaving is what will help her.”

  I swallowed hard. “I hope that’s not the case.”

  “Why?”

  “Because there are two very large obstacles she can’t just leave behind,” I told him. “And she doesn’t know about them yet.”

  Laurel

  I still felt the burn where Eli’s hand pressed on my lower back out by the grave—as though even when he wasn’t next to me, he was still supporting me.

  I didn’t want to take comfort in having him stand next to me during the service. I didn’t want to take comfort in him accepting the flag because I was frozen with fear at the finality of the action. And even now, I was only moving steadily because of the ibuprofen Eli had unceremoniously instructed I take before leaving my grandfather’s house this morning.

  It was so tempting to lean on him.

  So tempting to cling to him.

  So, I pushed back. Harshly, but out of necessity.

  “Laurel?” I turned to face kind green eyes and a small smile attached to a petite yet very pregnant woman. “I’m Taylor Hastings, Ash’s girlfriend. I don’t know if you’ve met him yet, but he was very close with your grandfather.”

  “It’s nice to meet you, and I don’t think I’ve met Ash, though I can’t be sure,” I returned as kindly as I could. “These last few days have been—”

  I broke off with an ‘oomph’ as she pulled me in for a hug and consoled, “I’m so sorry for your loss.”

  “Thank you.”

  She drew back, asking, “Will you be in town for long? We’re opening a restaurant in a few weeks right on the coast. I know…” She paused. “I know it would mean a lot to Ash for you to be there. He’s… umm… dedicating it to Larry.”

  Of course, he was, I thought blindly as the guilt creeped in like a black fog. Everyone else seemed to have an outlet for their grief except me.

  “I don’t think I’ll be here. I have to leave. I have to get back…”

  “I understand.” She nodded solemnly.

  “Congratulations,” I offered, nodding to her stomach, and eager to change the topic to anything else.

  “Thank you.” She beamed, her hands resting on her bump. “Would you believe I thought it was the end of the world when I found out?” My eyes widened at her unexpected confession. “I was so afraid; it wasn’t how I thought my life was going to go.” Yet her smile widened. “I came here afraid to face my family, terrified of my future, and fully prepared to follow this path alone. But then being here…”

  My breath lodged in my throat. Her story was nothing like mine. Yet it resonated in the deepest parts of me.

  “What?” I heard myself press.

  “It changed everything. Letting Ash in. Letting myself lean on him, trust him to take care of me. Take care of us.” She chuckled and wiped a stray tear from the corner of her eye, clearly so in love with the man she spoke about. “I didn’t expect anything from this place, and here I am, just a few months later, with more than anything I could’ve asked for.”

  My throat constricted. My heart pounded in my chest, beating against its cage for me to let it out—to let it feel.

  But her story wasn’t mine. Her story started here, and here was where mine would end.

  “That’s really wonderful. I’m happy for the two—three of you,” I said unsteadily, noting the twinge of jealousy that bloomed. “I wish you all the best.”

  “Thank you.” She wrapped her arms around me once more and murmured, “I wish you all the best, too, Laurel. Wherever that is…”

  Her genuine goodwill warmed me, and I found myself hugging her back, a stranger I’d just met, feeling as though we’d been friends for some time.

  But that was how loss worked—it exposed vulnerabilities that linked people in ways others took years to find.

  When she walked away, I caught Eli’s gaze from the other side of the room. He stood next to a blonde male, both men watching our conversation intently. A second later, I realized why when Taylor approached and the man, who must be Ash, pulled her comfortingly to his side.

  I looked away.

  I didn’t like when he watched me because he was the only one who really saw me. Eli was the only one who could see the sadness seeping through my clothes and skin, soaking into my lungs and heart. And he was just waiting for the second I showed signs of drowning so he could jump in and save me.

  Swallowing hard, I turned and walked to a table in the corner where Diane set a small plate of food for me. With a sad smile permanently etched into my face, I was a synchronized swimmer in an ocean of loss, going through every choreographed motion that the crowd expected from me.

  “Laurel,” Diane called softly as she approached and slid into the chair next to me. “I wanted to introduce you to Mr. Gavin Ross.” She turned and motioned for a tall gentleman in an expensively-cut suit to come and take a seat in the remaining empty chair. I pegged him for some kind of professional—and I was right. “He is the attorney handling Larry’s last will,” she explained. “Mr. Ross, this is Larry’s granddaughter, Laurel Ocean.”
<
br />   “Miss Ocean, I’m so sorry about your grandfather,” he offered with a smooth voice, one I imagined would be pleasant to listen to even as he argued a case in court.

  “Thank you,” I murmured. “Please, just call me Laurel.”

  I shivered as warmth crawled up my spine and my eyes flicked to the ember eyes absorbing my every expression. I wanted to scream that just because I might have gotten a little too drunk last night and needed a ride home, needed someone to get me into bed after I threw up on him twice and ruined his only suit, and needed him to take me to the funeral this morning, didn’t mean I needed anything else from him.

  “Laurel,” he began with a tight business-like smile, “I know that this is a very hard time for you, but I wanted to make you aware of the main stipulations in your grandfather’s will since I know you live in Los Angeles. I wanted you to be able to make plans accordingly.”

  What was he talking about?

  I folded my arms. “I appreciate that, but I’m not sure what I need to plan for…”

  He glanced at Diane and a sense of foreboding drifted over me.

  “Miss—Laurel.” He cleared his throat with a nervous twitch, looking side to side, before leaning forward and informing me, as though it were the greatest secret, “Your grandfather left his personal property on Coastline Drive to you, as well as the Ocean Roasters business and building.”

  My mouth dropped open like a fist had closed around my throat, gaping and sputtering at the news I couldn’t believe I was hearing—that I couldn’t believe was true.

  “I-I’m sorry,” I stammered. “Did you… he did… what?”

  I dragged my gaze to Diane but found no comfort in her expression.

  I hadn’t heard wrong.

  But just in case, Mr. Ross repeated, “It’s okay. I know this is a lot right now, but I heard you might be leaving soon, so I had to let you know that Larry left it all to you, Laurel.” His hands clasped tightly on the table as his lips tightened. “I have the deeds to the properties at my office in town that I can bring to you, or if you’d like to pick them up, I’ll just have a few papers for you to sign as well.”