I would find her. I would tell her how much I cared for her. I would make this right.
* * *
Only I didn’t find her. I spent the entire day, from ten in the morning until ten in the evening, driving from business to business around the Outer Banks. I asked every Tom, Dick, and Harry if they’d seen her or knew her. This was an impossible task when I didn’t even have her name. So I started looking for Kimberly Whittle or Cody Melbourne, the only two names I had in association with her. Turned out that Kimberly was now a teacher at Kill Devil Hills High School. But since it was summer time and school wasn’t in session, I couldn’t find her that way. The internet was completely useless, neither name had a number listed. So I had nothing. Absolutely nothing.
I’d started the day angry. Now, as I collapsed in my bed for the night, I only felt defeated. Crazy how everything in life can change so fast—from boring, to wonderful, to heart-breaking—all in the span of twenty-four hours.
Sleep, for once, came really easy that night. I guess that was what depression does to a person.
The next morning my tactic for finding Green Eyes changed. I decided Chancy’s Claw was where I needed to be. We’d met there. It was possible, if she wanted to be found, that she might return there. Chancy’s opened at ten. I was there at nine.
I parked my ass in the corner barstool, my spot, and I had no intentions of moving until someone made me move. Luce was working the bar for day shift. Thank God it was her and not one of the other girls. Some of them, most of them, really hated my guts.
“What happened to you?” were the first words out of her mouth.
“I need a drink,” I grunted. “My life sucks at the moment.”
“You look like the angel of death,” she informed me. She poured me shot of tequila. “Want to talk about it?”
“Not until I have a few more of these in me.” I tipped the shot back, swallowing down the liquid in one easy motion. It didn’t even burn.
Next she popped the top on a bottle of Budweiser and handed it over. Not my first choice, but at this point I would drink anything in front of me. “Don’t go too fast,” she warned. “You can be a lousy drunk and you know it, Rhett Morgan. I don’t want to deal with that today. Just go slow and when you’re ready to talk, I’m here.”
“You’re not mad about the other night?”
“Oh, when you ditched me in the middle of a shift? No. I’m already over it.”
She walked out of sight. There was lots to do when it came to prepping the bar. She let me be, and I let her work. Three hours and six beers later, the world still sucked. Green Eyes hadn’t shown. Today’s plan to find her had turned into a drinking marathon instead of an actual search.
“Fuck my life,” I mumbled and rested my head on the bar top.
“Hey,” came a cautious voice. It was Noah. He joined me for lunch sometimes, and suddenly he was standing next to me. If I was the ‘angel of death’ today he sure felt like the ‘angel of light.’ I nearly hugged him I was so relieved to see him.
“I’m glad you’re here,” I admitted. “I need your advice.”
“Okay?” Sitting down in the seat beside me, he nodded at Luce. She knew Noah as well as me, we were all friends, and she knew what he liked to order. She grabbed a pint glass and started filling it with one of Chancy’s craft beers.
“What’s going on?” Noah asked.
At this point I was too drunk to sugarcoat it. “I’m in motherfucking love,” I shouted.
Luce, overhearing and obviously shocked by my words, dropped Noah’s full glass of beer onto the bar top. It spilled everywhere, including on Noah’s shorts. The beer soaked him and on any other day I might have found the incident hilarious, but not today. Luce apologized, brought Noah some napkins, and then a replacement beer.
“What were you saying about love?” Noah asked as he gave up on his shorts and grabbed his beer instead. Luce didn’t linger. I guess she didn’t want to hear this.
“The blonde,” I explained to him. “The one who stayed over the night you chucked one of our glasses at the rat. I’m in love with her, but I don’t even know her name or how to find her. She used me for sex. Mercifully. And now she’s gone.”
It sounded really pathetic when I said the words out loud.
I hardly cared.
“Um.” Noah crinkled his eyes in confusion at me. “I thought the blonde was one of your bar bunnies.”
“My what?”
