by Callie Hart
Amie was uncontainable.
Rose showed up in the afternoon, and together we made Christmas dinner. We exchanged gifts—I’d bought her a new Coach purse online. She’d bought me a beautiful cashmere scarf all the way from Scotland—and once we were done with the food and the gifts, and the children were crashed out face first on the sofa, she turned to me and said, “Off you go, then.”
“I’m sorry?”
“Don’t play coy with me, girl. I may have pretended I didn’t know what was going on before, but I’ve witnessed my fair share of Fletcher-infatuated women to recognize one when I see one now. So go. And tell him Merry Christmas from me, okay? I nailed a sock full of coal to his front door this morning. I’m sure he saw the funny side.”
I sat there, debating whether I should stay and argue with her, denying any knowledge of this Fletcher-infatuation she was referring to, or whether I should just gracefully accept defeat and come clean. In the end, there was only one thing for it.
“I’m really sorry,” I told her, groaning. “It wasn’t meant to happen. He’s just…he’s so infuriating. He gets to you, and then he gets to you some more. Before you know it, he’s all you can think about, and you find yourself wishing you’d never laid eyes on him in the first place, but it’s too late, and—”
“And he’s the one.”
“The most inappropriate, unorthodox, unreliable one there ever was.”
Rose gave me a pitying look. “Don’t we all just know it? Funny how the knowing doesn’t change anything, isn’t it?”
I hung my head, feeling pretty sorry for myself. “It’s the worst.”
******
I hadn’t opened Sully’s gift. I sat in the car outside the lighthouse, too afraid to get out of the car and go inside, knowing that he must have heard me pull up. I held the small present he’d left for me in my hands, turning it over and over, worrying the corners of the paper under my shaking hands. I was scared. What if it was something and nothing? A pair of socks? A gift certificate to a bookstore? The box was the wrong size and shape to be either of those things, but the thought was still there. What if it was a throw away gift that meant nothing? Was that worse than him giving me something that meant too much? Jewelry? Something personal and handmade like he’d given to the children? Either way, I was screwed.
The passenger door to the car opened all of a sudden, scaring the crap out of me. I’d been staring so intently down at the gift that I hadn’t noticed Sully leave the lighthouse and make his way over to the car. His cheeks were flushed red from the cold, and his wavy hair was swept back out of his face. Still the handsomest man I’d ever seen.
He climbed up into the car and made himself comfortable in the passenger seat. Not looking at me, he slammed the door closed and then stared straight ahead out of the windshield. Neither of us said anything at first. And then, “Aren’t you going to open it?”
“I’ve been thinking about it,” I admitted. “The children loved their gifts. Thank you.”
Sully shrugged, blowing onto his hands. “No big deal.” He was trying to pretend that it wasn’t, but both he and I knew how much effort he’d put into those gifts. How long they would have taken him to make—hours and hours. Both gifts were labors of love. It really was a big deal. “It smells like Christmas threw up in here,” Sully observed.
It really did. I’d set aside a plate of food for him when we’d dished up dinner without really thinking about it. A flask of mulled wine leaked cinnamon and spice smells into the car, which mingled with the scent of turkey, stuffing and gravy to produce an undeniably festive oratory assault.
“If you don’t want the food I can always take it home with me.”
“Are you kidding? I’ve been waiting for you for hours. I’m starving.”
“How did you know I was coming?”
Sully glanced sideways at me, mouth open in a smile. “There’s this part in The Sound of Music, where Maria’s trying to deny her true feelings for the stuffy old Von Trapp bastard. He’s fallen down some stairs or some shit, and everyone thinks she won’t go to him, that she’ll let him figure out his shit for himself or whatever because he’s been a grade A cunt to her, but then at the end of the film, just as the Nazis are about to cart old Von Trapp off to Auschwitz, Maria shows up with a machine gun and rescues his ass. Well, she tries to rescue him and gets herself captured in the process, so he actually has to save her in the end, but it all works out.”
I just look at him blankly. “Have you ever actually seen The Sound of Music, Sully?”
