by Brooks, Abby
Chapter Nineteen
Cat
The sun burned down on us, heat baking the sand beneath our feet as we crossed from The Hut to the dock—a long line of scorched wood, bleached almost white with time, extending into clear blue water. Harlow scurried ahead while the rest of us followed behind, picking up her bare feet with each step and wincing at the heat.
“Seattle has made you weak,” Eli said to her as he strolled onto the dock.
“Yeah, well, you’re still the same old you,” Harlow replied with a toss of her hair and a glint in her eye.
Caleb leaned into Eli and fake whispered, “She’s calling you an asshole.”
The Huttons tossed sarcasm around like candy, giving as good as they got. I watched as they climbed onto a large boat, never breaking the flow of conversation. Lucas followed his siblings, then turned and offered me his hand. When his skin touched mine, that rolling thunder feeling of excitement soared through me, but I swallowed it down.
“Thank you,” I said, glancing his way.
“No problem.” He smiled and I smiled and he stared and I stared and Wyatt burst out laughing, breaking the spell as he dropped a hand on Lucas’ shoulder.
“Keep it professional now,” he said, then went to work helping Caleb with ropes and anchors and all kinds of nautical stuff that made little sense to me.
I blushed, but Lucas caught my eye and winked. Last night, I thought he hated me. Today, it looked like we were going to be friends. If he didn’t slow down with the mood swings, I was going to get whiplash.
Caleb started the boat and navigated us away from the dock, the rumble of the engine and the smell of gasoline mixing with the briny air. Despite the heat, the weather was perfect. I stared out to sea, the wind blowing through my hair. It was vast and beautiful, and peace settled into my heart, lightening the load on my shoulders.
How did people manage to spend their entire lives blocked off from nature? I was born to be outside. Healing hid in the wind, the sound of the birds, the lap of water against the boat. My mind turned to Skywalker, certain he would find a way to turn my clumsy thought into poetry. He would understand something I could only feel and transform those feelings into words I would read over and over and over again, sighing and smiling and content.
I almost grabbed my phone to snap a picture for him, but I looked up to find Lucas watching me. When my gaze brushed his, he grinned and then turned his attention to Eli, who was halfway through a story about the time Harlow found a litter of abandoned kittens and brought them home in the basket on her bike. I put my phone away.
“I thought Dad was gonna lose his mind,” Eli said, “but you and Mom bottle fed those things and basically brought them back from the dead. You remember?”
Harlow gathered her hair into a ponytail and wrapped a hair tie around it. “Oh, I remember. I wanted to keep one so badly. But Dad put his foot down.”
“He used the possibility of guests with allergies as his foolproof logic for why he was right and you were wrong, didn’t he?” Eli asked. A muscle in his jaw ticked and he ran a hand through his hair.
Harlow nodded. “He did.”
“He had a point,” Caleb countered.
Eli rolled his eyes. “He also had a God complex.”
“No arguing there.” Caleb let out a long breath and gave his attention back to the water.
Silence fell between the siblings and smiles faded from faces. I dropped my gaze to my lap, fiddling with the hem of my coverup. It appeared we had stumbled out of pleasant memories and into the kind that latched on to feet and ankles and pulled my new friends downward, quicksand dragging them into an abyss. The siblings sunk in on themselves and I wondered what, if anything, I should say.
“Our dad passed away last month,” Lucas explained, his voice tense. “It’s why we’re all here. Back in the Keys. Mom needs our help.” His jaw ticked like Eli’s and something glinted in his eyes, something dark and terrible. There was more to this story and I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear it.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” I said.
“Don’t be.” Eli stared at the horizon. “We’re not.”
“Eli!” Harlow admonished, her eyes going wide as she looked from him to me and back again.
“What?” Eli held out his hands then let them drop. “I’m just saying what we’re all thinking. Besides, it’s better if Cat hears it from us, rather than anyone else.”
Lucas explained, obviously giving me only as much as I needed to understand. Burke Hutton had been a good father…until he wasn’t.