Lowering his voice, I guess so Luce wouldn’t overhear, he explained, “It’s what Ellie calls the girls you screw around with regularly. You know, like Luce and Chelsea…and maybe that brunette named Allie, too. I don’t know how many of them you fuck.”
Bar bunnies. Groupies. Whatever you wanted to call them. Noah was kind of right. Luce and I weren’t regular anymore, but he was right about Chelsea and Allie. Although, after Green Eyes, I never wanted to see another woman again. I was done for a while.
“No.” I took a sip at the bottle of Bud I’d been palming since Noah walked into Chancy’s. “This girl was different. She was more than just sex. I spent the entire day yesterday going to every business from Nags Head all the way up to Duck searching for her. Nothing. I met her here first. So after yesterday’s mad search, I decided that I’d probably have better luck staying in one place. I’m not moving from this seat until they kick me out.”
“And what advice did you need from me?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. You’ve always got your shit in control. I need some of that to rub off on me right now because I feel like I’m spiraling out of control. I’m trying to ignore the possibility that I might never see this girl again.” I tipped my beer back and guzzled the remainder of my drink. Noah finished his drink with me.
“Let’s play a game,” Noah suggested, nodding at Luce for another beer. “Every time a girl walks in the front door and she isn’t your girl then we take a drink. Sound fun? We’ll see how drunk we can get before she shows.”
For the first time in several days, I laughed. “Game on, Noah.”
* * *
Noah was hammered. We’d been drinking since lunch, but somehow I’d managed to stay semi-sober. Exhausted, maybe, but my thoughts were coherent and my emotions rather level considering everything. Still, it was nearly closing time at Chancy’s and we needed a ride. I called Ellie. She was going to bitch and whine, likely hold this against me until the end of time, because everything was always my fault with her. But when it came down to it, I could always count on her to come pick me up if need be. And vice versa. She knew I was there for her, too.
A quick half hour after calling, there Ellie was in all her lesbian, short-haired, tattooed glory. Like a little pissed off poodle, ready to bite at my ankles, she stalked into the restaurant in her pajamas and sunglasses. A blinding flash hit my eyes as she approached. What the hell? I think she’d just taken a picture of Noah and myself. And as fast as that device she’d used to take that surely incriminating photo had come out of her bag, she was already putting it away.
Ellie was so random sometimes.
“What’s up with the camera?” I asked.
“Yeah, what’s up with the camera?” Noah slurred like a drunk parakeet beside me.
“Nothing,” she grunted. “You two fools ready to go. I was in bed. Asleep. You all owe me for this.”
“We’re ready. No need to get your boy-shorts all twisted,” I said, shooting her a wink.
“Ew,” she groaned. “I wear boxer briefs.”
“Oh, really? Me too.”
“Can you just shut up and help Noah?”
Noah—and his dead weight—fell into me. I helped him walk toward the door. He kept muttering the name Georgie, which I assumed was short of Georgina, in my ear. Yep. I’d been totally and completely right. He was all about Ellie’s younger sister. Ellie heard him say it a few times, but she ignored it. Which, if I had a younger sister, I wouldn’t ignore that sort of thing. But whatever. Not my business.
Ellie and I helped Noah into the car, where he instantly passed out in the back seat, and then she drove the three of us back to the house. The streets were dark, the car awkwardly quiet, and the mood suddenly too depressing on this sticky, hot night. What little buzz I had going died as I realized tonight made two nights since the night I’d taken my green-eyed girl home. Every day that slipped away felt like more and more distance between us. I hated it.
“You’re awfully quiet,” Ellie observed. She drove slower than a grandma. “And where’s your normal bimbo ride-along? Usually there’s always a stray following you home.”
“I’m done with girls for a while.”
She clicked her tongue, probably not believing me.
“It’s true,” I argued. “That blonde I had over the other night, I might be in love with her. Or I was until she ditched me the next morning. I’m done until I figure out whatever that means. Hey—” It occurred to me now that I had a lead that I had yet to follow. “She knew your brother. Did you recognize her?”
