by Jill Valley
“Hey JJ,” she murmurs, before she rolls her eyes and hurries away. I glance at Ethan and Zane. I’m not a fan of either of them, but they’ve never given me any big problems.
“What can I do for you?” I ask, leaning my elbow against the hostess stand.
“We just wanted some breakfast and Mel said she wasn’t sure if she could seat us,” said Zane, a guy with a shaved head and bulging muscles.
I shrug. “You know you aren’t supposed to come around here. It upsets people,” I say. “And it causes problems on the weekend.”
Ethan cracks his knuckles. His nose looks permanently smashed, probably from too many bar fights.
“We don’t have a problem with you if you don’t have a problem with us,” he says. His eyes are dark and growing darker.
I want to keep this simple. “I don’t have a problem with you,” I say, still trying for casual, “just what happens on the weekend.” Before either of them can argue I continue, “Why don’t you guys grab a table and I’ll send someone right over?” I say. “Happy to have you.”
I’m really not. These guys are trouble, and given the way Zane is leering at Nora, I’m liable to throw a punch before all is said and done. But I have to attempt to stay on good terms with them, so all I can do is give it a try and hope for the best.
“Sorry for the confusion about seating you,” I add for good measure. The guys shrug and I see them to a table. Melissa raises an eyebrow at me. I was the one who instructed her that I wanted to keep these guys out, and now I’m letting them in with barely an argument.
Jessie’s a pretty girl. I’ve seen guys check her out before. It hasn’t really bothered me and not because I know she’s mine. It hasn’t really bothered me because I don’t really care.
I want to take Zane and Ethan and slam them against the wall.
I have a problem. A really big problem. And she’s beautiful.
Chapter Seventeen - Nora
“She’s catatonic. Are you sure that man didn’t upset her?” My mom’s shrill voice rings out. She’s frantic. She’s been frantic since they pulled us out of the water.
I hear a doctor’s murmured reply. What man is she talking about? The only man I’ve ever known slipped out of my cold grasp and died.
There are bright lights and a terrible smell. I hate the smell of chemicals and I feel like gagging, but my body doesn’t have enough energy to gag.
I reach out blindly and feel my mom’s grip on my wrists. She’s hanging onto me for dear life, as if she’s afraid I’ll drown too if she lets go. Maybe I will.
“It’s okay, honey,” she murmurs. Her mouth is so close to my ear that I can feel her breath on my neck.
“He saved her life,” says the doctor. “He got to her first and got her out of the water. She was refusing to let go of her friend.”
“He was her boyfriend,” says my mother angrily. “Of course she wouldn’t let go of him.”
“I understand,” the doctor says, “but she was cold and she was traumatized and he got her out of the water. He did his best and she’s better for it.”
I don’t feel very good and I wonder if it’s possible to feel worse. Obviously my mother thinks I should be fine.
“Mom,” I say. “I’m . . .” Well, I’m not okay. I’m not nearly, but I don’t even know who she’s talking about.
“Who are you talking about?” I ask thickly, my mouth dry.
For the first time I look up and meet her eyes. She solidifies in my gaze, and her shoulders relax a little and the tiniest of smiles appears. She’s glad I can see her. I feel the tears come, and she moves forward, wrapping her arms tightly around me.
“Don’t worry, baby girl,” she murmurs, stroking my hair. It sounds like she’s crying too. “You’ll get through this.”
“But who are you talking about, Mom?” I ask, almost stupidly.
“No one,” she says hoarsely. “It doesn’t matter anymore.”
She’s right. Nothing matters anymore.
“What happened?” I remember water, and Michael. I remember screaming and strong hands pulling me out. I remember fighting them, because of Michael. I didn’t want to be saved.
“Michael died, didn’t he?” I whisper. I already know the answer, because I saw it happen, and some things you cannot un-see. I saw him drown. I saw the search lights. I heard yelling, even my name called. That’s why I fought.
“They said you were wild when they found you,” my mom whispers through painful tears. Some fall on her hands, some fall on mine.