“Of course I have. Everyone’s seen The Sound of Music.”
“I think you might be confusing it with a few other movies.”
“Maybe,” he agreed, nodding. “There’s a very strong possibility that you’re right there.”
I slapped my hand over my heart, feigning shock. “My god. Did Sully Fletcher just admit I might be right about something?”
He laughed, scathing and amused all at once. “Don’t push your luck, Lang. Drive me somewhere, will you? I’m so fucking sick of looking at this lighthouse.”
“It’s dark.”
“I know. That’s the best part.”
He was a strange, strange man. I drove with the headlights turned off, winding my way down narrow single track roads, curving along the coastline until I reached a wide turnout point at the edge of a cliff face, overlooking the ocean.
“Get out and sit with me,” Sully commanded. He reached through to the back seat, pulling a face—his ribs were obviously still a little twingy, despite the four-week period he’d had to recover—and picked up the bag with the food and mulled wine in it. He got out of the car without saying another word and walked off into the dark.
I waited a second. It was freezing cold out there, and he’d only just recovered from a severe bout of hypothermia. The man really was crazy. Certifiable. Still, no point sitting in the car. He seemed pretty determined when he got out and walked off. I had very little choice but to get out and follow after him.
The ocean was roaring, crashing into the cliff face, spitting icy flecks of salt water up at the land. I found Sully leaning against a flat ledge of rock, brushing snow off it with his bare hands.
“Sit down.” He pointed at the bare rock, eyes set, firm, daring me to deny him.
I sat. He joined me, leg pressed up against mine, and started handing me things out of the bag I’d packed at home: turkey; potatoes in tin foil; yams; a small container of gravy, lid screwed on tight.
“I didn’t bring any paper plates or forks. I assumed we’d be eating at your place. We can’t eat out of the tinfoil, Sully.”
“Why the hell not?” He picked up a piece of candied yam and dipped it into the tub of gravy, then popped it into his mouth, flashing me a grin.
I rolled my eyes. “You know they’re probably gonna find our bodies here in four days’ time, frozen to this rock, right?” My ass was already numb.
“Don’t be such a baby.” He shifted closer to me, though, putting an arm around my shoulders, pulling me into him.
We both ate one-handed, in silence, listening to the ocean beat against the foundations of the island. Out to sea, in the very far distance, the lights of freight ships and tankers winked and flashed red and green, as if marking the holiday.
Once we were finished, Sully cleared away the mess left over from our meal and got out the mulled wine, pouring out a healthy measure into the top of the flask. “We’ll share,” he said, handing it to me. I held the lid containing the piping hot liquid in my hands until I could feel my fingers again, and then I drank and passed it to him.
“This month has been shit,” he said quietly under his breath. “I didn’t realize how shit it was going to be. And don’t you tell me you’ve been having a great time, because I know you haven’t.”
“I have.”
“I went to Connor’s play,” he blurted. “I sat at the back. I made sure he didn’t see me.”
“You did?” I couldn’t bel
ieve it. The presents this morning had thrown me, but this was something else altogether.
Sully nodded, and then drank some of the wine. He seemed lost in thought, eyes shining dimly even though the night was pitch black around us. “I just wanted to see him. See both of them. Everyone on the island is always arguing about who they look like—Ronan or Magda. I guess I wanted to make up my mind for myself.”
“Oh.” I took the wine from him. “What did you decide?”
“They look like Ronan the most. Which means they also look like me.” This thought didn’t seem to make him happy. His left hand tightened into a fist in his lap. “I wasn’t expecting that. I should have been expecting it, but I wasn’t. Goddamnit, Lang, will you open your damn present already? It’s making me flip out knowing that we’re sitting here with it in your pocket.”
I wanted to know more about what he’d seen the night of Connor’s play, what he’d been thinking as he watched his brother’s son recite his lines, perhaps catching glimpses of Amie and me in the shadowy crowd, but his confession had obviously made him uncomfortable, and he clearly didn’t want to talk about it anymore. I took the gift out of my pocket and held it up, studying it with one eye closed.
