Harper shrugs. “Don’t know. Maybe.” I envy the way she can brush off a question with indifference instead of avoidance.
“I should probably warn her at least.”
“Your gram is the coolest old person ever. It’ll be fine.”
“Old person?”
“You know what I mean.”
“But it’s late. What if she’s—”
“Emma. Seriously. Relax. It’s going to be fine.”
I release a huff and stare at the passing scenery. Fine. I don’t even know what the standard is to measure that. Have I ever introduced her to a guy before? No, because how do you say “this is my permanent guardian due to the fact that my father murdered my mother”?
I glance down at my phone. Just a quick message. It’s not nerves; it’s etiquette.
Hey, Gram. You still up?
Gram: Hi, sweetie. Just watching my show. Are you having fun?
Me: Actually, we’re on our way home and will be bringing two guests.
Gram: Really? Please tell me the guests are cute boys.
Me: Very cute.
Gram: I can’t wait.
I smile to myself and try to imagine what “fine” will look like.
We arrive just before the boys and wait as they unload. Christian smiles when I approach, and I love how natural it feels to reach for his hand. I pull him to a quick stop in the driveway.
“I totally forgot to mention that my grandmother is visiting. I didn’t remember until we were in the car. Are you okay meeting her?”
Something flashes in his eyes but it’s gone so quickly I can’t read it. The look there now is casual and all I have to go on. “Okay. That’s fine.”
I squeeze his hand. “She’s the one who raised me after my mother…” I clear my throat. “Anyway, she’s basically my only family now besides my sister.”
“You have a sister?”
I nod, enjoying the way his eyes light up. “Yes, and in fact, she’s in your part of the world. She has a restaurant in Italy.”
“That’s nice.”
“What about you? Any siblings?” I ask without thinking. His light fades, and I almost gasp at the stupid question. “Crap, I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay.” His expression is back to unreadable. I hate the way he buries himself all the time, but I suppose this one is my fault.
I lace my fingers in his and tug him toward the door. Harper and Jakub are already inside. I hear the loud introductions taking place, and I wrap my other arm around Christian’s when he hesitates. Every muscle is rigid as I force him forward.
“Come on. She’s going to love you,” I say.
“You think this?”
I nod, confident, but concerned by the way he fixes that hard stare on the door. He’s never spoken about his family, other than the fire that took his sister and some others. Maybe all of them? My pulse picks up at the thought. Gosh, for someone I feel like I’ve connected with on such a profound level, I really don’t know much about him. I glance up at his stoic expression now. Will I ever know? Can I have this boy I’ve finally decided I want if he never gives himself over?
For now, our journey is simpler, and when we enter the foyer all of my inhibitions fall away.
“Please tell me this devastatingly handsome young man is the guest you promised,” Gram says rushing forward. She doesn’t give us a chance to argue before she disappears into Christian’s arms. He towers over her, his broad, powerful body even more evident relative to her petite frame as he awkwardly allows her to direct the encounter. I have to admit, his amused surprise at being ambushed by the tiny woman has my heart fluttering all around my chest.
“So Gram, this is Christian. Christian, this is my grandmother, Mrs. Andrews.”
She pulls back and gives him a warm appraisal. “Christian, huh? Well.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Andrews,” he says.
Her forehead scrunches in disapproval. “Oh no. You call me Sadie. Well, until you and my granddaughter are inseparable. Then I will be Gram.”
“Gram!” I cry.
“What?” That innocent look on her face fools no one. Especially when it’s followed by a sly wink. “Keep this one, Emma. He’s very cute. Like I said, devastating.”
“Oh my gosh.” My face burns when Christian turns that killer smile on me. “Sorry about her,” I mutter, taking his hand and subtly pulling him away. Why did I agree to this meeting again? When I check his expression, though, he’s not nearly as horrified as I am. In fact, there’s a brightness in his eyes that I wasn’t expecting. Admiration also? I want to know more than ever what he left back in Slovakia. Gosh, I want to know everything.
“What means devastating?” he asks to a chorus of snickers from our friends.
I roll my eyes. “In this case, it means ‘very’ as in very handsome. So yes, my Gram just said you’re hot which is super weird and gross,” I direct to her.
She shrugs with a mischievous smile on her way to the kitchen. “I only speak the truth. Would you kids like a snack before whatever late-night activities you have planned?”
Harper chokes on a laugh, and I want to disappear into the floor.
Oh my gosh, she’s impossible.
But I can’t stop the grin as I shake my head and follow her to help.
“Your grandmother is very nice,” Christian says when we’re finally alone in my room.
It was a good hour before she released the couples to their activities and “not give a second thought to the old lady on the couch.” Her statement was perfectly fine until she added the very obvious wink that said, “have all the young, hot sex you want.” Yes, I died and almost dropped the empty dish I was carrying. Language and cultural barriers can be frustrating at times, but right then, I was beyond grateful that it seemed to go over the heads of our Slovak friends.
“She is. Embarrassing too,” I mutter.
I recline on the bed, and motion for him to join me. It’s my favorite place to be with him. For some reason his shutters seem to drop when he’s staring up at my ceiling. It’s probably strange that I crave this position for the emotional intimacy more than the promise of sex, but everything about us has been strange since the beginning. We are strange. Our past, our present, and the tragic stories they’ve made us.
