Kill Devil Hills: A Complete Beach Romance Series (4-Book Box Set)

by Sarah Darlington

  From the couch, I watched them—neither had noticed me yet. Once, a few years back, I heard one of Ellie’s girlfriends refer to her as, “butch in the streets, femme in the sheets.” I was not sure what that meant, if it had been a compliment or not, but I took it as…Ellie sure looked the part of a masculine lesbian—all macho and swagger, short hair and tattoos—but deep down she was a sweetheart. Kind, caring, and loving. As for Noah…well, no point in denying it, the guy was all man.

  His golden, sun-bleached hair was just long enough to tie back haphazardly into a ponytail at the nape of his neck, little pieces always falling loose. He had brown eyes and a strong jawline, rivaling someone like Brad Pitt. Sometimes he shaved, but not today. His shoulders were wide enough to fill a door and I had a fleeting image—one scarred on my cortex—of the way his muscular chest looked shirtless. Holy hell! The guy was a delicious cross between a California surfer, a mountain man, and Thor, and I tried to keep my eyes glued on the TV. Really, I did. But still, my cheeks burned, and my wild, ridiculous thoughts would not stop. I’d been hoping that seeing him in person after four months would squash these unwanted feelings. Maybe being locked away at an all-girls facility caused me to over-glorify and hype him up to more than he was. But nope. Noah Clark was just as striking in person as he was in all my late-night fantasies.

  Crap on a crap-stick. I dug my fingernails into my jeans. He and Ellie still hadn’t noticed me sitting there, and I didn’t want to be blushing or hyperventilating when they did.

  I’d always found Noah to be attractive, even during his high-school emo/Goth phase when his hair was dyed black and he wore combat boots in the summer. But I’d never seriously considered him, because truthfully, I’d been a little scared (and a lot intimidated) of the guy. He was almost six years older than me and not much of a talker. He had the whole brooding ‘I-hate-the-world’ thing down perfectly. But that same tormented oddball had also done everything in his power to save my life when it had mattered most. So yeah…now, and over the past few months, I suddenly found myself seriously considering him. I wanted to know who Noah Clark really was. What did my sister know that the rest of the world didn’t?

  To make my insane crush worse, I still technically, kinda-sorta had a boyfriend. Logan Tyler. We hadn’t spoken in almost four months, but we hadn’t officially broken up yet either. That would be corrected soon, but still. Either way, I shouldn’t have been thinking about Noah in any capacity, especially when he was standing six feet away from me.

  “Hello. Earth to Georgie!” Ellie called out, pulling me out of my thoughts and back into the present. She was the last person on the planet to still call me Georgie and that used to bother me, but as she bear-tackled me against the couch—the first person to hug me this tight in months—I found myself wondering why I used to always fight her so much on something as stupid as a name. She tickled me until I was crying ‘uncle,’ then she let up. “It’s good to have you home, kiddo. Did Mom make you want to slit your wrists all over again on the drive home?”

  The smallest exhale of air came from Noah, a sound I might have missed if Ellie hadn’t reacted immediately to it.

  “What?” she asked him, as if he’d managed to shock her. She turned around on the couch to face where he stood. “Is it too soon for jokes, Mr. Sensitive? Lighten up, Georgie’s fine.”

  He didn’t answer her, but his eyes found mine. He gave me a simple look, one that likely meant nothing, but my heart slammed inside my chest nonetheless. And for a fraction of a second, it was as if the two of us shared something the rest of the world didn’t have privilege to. I had no idea what the hell that something was, and it didn’t matter anyway, because my small moment with Noah evaporated as fast as it began. His face turned expressionless as his gaze shifted to Rose’s TV program.

  “Okay,” Mom shouted from the kitchen. “Dinner’s ready. Everybody go sit so we can eat.”

  Ellie gave my knee a little squeeze, staying behind with me on the couch for a moment as everyone else went to sit around the dining room table. “I shouldn’t be worried about you, right? Or was it too soon for jokes?” she whispered, being serious for once in her life.

  I shrugged. “I don’t know, but I like how you’ve treated me normally since everything happened.”

