by Shane Morgan
BY SHANE MORGAN
This is a work of fiction and is a product of the author’s imagination. Anything mentioned that relates to actual names, events, places, or institutions are all used fictitiously.
Copyright © 2014 Shane Morgan
www.shanemorganwrites.com
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All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in any format. Please do not partake in or encourage piracy of copyrighted material. Purchase authorized editions only.
Cover Image © Ivanova Natalia
Formatted by S. Morgan
‘I Had a Lover I Thought Was My Own’, ‘Spare Parts’, & ‘See the Sea’ Copyright © Allysen Callery.
ISBN-13: 978-0692225394 (paperback)
Also by Shane Morgan
Unresisting Trilogy:
Unresisting
Unfearing
Unending
Impossibly Forever: the Duology
Impossibly Love
Impossibly True
Finding Julian
Dedicated to my family and beloved, I wouldn’t have reached this far without your unconditional love and support. Thank you for snapping me out of it J
“Have enough courage to trust love one more time and always one more time.”
– Dr. Maya Angelou
ONE
Micah
Broken. Outcast. Trash.
Walking shit.
Several months ago, that was me. Mitchel Stephens. Those words described my life. I had to keep my head down whenever I left my house. The way people looked at me—screwed up their faces, whispered, pointed fingers—I couldn’t even go to the grocery store without falling under someone’s microscope.
But that’s life in a small town like Haxtun, Colorado.
I’d been released from juvie, and I returned confused. Lost. I wasn’t sure what to do next. My counselor at Haxtun Detention Center sat me down during a session and told me the best solution to my problems.
“Mr. Stephens, you have to try to move on. Leave the past behind.”
Easy for him to say. I’d had too much to deal with. First, Dad turned his back on me. Then Grams died during my time away. The pain from losing her hurt like Hell. She’d been both parents to me. She did what they couldn’t do: stick around and love me unconditionally.
Move on? Where would I go? What would I do?
I’d let Grams down. After everything she did for me, I ignored her warnings about Jason. I did what I wanted to do. My selfish decisions led me to where my grams didn’t want me to end up: in trouble.
The kind of trouble people don’t forget. Ever.
The kind that turns so-called friends and neighbors into judges. Juries. They scrutinize. Every. Single. Move.
It also gave them this power enabling them to treat you like nothing.
Worse than nothing. As if I didn’t friggin’ exist.
Move on, huh?
I finally had no choice. I took my counselor’s advice. The only way to truly move on was to move out and leave Haxtun, the memories of my grams and my past life behind.
I needed to make a fresh start somewhere else.
I hopped on a train to Illinois, trying to get as far away as possible. Then I wound up in Georgetown. After two days of searching the classifieds, I got a job as a part-time waiter at Chang’s Little Shanghai Restaurant.
Those first few months were all right. I met some interesting people, had fun with some girls, and ultimately, I got by. Then it began two nights ago.
The dreams. The bad memories. They crept up on me, and the itch to leave spread throughout my body.
So here I am now, my old duffle bag draped over my shoulder, climbing off a greyhound bus a few days after deciding on my next destination: Newport, a seaside city in Rhode Island. Seems like a nice enough place, just as far from Colorado as Illinois was. No one will know me here, either. It might be that I’m running away, but that doesn’t matter. I just want to keep going. Maybe travelling will help me shake my guilt.
The furious afternoon sun stings my bare arms. I’ve been wearing the same grey t-shirt and black jeans for two days now. My armpits feel sweaty. I seriously need a shower. Fast.
The instant I walk inside the near deserted transport center, a mellow pop song called ‘No Place like Home’ resounds from the speakers. How ironic. Purchasing a bus pass, I stand around and wait for the next trolley.
Within minutes it pulls up outside. I hop on and sit down in the back. According to the map app on my phone, this one will stop at the corner of my new digs.
