by Nina Lane
I’d thought I could get away from him when I turned eighteen. In some ways I had, but I’d been forced to stay in Castille. I’d cut off all contact with my father and stopped working at the brewpub, but I’d had shitty high-school grades and a juvenile delinquency record that a judge—one of my father’s poker buddies—had refused to seal when I turned eighteen.
Ford’s College had been the only place to offer me conditional admission. If I enrolled in certain courses, maintained a good GPA, and completed work-study programs, they would let me in.
I’d jumped at the chance. Ford’s had an exceptional Marine Sciences program, and for the first time in my life, I’d envisioned the possibility of a future studying ocean conservation.
Now I was heading into my fifth year of a full course load and two jobs. One more year of ass-busting work, and I’d graduate. After that, I planned to apply for work at the Marine Science Institute in New York.
Then I’d get out of this godforsaken town for good. Leave Kevin Danforth in the dust where he belonged.
I grabbed a soda from the fridge and headed outside where the air was cooler and smelled like salt. The Castille Harbor stretched out beside a park and playground. Houses clustered the area leading to downtown.
A tree-dotted hill sloped toward the opposite end of the cove, indicating the town’s southern boundary. Though teenagers sometimes climbed the hill for clandestine drinking parties, it was deserted aside from a lopsided little cottage that Josie’s father had built for her mother to use as an art studio. Sometimes I saw the cottage lights on at night, but usually the hill was dark.
I pulled a rusted lawn chair to the dock and sat, opening the cold soda. The night air cooled my heat a little.
Josie Mays. She’d always been the one person who never thought I was my shitty reputation. In fact, she’d always seemed to like me. As kids, I’d found her cute but pesky, and in high school she’d stood apart from her giggly friends with a quiet observance that made me think she could see right through me. If I let her.
And now she was a stunning, green-eyed young woman who tasted like cherries and whose curvy body fit so perfectly against mine…
No. I wouldn’t let myself think about Josie as she was now, but I’d never forget the first time she rescued me.
* * *
Eleven years ago
* * *
“Are you lost?” A girl’s voice broke the silence of the woods.
I looked up from my crouched position by the tree, slamming the world atlas closed in front of me. A skinny dark-haired girl, maybe seven or eight, in a faded Scooby-Doo T-shirt and worn shorts stood nearby, her fingers hooked in the straps of a red backpack.
I scowled. She blinked.
“You’re lost.” She gestured to the dense woods around us.
“I’m not lost.”
She fisted her hands on her hips. “Then what are you doing here?”
“None of your business.” I got to my feet. I was tall for an eleven-year-old, and I stepped toward her to intimidate her with my superior size. “What are you doing here?”
“I cut through the woods on my way home from school sometimes. I look for injured squirrels or birds. I take them home and my dad calls the wildlife people so we know what to do. If you want, you can come with me.”
“No, thanks.”
She regarded me frankly. “Who are you?”
“Cole.”
“I’m Josie.” She took off her backpack and dropped it to the ground. “Well, Josephine. But only when my mom’s mad. Which isn’t often. So mostly I’m just Josie.”
“Whatever.” I sank back down beside the tree trunk.
“You’re Cole like the black stuff my dad uses to make burgers?”
“What? No. It’s C-o-l-e, not c-o-a-l.”
“Oh.” She scratched her head. Her ponytail was falling out. “Do you go to Castille Elementary?”
“Yeah.” Because of the small class sizes, the elementary and middle schools in this town were combined. Which meant everyone knew everyone else and you couldn’t get away from teachers who had you pegged as a bad kid.
“What grade?” She unzipped her backpack. It was bright red with yellow daisies and the name JOSIE printed in blue letters. Really dumb looking.
“Fifth.”
“I’m in third.” She started taking stuff out of her backpack—a plastic bag of books, a notebook, a worn stuffed rabbit with floppy ears. “My teacher is Miss Henderson. She’s nice. We read books about birds sometimes and eat graham crackers.”