  She nodded, looking sullen for exactly one second before a wicked grin filled her face. “This is going to be the best freaking summer of your life,” she whispered, excitement in her voice. “You’re eighteen now. You’re finally done with stupid high school. You can do whatever the hell you want—except drink, but that’s just a technicality—and I’m going to make it my personal mission this summer to ensure that every single day you wake up regretting taking that knife to your pretty skin. Just stick with me and Noah, and you’ll learn that the world can bend if you need it to. Rule Number One: There are no rules. Nothing is black and white.”

  I gulped. I had no idea what she was talking about, and honestly, it kind of scared the crap out of me. But for the way she was smiling, I wanted to trust whatever it was she was saying. And if sticking with her meant sticking with Noah, how was I supposed to turn down that small opportunity?

  “Sure,” I answered, “I could do that.”

  “Good. Now come and try my macaroni and cheese. I microwaved the pasta before I cooked it. It’s supposed to make it better. Except the recipe never called for it to catch on fire…so I’m hoping that just added more flavor.”

  I couldn’t help but smile. One of the things I learned at The Cove was to gravitate toward the ‘real’ people in my life—the people who would love and support me no matter what. To lean on them, trust in them, confide in them, and let them become an ‘ally’ to me. Before Ben’s death, I hadn’t given my family any of my love. I’d saved it all up for my friends at school, Logan, and the things I used to think mattered. Ellie and I had never been very close, at least not during my teenage years, because I’d never given her much of a chance. She was a lesbian, with a crazy number of tattoos, and had a best friend who looked like he belonged in a motorcycle gang—hanging out with her would have been social suicide. No pun intended. But I vowed right then, that I would never again judge my sister based on those things. And I wouldn’t stand by and listen when others judged her based on those things anymore either.

  I sat down at the table, purposely avoiding glancing in Noah’s direction because he only made breathing difficult, and loaded a heaping pile of Ellie’s macaroni onto my plate. It had some white flakes in it that probably came from the fire extinguisher, but I spooned a giant bite into my mouth anyway.

  “This is amazing,” I said, because surprisingly it was. “Best welcome home meal ever, Ellie.”

  She laughed and took my compliment.

  * * *

  The rest of the meal passed okay…and by okay I mean boring and awkward. Ellie and Mom tended to argue and neither spoke, probably both trying to make an effort for me. I actually wouldn’t have minded if they’d argued, because that would have felt more normal than the silence. Then there was Rose. She sat through the entire dinner with earbuds in. It shocked the hell out of me that neither of my parents made her take them out. Noah was Noah—quiet like usual. And Dad…well, he tried really hard to make conversation. He spoke first about the warm weather and then about some of the vacation rentals he managed. But no one took the bait and joined his conversation, and soon he gave up. The silence was deafening.

  The problem for me was…the last time we’d had a big family dinner like this was when Ben had been alive. I’d had four months to come to grips with my brother’s death, and it still hurt like hell. But I never anticipated how excruciating it would be to do normal things like this without him. Well, even if he were still alive, the odds were that he wouldn’t have been having dinner with us and at this table anyway, but I hated knowing he wasn’t having dinner anywhere in the world right now. The enthusiasm I’d felt with Ellie minutes ago faded as fast as she’d created it. I quickly finished the rest of
my meal. Even Noah’s good looks weren’t enough to distract away my heavy heart.

  “This meal was great,” I told everyone and the silent room. “I think I’m going to go unpack. If that’s okay?” They all stared at me as I stood up. Even Noah.

  “Okay,” Mom answered. “A new Netflix movie came in the mail yesterday. I figured we could all watch it together in a little while. What do you think?”

  “Sure,” I said, appeasing her as fast as possible so I could leave the room. I took my plate to the sink, rinsing it and putting it in the dishwasher, and then hurried upstairs to my room. I needed to unpack.

  And to cry.

  CHAPTER 3

  NOAH

  I couldn’t make sense of Georgie’s happy demeanor and then her sudden need to leave the dinner table. Whatever. I reminded myself that my fixation on her well-being could end right the fuck now. The girl was still currently breathing—the proof right in front of my eyes. So, I could stop worrying and stressing liked I’d been doing non-stop over the last few months.