He started making money, and then started drinking, proceeding to ruin the family he’d worked so hard to build. The kids scattered as soon as they could, hurt and confused and wearing the kind of scars that rip through a heart and soul—the kind that come when love was given and then taken away without reason or explanation. The kind that leaves you wondering what would make someone wonderful stop looking at you like the whole damn world lived in your eyes. I sucked in my lips and sent a silent fuck you to Nash.
“So, yeah,” Wyatt said. “How about we stop depressing Cat and focus on where we are instead of where we’ve been?” He gestured toward the front of the boat as Caleb navigated us into a cove filled with the bluest water I had ever seen. White sand glistened on the beach as waves lapped against the shore. Palm trees drooped, their fronds swaying in the breeze.
I gaped at the view and the Huttons chuckled at my awestruck expression. Caleb killed the engine and before the boat had drifted to a stop, Wyatt yanked his shirt over his head and dove into the water. He broke the surface, shaking water out of his hair, droplets sparkling in the sun. “What are you waiting for? Get in here!”
Eli and Caleb followed suit, removing shirts and jumping in. Caleb dropped in feet first while Eli tucked into a ball and landed next to Wyatt, splashing water in his brother’s face. Lucas stood and pulled his shirt over his head, exposing a muscular torso with scars speckled along his side, disappearing into his swim trunks, and reappearing on one leg.
He held out his hand and I dragged my gaze up to his face. “You coming?” he asked. He had caught me staring at the scars, but didn’t call me on it. He didn’t explain either, and we didn’t know each other well enough for me to ask, even though I wanted to.
“Of course I’m coming,” I said. “Life is made for the doers and the movers.” I placed my hand in his and a flicker of something flashed across his face. I wasn’t sure what it was, but like everything he did, it overwhelmed me and made me want more at the same time I just wished I could take one complete breath.
He helped me stand, then removed his hand from mine. “I agree one hundred percent.”
Lucas caught my gaze and raised an eyebrow, before diving off the side of the boat, disappearing under the water, then reappearing with a shake of his head. He slicked his hair back from his face, then crooked a finger at me, beckoning for me to follow.
I took a moment to appreciate the view in the cove and the brothers horse-playing before dropping in. The cool water shocked my warm skin. The rush of bubbles danced across my face, muffling my hearing. I stayed under as my hair floated around me, a moment of weightless solitude, then broke the surface and found myself face to face with Lucas.
“Hi,” he said.
“Hi,” I replied, and somehow the moment felt more real than anything I’d experienced to date.
We played in the water like children, splashing and swimming and racing and teasing. We snorkeled and skied, both of which I’d never done before. Lucas proved to be a patient and eloquent teacher. While I started both endeavors feeling nervous, by the time we finished, I was confident in my ability not to die. When we got tired, we climbed back into the boat. The men shook their hair out next to their sister, spraying her with water while she gasped and shrieked and goosebumps pebbled along her arms.
We ate a simple lunch and I stretched out next to Lucas as the salt dried on our skin. We chatted easily, the strange tension between us fading, until my curiosit
y got the better of me. “Where did these come from?” I asked, lightly running a finger along one of the many scars on his torso.
He flinched away from my touch, his face darkening as he pushed into a sitting position.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “It’s none of my business.”
“It really isn’t.” His voice was clipped and his gaze was distant, as if the hours we’d spent building a friendship today hadn’t happened at all.
I felt myself go red from head to toe and sat up, tucking my knees to my chest while I leaned back on my hands and stared at the horizon. His reaction embarrassed me. Again, apparently I’d misjudged how he felt about me. Or, maybe I’d overstepped the boundaries of friendship. Whatever injury caused those scars must still ache beneath the surface. I shouldn’t have asked.
“Hey.” Lucas shifted closer to me. “I’m sorry,” he said as bumped his shoulder against mine. “I don’t like talking about it, is all.”
“I get it. It’s none of my business.” I tossed him a smile.