“No. I’d never seen her before in my life. What was her name?”
I thumped my head on the back of my seat a couple times. Why couldn’t I have gotten her name? My life would be so much easier if only I had. “I don’t know.”
Ellie chuckled. “Oh my God. Of course you don’t know her name.”
This conversation wasn’t helping my wounded heart. But I wasn’t giving up, so I tried another angle. “The other night wasn’t the first time I met her actually. The first time was a couple years ago and she was with this older guy. Like late twenties or maybe early thirties.” Surely not her boyfriend if she’d never kissed a guy before me. But I still had no explanation for who he might have been. “Anyway, he was covered in tattoos. I mean covered. And he knew my name for some reason. Any idea who he might have been?”
Ellie turned down our street and into our driveway. She opened her door, but before getting out and ignoring my question, she laid into me. “Because everyone with fucking tattoos knows everyone else,” she snapped.
I shot her a nasty look. Why did she always have to be so damn difficult? We were constantly bickering, while she and Noah were chummy as hell. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
“Whatever. Was this guy skinny?” she questioned. “Dark hair? Piercings?”
“Yes! You know him?” Finally, something!
“Maybe. He might be this guy, John Michaels. He owns Inked in Kill Devil Hills. It’s the only place I go. He’s done like ninety percent of my work. He did the octopus.” She lifted the edge of her shirt to show off the giant octopus tattoo that covered her stomach, the one with the legs disappearing into places I didn’t want to think about. I’d seen it a million times. She was constantly showing that thing off to whoever would look. I didn’t need to see it again. “He has a younger sister,” Ellie continued on, pulling her shirt back down. “He’s her guardian or something. She lives with him. I’ve never met her, but he talks about her a lot. She’s Georgie’s age. So…bingo. There you go.” She gave me a high five, all proud of herself. “Did I just solve your little mystery?”
The relief that hit me was something amazing. “I think you did,” I whispered.
“I got one better then.” She smiled. “I know her name. Her name is Sydney.”
CHAPTER 9:
SYDNEY
Apparently, I’d broken Rhett’s heart. I’d heard this from a few different people now. Rhett had a lot of friends around this town and people were quick to tell me how miserable he was. Some were more polite than others. I had to harden my skin, put up a mask of indifference, and pretend like I felt nothing for him. But I did feel something and that made the last week torture. The worst moments had been my conversations with his roommate, Noah.
Our first run-in happened a couple days after my night with Rhett. John had taken me to play miniature golf, claiming that I needed to get out of the house and stop hiding, that I’d done this to myself and couldn’t avoid the consequences. And to say John hated Rhett now more than ever…well, that was the understatement of the century.
“Noah,” I gasped, when he suddenly jumped over a mini Mount Rushmore rock, part of the golf course, and right into the middle of my game with John. “You scared the shit out of me.”
He caught his breath and took a step backward, eyeing both John and I.
“How do you know my name?” he asked.
“I remember you from the other night.”
“Oh.” He glanced at John, who was glaring at him like he was a serial killer.
“Sorry I interrupted your game,” Noah said politely, a contrast to his kind of shaggy appearance. “But Rhett Morgan has been looking for you,” he told me. “You know, my roommate.”
I purposely let out a chuckle, kept my head high and my words strong. “Yeah, I’ve already heard—from you and about five others now. It’s a small town. Word gets around. Did it ever occur to people that maybe I don’t want to be found?” Almost buying into my own words and almost feeling like an actual bad-ass, I stepped onto the putting green, lining up my club with my golf ball. “It’s called a ‘one-night stand’ for a reason.”
John groaned, all part of this carefully crafted scene we were playing. “Seriously, do you have to say that shit in front of me?” he whined on cue. “No brother wants to hear about his little sister fucking the town manwhore.”