I adjust to give him space when he lowers beside me, and end up in that perfect place: on my side, halfway draped over his chest. He tucks his free arm under his head, and I suspect I could watch him like this for hours. His face is a work of art when he gets lost in his thoughts.
“Maybe she is embarrassing, but she also loves you. Mine is…” He stops, and I swear I feel his body shudder beneath me.
Is. “So you aren’t close to your grandmother?”
That earlier emotion flashes in his eyes again, and this time there’s no filter over the darkness. “I live with her for many years after the fire.”
My stomach sinks at the drop in his voice, the way his expression hardens.
“Did you…” Gosh, I can’t even say it. “Did you live with her because you also lost your parents in that fire?”
His gaze narrows on the ceiling.
I reach up and trace the hard line of his jaw. “Christian. Tell me.”
He blinks slowly, his muscles tense as he nods. “Yes, they die also. My grandfather too.”
“Oh my god, Christian.”
I wrap the hand on his chest in mine and squeeze. Pain flares across his face for just a second. Just long enough to expose the depth of what he’s hiding. It hurts so much more to watch him fight it.
“It’s okay to be sad. It’s okay to miss them,” I say gently.
He doesn’t move. Doesn’t even flinch as his stern gaze continues to confront my ceiling. I would have preferred an angry retort to this eerie nothing.
“Being sad does nothing. Missing them does nothing,” he says.
“Yes it does. It helps fix the hurt.” I move my hand and press it over his heart.
; His eyes snap to mine, and this time I catch the hint of resentment.
“You are fixed then? Is this why you do that?” He points toward the wall, and I shrink at the evidence against me. I should be angry and lash back, but how can I when his trembling voice betrays him as much as me? Instead, I look him squarely in the eye.
“No, I’m not fixed. Far from it. That doesn’t mean we give up.” I blink back the sting of his words, and he softens. I do too when the new pain at hurting me mixes with the ancient injury on his face.
“I’m sorry. I should not say this. I’m sorry, Emma.”
I shake my head, centering his face with my hand. “I don’t want you to be sorry. I want you to be honest. With me and yourself. Sometimes I think you hide so much.”
He stares back in silence, and I see his mind working behind those beautiful, haunting eyes.
“You will be honest also?” he asks finally. His gaze holds no contempt, no malice as it searches mine. “Odpustiť?”
My heart stutters in my chest. Odpustiť—forgive. I will never forget that word. He pulls me down and tucks his arms around me as a piece of me breaks. I rest my ear against his own pounding heart and close my eyes.
“I know it hurts,” he says, his deep voice filling every dark, broken part of me. “But I wish so much for a father to hate.”
“Hey, you idiot! Do you have any idea how much that costs?”
I bristle at the student’s reprimand and fight to suppress my reaction.
“Sorry,” I mumble, placing the vase or whatever the hell it is gently on the desk. Who brings a vase to university anyway? At first I’d been excited about Filip’s assignment to help a new resident move in a week early. A politician’s son or something, and I’d thought maybe I’d be able to make a new friend. It quickly became clear that I’m nothing more than “the help,” and worth even less than that to this entitled asshole. Kind of funny that he considers me “the help” when I’m the only one doing any of the work. His girlfriend has been on her phone the entire time while he waits at the entrance of the room to inspect every item I bring in. Maybe he’s afraid my poorness will damage it.
I’m burning by the time I fish the last load out of his car.
“Don’t let him get to you,” Filip says behind me.
I shoot him a glare that he returns with amusement. His gaze tracks up the front of the building and rests on the silhouettes in a second-floor window.
“He treats me like shit,” I mutter. “I’m a student here too. Just like him.”
“Those details don’t matter to people like that. There will be a lot of those types in your life. He’s not the first you’ve met, right?”
Not even the hundredth. “Still, it’s annoying.”
“Annoying? You’re being polite. It’s fucking infuriating to be insulted by such a spineless, spoiled pain-in-the-ass.” He grins, and I can’t help but smile back. “But that kid is also from a different world than we are, and doesn’t even know it. People like him? They think they own the universe, when the truth is, they don’t deserve to breathe the same air as real warriors like you. Don’t let him get under your skin and take something he doesn’t deserve. Brush those bastards off and give them the respect they’ve earned.”
“That easy, huh?”
“Ha. No. But trust me, it helps to think about what will happen when they’re finally exposed to reality.”
“If.”
“When. Life comes for us all, my friend. It just came for you earlier than most.”
Chapter Sixteen: Homes and Hospitals
We convince Gram to go with us to the beach the following afternoon. It’s not hard when we promise her the umbrella and chair to spend the day doing those crossword puzzles she loves. Today’s lifeguard is a young woman we don’t recognize, and I find myself straining to listen for a familiar accent. Since meeting Christian, I’ve paid more attention to the people around me, wondering about stories I would have ignored before. Is she from Slovakia as well? What events brought her to this intersection of our paths?
“Christian isn’t your lifeguard?” Gram asks, intercepting my stare. “I assumed he would be.”