Soon after I jump off the trolley at Pelham Street and look around. Nice neighborhood. Road’s a bit patchy in some parts but you can see the attempt in trying to keep a clean environment.
I walk up to the blue painted multi-family house at the corner of the street. After I pay the landlord enough Franklins to cover the first and last month’s rent, my sneakers squeak on the hardwood stairs as I amble up to the third floor. There’s a small window a top the stairs but I can’t really see anything with the huge tree blocking the view.
Wiping my feet on the rug outside my door, I unlock it, and step inside. It smells like wood and fresh paint. I take in the large studio space with a separate bathroom with a door. Privacy. Two double-hung windows look out onto the houses across the street and a park in the distance. Kitchenette. Furnished. Just the right size for one person. For me. This is my home, for now.
Settling down on the beige leather couch, I call up a restaurant that’s hiring for the summer. The owner tells me to stop by first thing Monday morning.
I shower and haul on a t-shirt and shorts, then order takeout for dinner, more specifically Chinese. Hey, it’s what I’m used to. I’m not cooking for anyone besides myself. After I finish eating a pint of pork lo mein, I go for a walk around the neighborhood, ending up at the park near the harbor.
I’m just in time to watch the sunset, something I haven’t bothered to do in months. For some reason, I’m compelled to observe this one.
Sitting down on a park bench, I stare up at the colors of the fading sky. The bursting orange and yellows mix together like one big orgasm. I appreciate the natural beauty for a while, until something, okay, someone, more captivating graces my view.
A young woman, lost in thought, walks barefoot across the sea wall made of rustic red pebble stones separating sand from sea. With the poise of a gymnast, her body shivers with each step against the ocean breeze. Her cute blue dress with floral prints flares modestly just below her knees. She pays no attention to anything else around her, unaware of how my eyes are trained on her every move.
As the setting sun slants across her tanned legs, she pauses for a beat. Flipping straight light brown hair off her shoulders, strands falling elegantly down her back. I love long hair on girls; the smell—that’s if it’s clean, I’ve had instances where it wasn’t—the feel, and the texture. Caught up, I lean forward, my gaze fixed on nothing but her. Turn. How I wish she’d turn around so I could see her face. Even my heart begins to thud with anticipation.
Finally, as if hearing me, she twists, her attention riveted on something out on the street to her left. Oh c’mon, turn toward me. The sun will be gone in minutes. She swivels, fully around this time. I’m breathless as I catch a glimpse. She’s beautiful, but I don’t mean that in a shallow way. Something about her intrigues me.
So what am I doing? Why am I just sitting here watching her?
Snapping back to my senses, I spring from the bench and start to walk over to her, hoping she won’t run away when I tell her how angelic she is before my eyes. Jeez. That’s corny as Hell, but I don’t care. I
have to talk to this girl.
I’m almost there when the loud beep-beep of a car draws her attention. She twirls and I stop in my tracks. A wide smile spreads across her pink lips, and like an idiot, I convince myself she’s actually smiling at me. Realization bites me on the ass when she hurries past me like I’m invisible, heading for the red jeep parked on the side of the street waiting for her.
She didn’t see me. Like seriously?
I stand in place and watch as she climbs inside the jeep, shuts the door, and the driver takes off. Now I feel like crap, because I wasted time and missed the chance to talk to her. I wonder if I’ll ever see her again.
With hunched shoulders, I walk up the sand onto the grass and sit back on the bench, dumping grains out of my flip-flops.
A lone gull scampers across the sand. A bright moon rises in the sky. I run my fingers through my already messy hair and start to laugh at myself. Dude, why did you get so riled up? That girl’s simply another pretty face. How many have I seen these last few months? Why should I care?
We meet, hook-up, and I move on.
The last thing I’m looking for is a girlfriend. I’m a no commitments type of guy. None of them ever took the guilt away, anyway.
But it’s crazy how I feel now. From just one look, my gut says that girl is worth getting to know. Maybe someone I wouldn’t mind sticking around for.