“Can I shake it?” I asked.
“Sure.”
Nothing breakable inside, then. I shook it, and the slender package rattled, many small pieces bouncing around inside. “Hmm.” I unwrapped it carefully, and then lifted the lid of the plain blue box underneath, to reveal USB drives. Six, seven, eight of them, each one the same slim, silver design with a small lanyard attached.
“What the hell are these?” I asked, laughing.
Sully picked one up out of the box and held it up, grinning wickedly. “These are the downloaded files from my unit’s shared drive when I was deployed, Miss Ophelia Lang from California. Each one is twenty gigs of uncensored hardcore porn, courtesy of Specialist Crowe. Seriously, I hope you understand how honored you should be. These USB sticks are my most prized possessions.”
I gaped at the box, horrified. “Are you kidding me? How many…how many hours of porn is that?”
“God knows. At least a hundred.” He threw the USB back in the box. “Maybe two.”
“Should I be thanking you right now?”
“Only if you mean it,” he said, winking.
“Well, I don’t. God, what am I supposed to do with two hundred hours of porn, Sully?”
“Watch it. Give yourself carpal tunnel. Make yourself happy, girl.”
“I am not…urgh!” I thought about dumping the scalding hot wine I was holding down the back of his jacket. I thought about punching him in the balls, too, but I got the feeling he was expecting this reaction and was already preparing to block my attack. “Why do you have to be such a dick, Sully Fletcher?” I growled.
He sighed heavily and threw his arm back around my shoulder, pulling me to him again. “I told you. I promised I’d be a super asshole. To protect you.”
“Ha! To protect me.” I squirmed, trying to get up, but he held onto me tight.
“Yeah,” he said. “To protect you.” And then, much quieter, “And to protect me, too.”
I waited a long time, leaning against him, breathing him in, before it felt like the right time to speak. “You know, I have something for you, too, Sully.”
“A Christmas gift?”
“Not really. Just…something I thought you should have.” I couldn’t be sure giving him Magda’s journal was the right thing to do—he’d said at Rose’s party he never wanted to see it again. I just couldn’t shake the fact that I certainly didn’t have any business keeping it in my possession. I withdrew the hard, leather-bound journal from the inside of my jacket and held onto it with both hands, looking down at it. I gave it to Sully, cringing.
“Jesus,” he whispered. “I guess I deserve this after the porn.”
“That’s not all of it,” I told him.
“It gets worse?”
I fished the small piece of ribbon and polished metal out of my pocket, dropping it into Sully’s open hand. I closed his fingers around it, sighing. “Ronan may have let you down, Sully, but a medal is a big deal. He earned it. You should have it. You should keep it. One day, you might be able to look at it and be proud of him.”
Sully uncurled his fingers one at a time, looking down at the Purple Heart in the palm of his hand. His shoulders rounded in, his posture sagging.
“Thank you, Lang.”
“You’re not mad?”
“No. I’m not mad, I promise.” He slowly got to his feet, holding the journal and the medal stiffly, as if they were live grenades, about to go off any second. I should have known what was coming next. I should have seen it coming. I didn’t, though. Sully took two long, purposeful strides toward the edge of the cliff face, and he launched Magda’s journal over the side into the roaring dark ocean. Pages exploded everywhere like white birds, diving down into the churning water below.
“Sully! Oh my god!”
He turned and looked at me. “The past is the past, Lang. What’s the point in hiding it in a drawer, letting it fester?” He held up the medal, looking at it briefly before drawing back his arm.
“Sully, wait!”
He paused.
“Are you sure? Are you really sure you want to do that?”
He gave me a small, sad mile. “More than anything in the world.” The medal rocketed into the night, immediately vanishing from view. I didn’t see it hit the water. I didn’t hear the splash. It was there one moment, sitting in Sully’s hand. The next minute, it was gone.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
The Observatory
The light was on at the lighthouse when we got back. A pillar of yellow light blasted out of the round observatory at the top of the building, sweeping slowly back and forth out toward the ocean. “Whoa, I didn’t realize this was a working lighthouse. Why didn’t I notice that when I pulled up earlier?”