  I still had flashbacks of that night. I’d been through shittier things in my life, but somehow the images of her lifeless body and slit wrists would not stop haunting me. It was annoying and frustrating. I hoped now that she was home, I’d improve. Because, in all seriousness, it was just plain pissing me off at this point, and I wanted my regular life to resume.

  On the upside of things, the girl did look healthier—color in her cheeks, and if I wasn’t mistaken, a few extra pounds on her hips. Georgie had always been too damn skinny. But, despite her loose jeans and oversized long-sleeve shirt, the little extra weight looked unexpectedly good on her. It gave my chest a weird expanding sensation that I wasn’t quite used to feeling. She was a beautiful girl, no mistaking that, and I assured myself that the feeling in my chest was a natural reaction any warm-blooded male would experience in her presence. It meant nothing. Less than nothing.

  I focused on eating dinner and when that was over, I followed Ellie to her old room on the lower level. Her room was decked out in twinkle lights, as it had been for as long as I’d known her, and it gave everything a psychedelic feel. She plopped down on her swivel chair beside her desk and spun in a full circle. “So—bad news. I need you to fire Patrick tomorrow.”

  “What?” I sat on the edge of her bed, resting my elbows on my knees. “Why?”

  She avoided eye contact, turning another full circle. “He stole from the cash register. I caught him in the act.”

  Grabbing the chair’s arm rests, I put a stop to her incessant spinning and forced her to look in my direction. “What the hell, Ellie? Why didn’t you fire him the moment it happened?”

  “I wanted to—seriously, I did. But Patrick gave me the saddest puppy-dog eyes. I couldn’t do it. I need you to be the bad cop. I’m the good cop.”

  “We aren’t cops.”

  Now Ellie gave me sad puppy-dog eyes and the cutest frown crossed her pink lips. I was such a sucker when it came to this girl. I’d do anything for her, as I know she’d do for me, and I couldn’t help but give in.

  “Fuck. Fine. I’ll do it tomorrow.”

  Ellie stood up and playfully flung her arms around my neck. “I love you, Noah Clark. You’re too good to me.”

  “Yeah, yeah.” I smiled, letting her hug me for a small second before peeling her arms off me. “Let’s go watch whatever Netflix movie your mom got in the mail for tonight.”

  “Really?” she asked, her eyes searching my face for something she wasn’t going to find. “You know, it’s probably a chick-flick or something equally lame. You don’t have to stay. I’m going to, but it’s cool if you want to leave.”

  I didn’t mind staying, and she already knew that. Any other day, ‘pre-Georgie-incident,’ she wouldn’t have questioned me either. I’d never had the warm, loving, Leave it to Beaver family that she did. I had a shitty one instead. And when Ellie and I became friends, way back in the ninth grade, and she found out about my jacked-up home life, she’d automatically shared her family with me. She was only questioning me right now because of the timing and because I’d asked about her sister a few too many times over the last four months. But so fucking what if I was concerned for Georgie and wanted to stay at her house a little longer because of that? So fucking what?

  “Nah, I want to stay,” I told Ellie.

  “Okay.” She shrugged, letting it go as quickly as she’d brought it up. “Whatever. Dibs on the recliner.”

  “Not if I get there first.” I sprang for the bedroom door and then for the stairs. Ellie was small, but fast and never one to back down from a challenge. She chased after me. We were neck-and-neck, rushing up the stairs, but the moment we reached the top, both of us mellowed and our fun died. Even after four months, the somber atmosphere from Ben’s death still lingered in the Turner house. I knew Ellie was sad over what happened to Ben, and also everything with Georgie, but my friend was the most optimistic person on the planet, and I could also tell she was ready to be happy again. The problem was her family was still tangled deep in the grieving process. Or at least that was the impression I got.

  Ellie graciously let me have the recliner, while she took a seat on the couch by Rose. Mr. and Mrs. Turner passed out little bowls of popcorn and occupied the loveseat together. We were waiting on Georgie to join us, but she never did. And that bothered me. This whole ‘caring thing’ was new to me and that bothered me too. I mean, obviously I cared for Ellie and so by default I cared for her family, but I wasn’t used to the protectiveness I felt for Georgie. What the fuck? I thought having her home would end my worrying. So far it had only doubled it.