“Good for you.”
“What’s that?” She indicated the worn atlas.
“A book of maps.”
“Cool. I like maps. Italy looks like a boot.”
She didn’t seem to care that I didn’t want to talk to her. She finally pulled a plastic bag of crumbly goldfish crackers out of her backpack and sat cross-legged beside me.
“Want one?” She held the bag out.
Though I was starving—my mother had forgotten to give me lunch money, which happened often—I shook my head.
She ate a cracker. “How come I’ve never seen you?”
“We moved here a couple weeks ago.”
“You mean your family?”
I scowled again. “Yeah. What’d you think I meant?”
She shrugged. “Where do you live?”
“I don’t know. A house. I don’t know the street.”
“I live at 546 Poppy Lane. I have an older sister named Vanessa. My mom is an artist. My dad works at the post office and writes books about history. He’s the president of the Castille Historical Society. And sometimes he delivers the mail. Sometimes he just sorts it out. I’ve gone with him to work a few times. It’s fun.”
Fun. Envy stabbed me. I’d never had fun with my father. Never would.
I rolled my eyes to show her I didn’t care.
“Do you like to fish?” she asked.
“I don’t know.”
“Swim?”
Swimming was one of the only things I liked. When we first moved to Castille, I’d found an isolated little swimming hole where I could go whenever I wanted. One of the few bearable things about having Kevin Danforth as a father was that he didn’t pay attention to where I was—if I wasn’t supposed to be at school or the brewery.
“I like to swim,” I said.
“We play Kick The Can sometimes on our street. You could come, if you want.”
“Never played it.”
“I could show you.”
“No thanks.”
She finally shut up. The only sounds were the birds and Josie crunching goldfish crackers. When she’d finished the bag, she crumpled it up and stuffed it into her pocket.
“So, you want to come with me?” She started putting her crap back into her backpack. “I’m going to look for more animals and then get an ice cream.”
“You seem a little young to be running around by yourself.”
“I’m not running. I’m walking.”
“Whatever.”
“Usually Vanessa walks home with me, but she had track after school.” She hitched her backpack onto her shoulders. It was too big for her, making her look like a turtle. “Sure you don’t want to come with me?”
She was…what? Seven? I couldn’t let her wander around the woods all by herself. What if a serial killer was hiding in the bushes?
Slowly I got to my feet again and picked up my backpack. “Well, okay. But only because you could get lost.”
“Oh, I never get lost.” She lifted her chin. “I come out here all the time with my dad. Camping and hiking and stuff. It’s easy once you know the way.”
“Whatever.”
She started marching off like she actually did know the way. As I started after her, my foot kicked a ratty, polka-dot notebook that she’d taken out of her backpack. The pages were open, fluttering in the slight breeze. I picked it up and glanced over the drawings of animals—foxes, badgers, raccoons, moose, owls. All with l
ittle accessories, like hats, canes, and scarves.
I guessed they were okay drawings for a little kid.
“You forgot your book.” I glanced in the direction she’d gone, but she was nowhere to be seen.
Unease hit me. Either she really was fast, or she’d gotten abducted.
“Hey!” What was her name again?
Slinging my pack over my shoulder, I hurried after her. I caught a glimpse of her bright red backpack and swinging ponytail through the trees. I blew out a relieved breath. She was just too small to be out here by herself.
“Hey, you forgot this!” I called.
She stopped and turned, rolling her eyes. “Oh geez. That’s my storybook about Mr. Peddler and Ms. Nutbaum. Thanks.”
She tucked the notebook into her backpack and started walking again. I followed and let her lead me out of the woods, where I’d definitely been lost.
Chapter 3
Josie
* * *
“And not only did he walk away after kissing me like he was starving and I was an entire chocolate cake with frosting…” I spread my arms out in remembered outrage “…but he rejected my coffee invitation, of all things. Coffee, Vanessa. I didn’t propose marriage.”