I chuckle at her expression and reach for the umbrella. “Why? Because you wanted to see the devastatingly handsome boy half-naked in a swimsuit?”
“Oh hush. I just figured that’s how you met.”
I clip the umbrella to the back of the chair. ”It is. But he got in trouble for talking to me a couple of times and now he’s never assigned to this spot.”
“Really?” I don’t like the way she rubs her hands with juicy-conspiracy gusto.
“It was stupid. He wasn’t doing anything wrong. His boss is just a jerk.”
“Huge jerk,” Harper adds, spreading her towel beside us. “You should have seen Emma stand up to him though. It was pure poetry.”
“That’s my girl!” Gram says.
“Yeah, and it totally backfired,” I remind Harper. Gram settles into her chair, and I start on my own setup.
“Backfired how?” she asks.
“Christian got in more trouble and was forced to do menial crap instead of his job. He wouldn’t talk to me for a while after that.” I feel her interest but don’t want to go into more detail. “Anyway, it’s fine now, so can we please enjoy a relaxing day at the ocean?”
I’ve just dropped to my towel when Gram is shimmying up from her chair. “Actually, how about a walk?” she asks me. “It’s been ages since I had a nice stroll on the beach.”
I squint up at her to meet an expression that doesn’t allow for debate. Okay then. Walk it is. Harper is also on her feet—for what seems to be an entirely different mission.
“Jakub is two chairs up. I’m going to say hi,” she explains before taking off down the sand. Why did we even bother setting up?
“Okay, which way?” I ask Gram who’s adjusting her wide-brimmed hat.
She holds a hand above her eyes as she inspects both directions. “South,” she says with confidence. I’m not too surprised it’s in the opposite direction of Harper. This “walk” has serious-real-talk written all over it. I try to keep my pulse in check.
We journey down to the water’s edge and start a slow pace along the surf. I love the tickle of water and foam over my toes and the soft cushion of wet sand beneath. I suppose if I have to hear bad news these are the conditions for it.
“So what’s going on? Just tell me.” I ask once we’ve set an even gait.
Her lips twist in a quick smile. “Has it been that obvious?”
“You’ve been weird since you arrived. Well, weirder than normal.”
She chuckles and shushes me for my sass. When her amusement fades, so does mine. “Okay then. I’ll just come out with it. I’ve sold the house and I’m moving into a retirement community in Florida.”
“Our house?” My feet start sinking into the sand. I must have stopped moving.
“I know it seems sudden, but the truth is, I’ve been wanting this for a long time. The Hansons from church made a great offer on the property, and I found this beautiful community near Jacksonville. Remember Ada from my book club? She lives there. And, well, now that you’re settled at school, it seemed like the right time.”
“Now that you don’t need me, I can finally live my life.”
Of course she didn’t say that but it’s the only thing I hear in the silence.
Now that my burden is lifted.
Now that my job is done.
I’m happy for her. I mean, I should be happy for her. I am, it’s just my heart seems to suddenly require extra beats to do its job. My skin tingles from the effort, and is the sun particularly ornery this morning? I take several steps into the water to cool my burning flesh.
Geez, come on, Emma. It’s her life, her house. It’s just a building. Just stability and order and the only place I ever felt rooted. What will happen to my bed? My dresser? The posters of musicians on my walls? Why am I so freaking selfish and damaged?
&nbs
p; I press my fists against my eyes and focus on breathing in the salty air. It’s just a house. Just a house. Just a house.
Soft arms that have held me through much worse slip around my waist and pull me back to the surface. I ease into them and let the gentle embrace battle the storm in my head. It’s just a house. Nothing a plan and a few lists can’t fix. My fingers twitch for a pen and my notebook.
Coordinate a visit home.
Develop a strategy for my belongings. (List them first, of course).
Update my address for important documents.
Gram’s new address probably doesn’t make sense. Hmm… I suppose I could look into a post office box until I have a permanent address of my own.
“Emma? You okay?”
The panic has eased into a dull whisper by the time I turn back to her. “Fine. I’m happy for you, Gram. I’ll start working on a plan for my stuff. Do you have the address for your new place? I’ll need that. Oh, and if you could send me a list of all the important dates like closing and inspections and all of that, that’d be great. I have my summer course, but I’m sure I can arrange something with my professor to schedule a last visit home to label and pack everything. I’m supposed to restart my campus job in August but it sounds like this won’t interfere with that. What do you think, July for the closing date?”
“Emma.”
I stop speaking at the pressure on my arm.
“What?”
I don’t get why her gaze holds only concern when she draws my attention to her. She’s leaving. Selling her house—my home—and I’m calmly and rationally helping with the logistics. I deserve a thank you, not pity.
“It’s okay to be upset about this, Emma.” Her hand latches on my arm, and I fight the urge to shrug it off.
“I know, but I’m fine. It’s your house and your life. You have the right to do what you want with both. I get it. I’ll take care of my stuff so you can focus on—”
“Emma, please.”
“Please what?” The words come out harsher than I would have liked, and I look away. My stomach hurts as my teeth sink into my lip. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap like that.”
High Tide Page 16