A breeze whispered in his hair and his eyes—as blue as the water yet more vibrant—caught mine. He stared, his gaze steady. “No. You’re fine, Cat. I overreacted.”
I swallowed hard, my lips parting while that still-small voice stood up inside me and roared: THIS!
“What? Lucas overreacted?” Caleb plopped down next to us and as much as I liked the guy, I wanted him to go away because whatever that voice inside me had to say disappeared the moment he arrived. “Hey! Did you guys hear that? Lucas overreacted about something!”
Lucas rolled his eyes as Wyatt joined us. “Let me guess,” Wyatt said to me. “You asked about his scars.”
Horrified by the direction the conversation was headed, I looked for something, anything to say to diffuse the situation. If Lucas didn’t want to talk about what happened to him, the last thing I wanted was for his brother to tease him into sharing. I stammered, but Lucas interrupted.
“Did you know I’m a Marine?” he asked me.
I shook my head. “I didn’t.” Though that bit of information explained so much about him, the intensity and harsh demeanor that juxtaposed his good nature.
Lucas took a long breath in and let it out. “Last year, in Afghanistan, a series of bombs ended my career.”
“Almost ended his life.” Wyatt smiled at his brother, a mixture of pride and sadness softening his eyes.
Caleb leaned in. “It did end his life. He actually was dead for two minutes and it was touch and go for a while after that. Mom was beside herself. We all were.”
A rush started in my belly and roared through my head as I absorbed the information. “He died last year?” I stared at Lucas with wide eyes while Skywalker’s words screamed at me.
I died last year. I came back, obviously. And I wasn’t dead long. But there were times, especially at first, that I wished I’d stayed wherever it was I went…
“Yep. But Lucas here is a fighter…”
…Coming back was hard. It changed everything. I realized how fragile we all are. I realized that so much of what we cherish means nothing in the end. I was alone through a lot of my recovery and I kept wondering why I was fighting so hard. Why battle through it all when I had nothing to battle for…?
“…he made it back to us and earned himself one hell of a nickname.”
My heart pounded its way up my throat. Could it be? Was this him? Were Lucas and Skywalker somehow the same person? That couldn’t be possible. Skywalker was in Galveston.
Wasn’t he?
“Enough with the nickname already.” Lucas tried to look annoyed, but he was too busy cataloging my reaction. His eyes flicked around my face. He licked his lips. Tilted his head.
His words came to me as if I was still underwater. They were heavy and thick, distorted and full of echoes. I swear to God, if they call him Skywalker…
“Oh, come on.” Wyatt grinned. “How can you not love being called the Bionic Man?”
“Wait.” Eli appeared over Wyatt’s shoulder. “I thought we called him Robocop.”
While the brothers laughed and the conversation moved on, I fought my breath back under control. As they explained his injuries, his stay in a hospital in Germany, and his subsequent honorable discharge, I hid a minor mental breakdown.
How dumb was I? How could I have thought Lucas was Skywalker, even for a second? Skywalker was in Texas, not Florida. Skywalker was open and poetic, while Lucas was closed and confusing and intense. The only thing the two men had in common was the fact that they died sometime last year.
That, and…
…well…
…me.
Chapter Twenty
Cat
We returned home later that night, sunburned and exhausted. I hauled my tired body upstairs and let myself into my room, replaying bits and pieces of the day with the Huttons. Harlow’s confidence with her brothers. Eli’s easy conversation. Caleb’s hulking strength. Wyatt’s constant smile.
And then there was Lucas…
I had never known someone as intense as that man. Friendly one minute. Withdrawn the next. Though, perhaps, given what I had learned about what happened to him in Afghanistan, I should cut the man some slack. An experience like that didn’t just leave scars on the body. His soul had to be still healing as well.
My skin itched with dried saltwater, and sand had made its way into places I hadn’t known existed until today. After a long shower, I pulled on a clean pair of shorts and a tank top and plopped into bed.