“I didn’t want to leave him,” I say by way of explanation. “It should have been obvious.”
“Honey,” my mom says, “that’s not what Michael would want for you.”
“Michael would want us to be together,” I say. My throat is closing and my eyes are starting to sting, because they want to cry, but I don’t have any tears left. My head pounds. “Michael would want to be there for my birthdays, my graduations, my jobs and my job changes. He would want to be there for the big events in my future and the small ones. He wouldn’t want me to have to go to them alone.” A few tears dribble down my cheek and I swipe them angrily away, releasing my mom’s hand.
“Honey,” she says, “get some rest.”
I nod, mostly just to get her to go away. I love my mother, but I’m alone in this. Once she’s gone I continue to sit, replaying the events over and over in my mind until I’m nearly hysterical.
In the end the doctors sedate me, and I sleep. Mostly there are flashes of pain and fear, but every once in awhile I see the spark of a bright light, a deep voice, and strong hands pulling me out of the abyss.
The next day and the day after are no different. I’m physically fine. My mother takes me home.
I’d been cold in the water. That was all. There will be no lasting damage . . . physically.
My dad wants to pretend nothing happened. My mom wants me to move on and be the bright kid I used to be. What she doesn’t understand is that any light in me was because of Michael, and the light inside me was extinguished in those dark waters.
None of Michael’s family visits me. They won’t speak to me either. I ask Mom if I can call Amelia, but my mom gets a dark cloud over her face and tells me not to.
She looks stricken.
I don’t understand. At least it’s still summer and I don’t have to face school yet. Lizzy stands by me. When my parents are working she’ll come over and hang out. I can see there’s a clear effort not to leave me alone.
“Why haven’t I heard from Michael’s family?” I ask Lizzy, almost a month after it happened. We’re sitting outside on her deck, her parents are grilling nearby. It’s a pleasant late summer night. I sit quietly, holding a cup of tea that Lizzy’s mom made me. It’s as comforting as anything can be.
Lizzy’s face clouds. Her beautiful features pucker. “Um, your mom said not to talk about it with you.”
“Mom’s not here,” I point out. “We’re starting junior year. After that is senior year. She’s never going to treat me like an adult. Don’t let her drag you into that as well.”
Lizzy sighs and looks out at her lawn and the deeply green forest beyond.
“Amelia doesn’t want to talk to you because her mom blames you for what happened to Michael.” My friend’s eyes are locked on mine, full of concern.
I feel like I’ve been punched in the gut. The world continues to spin, Lizzy’s parents continue to grill, but my own world has come to a standstill.
“She blames me for his dying?” I ask, confused.
“I guess she never liked that you two went out there, and she always told him not to swim,” Lizzy says. “So, he wouldn’t have been out there if not for you.”
I’m silent. There’s just nothing to say. Lizzy reaches across the empty space between us and touches me on the arm. I jerk at the contact as if I’ve been stung, and her eyes dull a little.
“It wasn’t your fault,” she says. “It was an accident, and it wasn’t your fa
ult.”
My lip quivers. It was Michael’s idea to go out there that night. But his mother is right, he wouldn’t have been out there if not for me.
I feel ill.
“She just misses her son,” Lizzy says. “Amelia wants to support her mom. They’ll come around.”
I wasn’t so sure. Michael’s mom had never wanted us dating. She thought we were too young for a serious relationship and had told Michael so.
“All kinds of teenagers do stuff every day that’s way crazier than you and Michael ever did,” Lizzy continues. “It was just a freak accident.”
I can’t sit there any longer, so I dash into the house and cry in the bathroom. Lizzy lets me, because she knows I need my space and I need time to heal. I remember that night again and I remember Michael. I’m afraid I’ll forget certain details, so I replay them a million times over in my mind. It can’t possibly be healthy.
When I make my way back out to the patio, Lizzy’s parents and Lizzy are sitting around the table. It’s a Saturday, and her dad is just now sitting down to read the newspaper. They’re talking in hushed tones.