  Mrs. Turner left the room to go check on her. And almost as quickly as she disappeared, she returned. “Georgina’s sleeping,” she explained, her voice light but the lines on her brow became more pronounced as she spoke. “Why don’t you go ahead and start the movie, Wade? I think I’m going to get some shut-eye myself. It’s getting late and the six hours we spent in the car is getting to me.”

  Wade Turner was a strange and complicated man. He often said contradictory things at inopportune moments, spoke an octave louder than most, and his jokes were about as dry as Ellie’s macaroni and cheese. For years I’d been certain he hated me. But after saving his daughter’s life, I’d learned otherwise. We’d had a heart-to-heart, in this very room, where he’d thanked me and hugged me, and I think I understood him a little better now. His sarcasm was hard to read and often came across as insincere, but he loved his children fiercely…and that now included me. You’re the only son I have left, he’d told me. And I appreciate the love you have for this family.

  “Goodnight,” Mr. Turner told his wife, stealing a quick kiss from her before she headed off to bed. Then the man heaved a giant sigh, squatted down on his hands and knees, and started fiddling around with the DVD player as if he were busy changing a car tire. A moment later (after a thorough explanation from Rose) he managed to get the movie started. Ellie had been right; it was a chick movie. But frankly, I didn’t give a shit. I wasn’t paying attention anyway.

  The movie dragged on and eventually ended. Goodnights were said. Ellie and I headed downstairs. We didn’t discuss it, but I took the bed in the spare room and decided I’d be spending the night. Crashing here wasn’t out of the norm, (though typically I did it after a night of drinking) and this felt like the right place to be somehow. The guest bed was a waterbed. As outdated as that sounded, I liked it. I crawled in under the covers, settling into the middle of the squishy mattress, and hoped for an easy night’s sleep. No such luck. I tossed and turned, and had all but given up on getting some shut-eye, when I heard the faint sound of water running. I heard it coming from the downstairs bathroom. Was Ellie taking a shower at this hour? The girl was unpredictable so probably.

  After a solid twenty minutes, I concluded that there was no chance in hell it was Ellie showering—not for this long. Finally, the water stopped. I lay unmoving, listening desperately for any sound. Nothing. I liste
ned harder. Still, nothing. And then the door to my room creaked opened suddenly. Fuck.

  It wasn’t Ellie. That was for damn certain.

  It was Georgie.

  My eyes were semi-adjusted to the darkness and apparently hers were not. Because her figure, outlined just vaguely in moonlight, hair wet and dressed in loose pajamas, snuck into my room. The door closed softly behind her, and she unknowingly sat down on top of me. Her body made contact with mine for a mere fraction of a second before she jumped away as if I’d electrocuted her, disappearing into the shadows of the room.

  “Hello?” she yelped. “Who’s there?”

  “Georgie, it’s me,” I said as gently as possible, trying not to scare her further.

  “Oh,” she exhaled. It was a soft sound, but loud against the quiet night. “Sorry. I didn’t know you were here. I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

  “You didn’t wake me. Are you okay?”

  I’d known her since she was a kid, and we’d never had a one-on-one conversation like this before. I couldn’t even see her face, but for some unexplainable reason my heart was racing.

  She was hardly that little kid anymore.

  “I’m okay,” she answered. “It’s just…I didn’t want to sleep upstairs. I’m sorry. I’ll leave.”

  Swinging my legs over the edge of the bed, I stood up so fast I nearly gave myself whiplash. “No. You sleep here. I can sleep out on the couch.” I didn’t give her a chance to protest as I speedily left the room, the sweet scent of her shampoo filling my nostrils as I hurried past her. Before she could stop me, I shut the door behind me.

  The table lamp had been left on and the light blinded my unadjusted eyes. I turned it off and then made myself comfortable (or rather, uncomfortable) on the couch. My legs were a good two feet longer than the damn thing and no blankets could be found—but I was too confused by my brief conversion with Georgie to care. She didn’t want to sleep upstairs? I guess I understood that. Her dead brother’s room and the bathroom she tried to commit suicide in were upstairs. I wouldn’t want to be up there either. But why was my heart still racing?