“Shut up, John.” Pretending to be unfazed, I swung my putter and actually happened to sink the ball into the hole in one easy shot. This was a small miracle in itself since my hands were trembling. Then I turned my attention back to Noah. “Tell Rhett I had an amazing night. He was sweet and I never meant to hurt him. But one night was all I wanted.” I shrugged, trying my best to pretend like I didn’t care at all when really, I’d never cared more in my life.
“Fine. I’ll tell him,” Noah grunted, done with me, and then he walked off.
The moment he was gone, back inside the small building on the edge of the golf course and out of sight, John wrapped his arms around me and gave me the biggest hug. Tears filled my eyes and my lungs burned. “Do you have to use the f-word like that?” I sniffled into his shirt. “It’s so mean. It’s so embarrassing.”
“Yes,” he said bluntly. “I do. It sends a clearer message. You did good, Sid, and hopefully this is over now.”
When I left Rhett the morning after our night together, I knew I was making the best decision for myself. All I ever wanted with him was one night of sex and fun, but somewhere along the way it had turned more complicated than that. Because I’d developed genuine, deep feelings for him. How could I not? He was sweet, handsome, funny, and we clicked in this special way that I’d never experienced with anyone else before.
Which was completely inconvenient…since I still loved Ben.
So I ran. I woke up that morning, and I ran as fast as I could. I was afraid of my feelings for Rhett, and I was afraid of my feelings for Ben. What if I would always be trapped in this limbo with Ben? How was that fair to Rhett? It wasn’t, and I was beyond stupid to think sex could ever be so easy. It didn’t help that Rhett had connections to Ben’s family.
But there was something else to consider with Rhett too. Sure, he may have said all the right things, made all the right moves, and treated me like a goddess. But how much of that was real and how much of that was an act? Because the Rhett everyone else knew was supposedly some manwhore, super-player. A guy who used women for one thing. Sex. We’d had sex. So how was I any different than all those other girls before me? Guys like him did not change overnight. If I stayed, how long would it have taken him to figure that out?
That very morning?
Would he have woken up, remembered that about himself, and kicked me out of his bed anyway? I didn’t want the answer to that question. I wanted to keep this special, untarnished image I had of him, forever intact in my mind. So I ran. And I kept telling myself that it had been the right decision.
John agreed. He more than agreed, he b
elieved with such certainty that it was very convincing. I told him everything. Well, a very simplified version of everything. I never would have told him I had sex, but this was Rhett we were talking about, and John knew it instantly. And I couldn’t lie to John. So when I first heard that Rhett was looking for me, that he needed to speak with me, John came up with the solution. Tell everyone I’d used him for sex, which was more-or-less the truth, and that I wasn’t interested in seconds.
Still, there was this tiny voice in the back of my head that told me Rhett hadn’t played me. That he’d been nothing but genuine. I hurt knowing that I might have hurt him. But even in a perfect world, if there were no other factors to consider, we couldn’t be together. In a little over a month I’d be starting college at Luke University—over three hours away!
I’d done the right thing.
“This is the right thing,” John said, echoing my thoughts. He absentmindedly flipped through a Sports Illustrated magazine at the doctor’s office, his right leg shaking a million miles a minute. We were waiting in a small waiting room for the nurse to come back with my HIV test results. That’s right…I’d had my finger pricked and had to pee in a cup today. All because John was making me get an STD test. Awesome. The chlamydia and gonorrhea results wouldn’t be ready for seven more days. Even better. This was what every girl wanted to do with her older brother on a Monday morning.
“I can’t believe you’re making me do this,” I mumbled, sinking further into my chair, wishing the nurse would hurry up and bring us the results already. “You couldn’t have waited in the car?”
“Nope,” John said, chewing on his lip ring. “If that bastard gave you anything, I want to know so I can kill him. I’m serious. I will hunt his ass down and run him over with my truck.”
“Do you think we should ask the nurse if she’ll do a pregnancy test next?” I said sarcastically.
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