“It’s just awful,” Lizzy’s mother says. “That poor boy.”
“What poor boy?” Lizzy asks, frowning as she takes a big helping of spaghetti. Lizzy is one of those girls who can eat a massive amount of carbs and still stay stick thin. Sometimes I wonder where it all goes.
“Jackson’s dad was arrested for beating his mom a few days ago. There aren’t a lot of details about what happened, but the neighbors think it’s been going on for years. Jackson’s mom died yesterday,” Lizzy’s dad says quietly. They all look at me, but I’m too preoccupied to wonder why.
“He was such a nice young man,” says Lizzy’s mom. “Always so polite. He must be devastated.”
“He used to mow the lawn, didn’t he?” Lizzy asks.
“He did all sorts of odd jobs around town,” answers Lizzy’s dad. “His parents’ income was pretty erratic. That’s probably why they sent him to live with his grandfather so many times.”
I pick at my food, remembering that night, the water, the loneliness. I look up at Lizzy and wonder if I’ll always be lonely.
I gasp awake, drenched in sweat. I look around my room. It’s still dark. I don’t keep a clock in my room because the lights bother me, but I grab my phone and see that it’s three a.m.
I have work in the morning, and reliving nightmares couched in memories is not a good way to get to sleep. I get up, grab a drink of water, and look out the window, trying to forget.
Chapter Eighteen - JJ
The incident, if you can call it that, at the bar with the bouncers and Nora sobers me. I thought I was sure that the protectiveness I felt for her just stemmed from our shared history, but when I stop to really think about it I have to admit to myself that there’s more to it. I need to talk to her. How can someone I’ve barely spoken with consume such a place in my heart and my mind?
It’s three in the morning and I can’t sleep. Jessie has spent another night at her place because she doesn’t like it when I come home late and wake her up, which means it’s just me and Anabella. The cat is happily curled on my lap as I stare out the window. She purrs loudly as I stroke her absently.
I’m wondering just how long it’s going to take to fall asleep when my phone buzzes. Three a.m. calls, even for a bar owner, are never good.
I groan when I see that it’s Sylvan’s number. Normally when Sylvan calls it’s a good thing, but not at this time of night.
“Hey,” he says. His voice is gruff and alert. He’s on patrol. “Sorry to wake you up, except that it doesn’t sound like you were asleep.”
“What happened?” I ask, already panicking.
“Nothing major, just a little minor vandalism to your windows,” says Sylvan, “but I thought you’d want to come and check it out.”
“I’m on my way,” I say. Carefully I transfer Anabella so that she has the chair to herself. She curls up, but the purring has stopped, and a pair of yellow eyes is glaring at me. I hastily put on my shoes and hurry downstairs, hop in my truck, and drive as fast as I dare in the empty streets to the Remember.
When I get there, Sylvan is waiting for me. He’s alone. This isn’t the first time this has happened. The other two times, both in the last six months, we made a bigger deal about it and the next vandalism was worse. Now he’s just casually resting against his squad car.
He waves a hand at my windows. There’s some black spray paint on them in a graphic design. Sylvan shakes his head. “You should be able to wash that off. I’m going to take a drive around the bloc, then let’s get coffee.”
“You already got pictures of it?” I say, taking out my phone and taking pictures of my own. I want to get this cleaned up before anyone sees it, especially kids, but I don’t want to erase evidence.
“Yeah, a lot,” he says, moving his burly frame away from his car. “I already sent them in.”
I take out my keys and Sylvan drives away. An hour later he’s back, and the windows are clean.
“Good as new,” says Sylvan as he rolls down his window. “Now, what’s open for coffee?”
We both already know the answer: our favorite diner is open all night, and that’s where we’ll go. I hop into his car, and it only takes us a few minutes to get over there.
When we’re seated Sylvan says, “You gotta do something about those guys over at the Black Jack.”
I glance around, but the place is empty, so I just shrug.