“Well.” My sister eyed me with speculation as she twisted a lock of thick blonde hair around her forefinger. “I realize dating has never been your thing, but protocol dictates that the coffee date comes before the hot kiss.”
“I know.” I groaned and flopped back on the white sofa in her condo living room. For the past week, I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about Cole. “That’s the problem. I totally screwed it up and scared him away. If I try and contact him through the student directory, he’ll think I’m stalking him.”
“Are you sure he doesn’t have a girlfriend?”
“No, of course I’m not sure. But as far as I know, he didn’t have any girlfriends in high school.”
“He’s been in college for four years.” Vanessa arched a delicately plucked eyebrow. “If he’s as hot as you say, then he’s definitely had girlfriends.”
“God.” I put my hands over my face, embarrassment rising to my cheeks. “What was I thinking? He’s always seen me as a helpless little squirrel he’d found in the woods. Now that I’m in college, I think I’ve suddenly transformed into a swan? And that Cole Danforth will get all googly-eyed and tongue-tied at the sight of my beauty? I mean, I was wearing torn jean shorts and my Save the Bumblebee T-shirt. I had zero makeup and probably ketchup on my chin.”
“Okay, first of all you’re not allowed to have a pity party.” Vanessa lifted her hands, her expression sympathetic. “And second, Cole was a troubled kid. His mother had serious mental issues, and obviously that affected him. You can’t blame his twitchiness on anything you did when he’s got a whole cart full of baggage. Cut him some slack and try another approach. I would, however, not recommend flinging yourself at him again for an impromptu lip-lock.”
“I’m not sorry I did it.” I rose onto my elbows to look at her. “It was really hot, and I swear to you he kissed me back. But I realize I freaked him out. So if he won’t have a stupid cup of coffee with me, what am I supposed to do?”
“Find a connection, something you remember from when you were kids. Meet him on his own territory so he feels like he’s the one in control.”
“The first time we met, he was looking at an atlas. He used to love maps.” I scrunched my forehead. “Am I supposed to go over to the Marine Sciences building and bring him a map? He’ll think I’m such a dork.”
“Doesn’t he already?” Amusement filled my sister’s eyes.
“Thanks, Homecoming Queen.”
She laughed and approached me. “Josie, that’s probably why he’s always kind of looked out for you. Why he likes you. You’re this super cute, dorky little artist who always has paint on her clothes. He wants to take care of you.”
“Then why did he walk away?”
“Ask him.” She squeezed my shoulder in comfort and picked up the empty popcorn bowl I’d left on the table. “You’re overthinking this. You and Cole already know each other, so that’s half the battle. Do you know where he hangs out besides school and the pier?”
“He said he swims at some section of Eagle Canyon, but that place is huge. I wouldn’t know where to begin looking for him.” I bit my lip. “He said it’s hard to reach, which is why he goes there.”
A thought struck me. “He said it was near some stone ruins. But I don’t know of any ruins in Eagle Canyon.”
“There used to be an old stone tower off Spiral Pass.” Vanessa brought the bowl into the kitchen, calling over her shoulder. “I remember Dad talking about it once when it was on the Historical Society agenda. I guess they took it off the preservation list or whatever because it was falling apart and they didn’t have the money to reconstruct it.”
“Where is it?” I took out my phone and searched for Spiral Pass. “It’s not on the map.”
“It’s just a pile of rubble now.” Vanessa returned and held out her hand for my phone. “We stopped there once on the way to the cabin when I was around fourteen. I can’t remember any swimming hole, though. Here.”
She pointed to a narrow, barely visible road off the winding Spiral Pass.
“Should I just show up?” I asked.
“Why not? He might not even be there.” She sat back down at her desk. “Then again, he might. Just don’t wander too far by yourself, and be sure you have your phone with you.”
“There’s no signal that far up Eagle Canyon.”