Lately, I’d been wondering more and more about what Skywalker looked like. Did he have the same broad shoulders and bronze skin as Lucas? Or was he more refined, less warrior-like? Did his wisdom show in his eyes? Did he walk around radiating an inner light that put people at ease? Or did his deep thoughts make him unnerving in that way intelligent people sometimes have?
In my mind, I started putting together a Pinterest board of features that might belong to Skywalker. I focused on the eyes, strong and piercing, with a quick intelligence glimmering in his gaze. Then his shoulders, broad and capable of holding me up when I fell down.
I leaned back in my bed, burrowing my head into a pillow, and let my mind wander around my favorite parts of a masculine body, formulating the perfect image of my mystery man. As the picture grew clearer, I remembered Skywalker’s note in my journal:
If I could spend one night with you, I would trace my fingers along your body as you quivered beneath me. I would taste you and tease you, gripping your waist while you arched your back. I would run my hands along your thighs, lower my face, and lick and suck until you screamed my name. You’d forget the world in your ecstasy and then I’d make love to you while you came and came and came.
I would ruin you for any other man, but you would have all the words you could possibly need to describe the sensation. There would be no more gray and ash and boredom. There would be heat so vibrant, the world would catch fire. Your body would be my temple and I would be your savior and you would never feel like an obligation again.
Much to my immense surprise, my numb lower regions sputtered to life. I closed my eyes and slid a hand down my stomach, imagining the coarse skin of a man’s hand brushing across my most sensitive parts.
…lower…
…lower…
…lower…
My lips parted and I sighed as my body responded with a definitive hell yes! Hope bloomed in my chest. We might actually get somewhere tonight! I settled deeper into my bed, letting my mind run away with the perfect image of a man, one who would satisfy every secret desire I’d ever had. Blonde hair and tan skin, that was a given. A strong torso, something powerful and hard.
I imagined trailing my fingers across his muscled flesh and smiled as I traced one of the scars mottling his hips…
My eyes flew open and the heat building in my core simmered away. I wasn’t thinking about Skywalker anymore. Those scars belonged to Lucas!
That was one hundred percent unacceptable. I couldn’t tou
ch myself, knowing he was just on the other side of the wall…
Maybe stretched out in his bed…
Maybe wearing nothing but a pair of gray sweatpants…
Or maybe wearing nothing at all…
And just like that, the fire flared hotter than it had in the last year or two. Or three. Or maybe ever before.
I settled back into my bed, letting my hands travel over my body, urging my mental image of Skywalker away from Lucas. I was wrong to choose a blonde. That’s where things went off track. With the hair.
I envisioned dark hair, with sharp green eyes that missed nothing. A full beard. Maybe a tattoo. No…two tattoos. One on his arm and one on his back.
Perfect.
I urged my body forward, testing new waters with my mysterious stranger and his strong, proud cock, capable of the most illicit torture. I imagined him dominating me, throwing me to the bed and ravaging my body, then inviting me on top to take it slow and ride out wave after wave of pleasure at my leisure.
My body responded to the image and I kept my fingers busy, teasing and playing, drawing up feeling and sensation where I thought none would ever exist again. In the other room, I heard the rattle of Lucas’ headboard against our shared wall as he climbed into bed. A tense moan slipped past my clenched teeth.
He was right there.
So close.
Nothing but drywall separating us.
And maybe he was touching himself, too…
And that was the end of that.
I slid my hand out of my underwear and pushed myself into a sitting position. What, in the name of everything holy, was I doing? Lucas was hot, no doubt. And he would be perfect masturbation fodder, if I wasn’t already trying to think about someone else. Someone who had been so kind to me, so sweet and sincere.
Oh God! What if I had managed to finish? Talk about awkward. The one time in how many years I managed to find an orgasm, and it was only after imagining Lucas Hutton touching himself.
Shame burned in my cheeks and I glanced at the wall separating us, as if he could somehow know what had almost happened in my room. Blowing a puff of air past my lips, I stood and paced my small room, suddenly filled with frustrated energy. I had been so close. So. Close.