TWO
Reign
SO FAR my summer is a disaster. I graduated high school a week ago and was hoping my parents would at least sponsor a trip as a reward for all my hard work. Instead, I get to spend my days laboring at Mom’s waterfront restaurant, Captain’s Choice, while my classmates party in the Bahamas.
Well, I guess I can’t complain, since there’s no way my parents can afford it. Most of their money went toward my college tuition (because I slacked off and didn’t get a scholarship, as planned) and they have to cover other expenses, too.
Captain’s Choice isn’t as hot on the block as it used to be, either. Some days it’s up, sometimes it’s slow. Business is unpredictable, but it still has its regulars. So, I figure if I help out until the end of July, I can at least go to Miami with Claudia before starting at the University of Rhode Island in the fall. We’ve been planning that trip for God knows how long, so there’s no way I’ll miss out on that one, too.
Sighing, I wipe beads of sweat from my forehead with the back of my hand, thinking how my former classmates are probably having the time of their lives right now in the Bahamas. Lucky brats. They have their rich mommies and daddies to spoil them rotten.
I scoff at the thought because, who am I kidding? I wouldn’t be getting in the ocean anyways, and I’m not much of a drinker. That said, I’m not really missing out. Florida’s supposed to be the trip to “cure” me. Claudia swears she’ll find a way for me to overcome my issues with the ocean. I doubt it, but it’ll be fun; just the two of us spending time together before she goes off to college in New York.
An awful ache erupts in my shoulders. I straighten, stop cleaning the tables, toss the towel over the back of one of the dining chairs, and plop down on it to take a break. Gawd! This feels like the hottest morning since June started. It would have been nice soaking up this kind of heat in the Caribbean, but I wouldn’t mind a winter storm right now.
After only a few minutes, I hear handclaps and Mom’s demanding voice ordering me back to work. “It’s almost opening time, Reign. Stop lazing around. Come on.” I hate when she does that.
Grumbling, I push up from the chair and snatch the towel off the back, making my way inside the restaurant. Mom eyes me from head to toe as I approach, looking at my flats, knee-length jeans short and t-shirt. Before I can step past her, she tugs on my arm and slows me down.
“Honey, I’d appreciate it if you wore appropriate clothing while at work. This isn’t the beach,” she scolds.
I dip my head back and exhale in exasperation. We’ve been through this already. “Oh come on, Mom. Captain’s Choice isn’t much of a formal restaurant, and it is way too hot for long sleeves. The dress code should be a bit more casual, if you ask me.”
“Don’t give me that excuse,” she shushes, folding her arms loosely at the waist. She purses her lips and continues, “I have outfits that are convenient just for summer but you choose not to wear them.”
“Because they’re plain,” I retort, sarcasm cutting through my tone. With a smirk on my face, I suggest, “How about you let me design the uniforms and call it a day?”
Rolling her eyes, Mom untangles her arms and slaps my elbow lightly. “I would never let you do that. Next thing you know we’ll all be in ripped jeans and hippie-looking tops.”
“Huh…” I glance down at myself and scrunch up my face as I look back up at her. “This isn’t hippie-looking.”
“No, but it’s still unprofessional,” she smiles.
“I think—”
“Excuse me.”
The husky voice startles us out of our conversation. I peer over Mom’s shoulder at the guy standing behind her, and almost faint from the amount of attractiveness emanating from his presence. He’s tall, a good six feet two inches compared to my itty-bitty five three. Broad shoulders, toned arms, and a bulging chest inside his white t-shirt—he must work out. I kinda like how his dark brown hair is cropped at the sides with longer layers at the top. It has this natural wavy texture and moisture to it.
Bringing my eyes back to his handsome, chiseled face, I can’t shake the feeling that I’ve seen this guy before. No clue as to where though. I clear my thoughts in time to hear why he’s looking for my mom.