“What do you want me to do? Retaliate?” I ask harshly. “Not who I am and not what my grandfather stood for.”
I can see in his eyes that Sylvan understands me.
“I’m sorry we haven’t put a stop to it,” he says quietly.
“I know you are,” I say. And I mean it. “Now, let’s talk about something else.”
Sylvan looks thoughtful for a second, then breaks into a grin. “Who’s the girl?”
I choke on my coffee and his grin only gets bigger. There’s a misconception about guys that we don’t talk to each other about girls. It’s wrong.
I shrug, trying to appear nonchalant. “What do you care? Aren’t you a confirmed bachelor?”
Sylvan is really more of a confirmed player, but he tries to find women who feels the same way he does. He doesn’t want anyone getting hurt.
“Just trying to keep up with my friend,” he says. “I’d feel terrible if I were out of the loop.”
“As I’m sure Ben knew, which is why he mentioned it to you,” I say dryly. Sylvan just chuckles.
“Her name’s Nora,” I say, when Sylvan just waits.
When he still doesn’t say anything, I look out the window. Sylvan knows about my mom. All of my close friends do, but I’ve never talked about that night with anyone, because some things are too important to lessen with mere words.
It’s time, though, so I tell Sylvan now, and he listens quietly. I’m sure that as my best friend he can see in my eyes and the tensing of my body how much of an impact that night had on me.
“She just kept screaming,” I say quietly. “Of course.” It was entirely understandable, but somehow, her mother’s blaming me for Nora’s catatonic state for months afterward hurt.
“It was just easier than blaming herself, or even worse, Nora,” says Sylvan. “You were a hero.”
I laugh bitterly. “Always there just too late to save anyone.” Sylvan knew I wasn’t just talking about Michael.
“So, she comes into the bar?” Sylvan asks. “Have I seen her?”
“She’s been there when you were,” I say. “She’s worn black.”
Sylvan nods. “Sat on the end? With her gorgeous friend?”
Now it’s my turn to chuckle. “Yeah. Pretty sure her friend has a boyfriend.”
“For now,” says Sylvan mischievously. “If I were dating a girl that looked like she does, there’s no way I would leave her alone for the summer. Do you have plans to see them again?”
“
I told them to come into the Remember,” I say. I’m not willing to admit how much it bothers me that I don’t have plans to see her again.
Just then I hear the doorbell jingle and for some reason I turn. There, at like five in the morning, is Nora.
Chapter Nineteen - Nora
I can’t sleep. I don’t want to walk around by myself in the dark, because even if we live in a safe neighborhood, it only takes one crazy person for something unforgivable to happen. By the time the sun is coming up I’ve accepted that I’m not going to get back to sleep, and I decide to go in search of coffee.
The diner everyone talks about isn’t far from my place, or from the Remember, so I throw on jeans and a hoodie and head there. It’s a cute little place and looks practically deserted. There’s just a cop car out front. I head inside and instantly see a familiar set of broad shoulders sitting in the corner.
JJ is sitting across from an incredibly good-looking guy in uniform. He has close-cropped hair and blue eyes that I can see sparkling from here. Our eyes meet just as I see JJ’s torso twist and a set of intense gray eyes meet my confused ones. I look down just in time for the waitress to come over and say, “Sit anywhere you like.” She gives me a smile and I nod at her. JJ is gesturing to me, inviting me to join him and his friend.
I hesitate, but there’s really no way to get out of it. My nerves start to tingle, but I’m not sure if it’s from jitteriness or attraction.
“Morning,” says JJ, grinning up at me. “For the record, I like to be stalked after eleven a.m. I like to be alert and awake to my fans.” The guy sitting across from him groans into his coffee cup, but I know JJ is just trying to make me laugh.
He’s leaning his elbows on the table, while his friend sits forward as I walk up. When I don’t respond he says, “Fancy running into you again.”
“I guess this is a smaller town than I thought,” I say.
JJ stands up and grabs a chair from the next table, placing it so that I’m sitting between him and the cop.