“It’s on a timer,” Sully said. “I don’t have to do anything. It just comes on when it’s supposed to. Goes off the same way. I essentially get paid to change the light bulb every once in a while, and that’s it.”
I knew what was going to happen if we went inside. I went inside anyway. Sully was right. The past month really had been shitty, and today was Christmas Day, damnit. I wasn’t going to deny myself anymore. Not for the next twelve hours, anyway. Tomorrow might be a different story, but for now…
“Do you want a drink?” Sully held up a bottle of wine, lifting one eyebrow.
“Whiskey?” I countered.
Sully grinned. “This is why I like you, Lang. You never fail to surprise.” He disappeared back into the kitchen; when he came back he was carrying two rocks glasses each containing a good three shots of whiskey and wearing a curious look on his face. “I don’t think my friend Jared can drive you home tonight if you drink too much, y’know?” he informed me.
“That’s okay. I planned on sleeping in your bed.”
“Oh, is that so?” He handed me my glass and took a sip out of his own, smirking down at me. “Let me guess. I’ll be sleeping on the couch, then?”
I nodded, trying to hide my own smile. “You should be used to it by now, given how often you’ve had to sleep down here recently.”
Sully stuck his tongue out at me—such a playful, cheeky gesture that I was taken by surprise. “Don’t worry, Lang. I’ve actually been sleeping up in the observatory for the last week anyway, so you can have my bed. I like listening to the sound of the waves up there.”
We drank our whiskey and talked. It was strange and comfortable when it should have been anything but. Sully traced the tips of his fingers up and down my arm, barely acknowledging the fact that he was touching me, although I was all too aware of it. My nerve endings were working on overdrive, shiver after shiver traveling through my body.
“So. Do you wanna watch some of that porn or what?” he asked, laughing, face already buried inside his rocks glass as he finished the las
t of his drink.
I didn’t even humor that with a response. Sully laughed openly at the look on my face. “Jesus, Lang. Lighten up. I swear I’m joking.”
Three more drinks in, and he leaned in and kissed me. I knew it was coming this time, so I was prepared. He was gentle. No rushing me. No frantic hands running all over my body. It was almost as if he was worried he shouldn’t be doing it. Our lips met, and we both stayed as still as possible, both breathing erratically, my pulse thumping all over my body. Slowly, he reached up and pressed the palm of his hand against the side of my face. He made a low humming sound, close to a growl, and kissed me harder, parting my lips so he could slide his tongue into my mouth.
This kiss was a slow burn that sank deep down into my bones and settled there. I felt like I was falling into him. Falling backward. Falling, one way or another, and Sully’s arms were around me, holding me tight, ready to catch me. Such a safe feeling, being held in his arms. He was so damned strong. I knew I didn’t need to fear anything if he was holding me, and that in itself was a dangerous thought. He wouldn’t be holding onto me forever. Soon enough he’d be letting me go, and I’d have to figure out how to do the same. It felt impossible to even consider such a thing right now, though, with him stroking his hands lightly over my hair, his mouth working against mine.
“That feeling,” he panted against my mouth. “You know that feeling, where you just can’t seem to get close enough to someone? I never really knew what people were talking about until now, Lang. I wanna…I don’t even know what I want to do. I just know that I don’t want you leaving here tonight. Even if you are sleeping in another room.”
“Good. Because I’m not going anywhere.”
Our faces were so close, only a few inches apart. Looking into his eyes this closely, it was possible to see all of the details I’d missed before. Caramel and gold flecks rimmed his pupils, lightening his eyes, softening them a little. They were so many different colors, all blended and painted together to create the most beautiful chocolate tone. It was more than that, though. Whenever I’d had reason to spend time with Sully before, his intensity had terrified me, and I’d ended up looking away from him. I’d never spent long enough looking at him to see how the microscopic changes to his expression screamed so loudly of what he was thinking or what he was feeling. Now, I was seeing it all.