“I’m Micah Delaney. I called last Friday about the available position and was told to stop by this morning,” he tells her.
“Oh, right,” Mom replies enthusiastically. “Thanks for coming. I’m Sophia Aldridge, the owner.”
He shakes her hand firmly. “It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Aldridge. You said the position is only for the summer and is available immediately?”
I can’t get over how deep, sexy, and smooth his voice is.
“Well, that’s if I decide to give you a shot,” Mom says.
Not sure what transpires after because I block everything out as I continue to study him. There’s something rather enthralling about this Micah Delaney. Even though he appears polite and eager to work, his smile seems forced, and his body language reflects a guy who is well-guarded. Yeah, there is definitely a lot more going on behind those gorgeous sea blue eyes.
“And this is Reign,” Mom slants and introduces me.
When Micah flicks over and meets my curious gaze, I snap out of my admiration as he raises one of his thick brows, narrows his eyes, and slowly extends his hand toward me. It’s as if he himself has seen me before.
Then something odd happens; something that isn’t supposed to happen. The moment our hands touch my stomach dances and my heart leaps a tad. I notice a difference in the grin that’s playing at his lips now, like he’s genuinely amazed by me. Even his expression changed. He looks more certain now.
Weird.
I’m suddenly hyperaware that we’re still shaking hands, oddly, I don’t care to let go. Micah’s touch is warm—duh, it’s a blazing hot summer day—but more like a sensual warm. It radiates the kind of heat that would not only arouse a girl but make her feel safe and protected.
I drop his hand fast when Mom chips in, “Micah, walk with me to the office. We can talk more.”
As he turns away, I can’t believe the disappointment I feel. Frick! He’s just another good-looking guy, Reign. I see them every day around here. And Nate is just as hot. Yeah, remember Nate, your boyfriend?
Watching as Micah wanders off with Mom, I almost jump out of my skin when he glances back at me, delight dancing in his eyes before he turns the corner inside the restaurant.
I zap out of whatever “that was” and go back to work. I can’t believe I was gawking at a hot guy when I have a boyfriend. Damn. Where’s the loyalty?
Shor
tly after I finish cleaning the tables and chairs on the deck, I bring the supplies back inside. Aislin is preparing stuff at the bar because John isn’t in as yet. We open at ten so he still has half an hour left to avoid my mom’s wrath.
My cell phone buzzes inside my shorts pocket the second I sit down on one of the bar stools. I take it out and check the screen. It’s a text from Nate.
Hey babe. Gonna stop by this afternoon since I’ll be around the harbor. Cool?
I want to tell him not to drop by while I’m at work, because no one here likes it, especially Mom. She thinks it’s unprofessional for an employee to have her boyfriend flirting with her in front of customers. It kind of is. Only, I can’t say no. We haven’t seen each other much since graduating and he works with his dad sometimes.
Nate’s a sweet boyfriend. He even stayed behind with me instead of going to the Bahamas with the rest of our classmates. He’s always been good to me, so I don’t know how to turn him down, except for when it comes to sex. That part we haven’t gotten to yet.
Anyways, I text him back:
Okay.
“Boyfriend coming by today again?” asks Aislin, sounding annoyed.
I look up to meet her glare and stick my phone back inside my pocket, answering, “Yeah. Are you fine with that?”
“Pff. Whatever.” She rolls her brown eyes and turns her back on me, checking the remaining level of alcohol. “Just don’t leave your tables hanging so you can fool around. It’ll probably be a busy day and we’re already short-staffed,” she grumbles.
“Well not for long,” I reply smartly, thinking of Micah. “It looks like we’ll be getting a new addition until Marie comes back.”
“Oh goodie,” she chirps in a pretentious tone.
Feeling irritated, I slide off the stool and walk back outside to the deck. Aislin hasn’t been as cool as when she first started working here last year. She won’t tell me what’s eating at her, yet she keeps giving me the stink eye and frowns whenever I mention Nate.