“There’s a clear spot where those ruins are,” Vanessa said. “Dad called one of the Historical Society people when we stopped there. They had this ridiculously long conversation about erosion and crumbling mortar. I was so bored.”
Though my chances of actually finding Cole at the tower ruins were slim, I saw no reason not to give it a shot. Even if I didn’t see him, I could spend the weekend at the cabin and do some sketching. I shoved my phone back into my pocket and sat up.
“I have to get to work in half an hour. What else did you want to talk about?”
“Mom and Dad’s twenty-fifth anniversary is next June.” Vanessa opened her floral planner and studied a page of notes. “They have their trip to Europe planned, but I was thinking we could throw them a surprise party. Like a big, all-out, once-in-a-lifetime bash with everyone we know. We could have a catered dinner, cake, disc jockey, the whole works.”
“That’s a great idea. Where would we have it?”
“The Seagull Inn has that big room they rent out for private parties. It’s available the Saturday night before Mom and Dad leave for Europe, so I went ahead and booked it.”
“I can paint signs and get photo posters made.” I snapped my fingers. “Oh, one of my fellow students is also a roaming magician. He does parties and stuff all the time. I can ask him to come. And since we’ll probably have a lot of families there, we could even do face painting and maybe a balloon artist.”
“Awesome.” Anticipation lit in her eyes. “Can you look into hiring people for that stuff? I’ll start checking out caterers and DJs.”
“Sure.” I pulled on my beat-up leather boots and stood. “You think we should plan this far in advance? It’s a full year.”
“I know, but June is prime wedding season, and everyone gets booked up really early. We need to get things scheduled now.”
“Okay.” I headed to the door. “I’ll let you know what I find out.”
“Don’t forget Mom’s art exhibit opening Friday night,” Vanessa called after me. “Want me to pick you up?”
“Sure. I’m taking Teddy to see the new Avengers movie Friday afternoon, so he’ll be with me.” Our twelve-year-old brother had yet to outgrow superheroes, much to my delight. “Just text me what time we should be ready.”
Vanessa eyed me warily, raking her gaze over my torn jeans and Free Spirit T-shirt. “And what do you intend to wear, sister of mine?”
“Uh…
something nice?”
Vanessa crossed her arms and gave me her “how are we sisters?” look. It was true that we were like salt and pepper—of the same family, but very different.
Aside from our different social statuses, Vanessa paid attention to things like color highlights and manicures. She worked for an interior design firm and lived in a beautiful, shabby chic condo. I wore paint-spattered jeans, chewed my fingernails, and lived in a shoebox apartment crammed with garage-sale furniture and art supplies.
“I’ll wear the red jersey dress,” I assured my sister.
“Okay. Don’t forget lipstick.”
I hustled myself out of there before she could remind me about mascara too.
* * *
Sucking on a red gummy bear, I drove up the narrow, winding road ascending Eagle Mountain. Trees blanketed either side of the pass, with several precarious ledges jutting over the canyon. Far below, a river flowed through the steep rock formations, creating multiple waterfalls and swimming holes.
Ever since I could remember, our family had spent many summer weekends at the cabin nestled deep in the mountain. Heavenly Daze, my father had named it. The lack of TV and cell phone signals allowed us to do all the things he loved—hiking, fishing, campfires, board games, reading.
The road Vanessa had told me led to the ruins was almost unnoticeable, a single dirt lane whose entrance was half-covered by brush. I eased my car off Spiral Pass and followed the road. The ruins weren’t far from the pass, a pile of huge stones arranged in a semi-circle. Beside them was a beat-up old Ford, which just might…
My insides tightened. It was a hot Saturday afternoon, perfect for swimming, so it was entirely possible the car belonged to someone else. It wasn’t as if this were private property.
I parked and grabbed my backpack. The sound of rushing water filtered through the trees. Birds twittered, and squirrels rustled through the undergrowth.
