by Tara Sivec
“I promise to keep my hands to myself,” he chuckles, holding his hands up in the air.
The fact that he used the exact same words all those years ago the first time he took me to the lighthouse isn’t lost on me. I don’t know if it was a coincidence or if he did it on purpose, but it worked. I’m so lost in memories that I distractedly nod and let him lead me across the street.
An hour later, my belly so full of seafood that I feel like I might explode, I rest my hands on my stomach and lean back in my chair.
Fisher wisely chose the Lobster Bucket for lunch because he knows it’s my favorite place to eat. Our table is littered with the remnants of the crab pot we shared, the butcher paper they threw down on the table piled high with the empty shells of king, Dungeness and snow crab, shrimp, steamed clams and muscles and a few cleaned ears of corn. I’m more than a little surprised and maybe a little sad that Fisher didn’t spend our entire meal trying to charm me or make fun of Stanford in some way. We talked about the inn and Ellie and Bobby and we talked about his woodworking and the orders he’s already received since coming back to the island. Our conversation was easy and friendly, exactly as it was before things went dark.
“There’s no way you’re going to sell Butler House, right? You love that place, Lucy. It’s a part of who you are,” Fisher tells me as we look out at the view and clean off our hands with the lemon-scented wet-naps the restaurant provided.
“Loving it and knowing when it’s time to let it go are two different things,” I tell him softly, suddenly wondering if I’m referring to the inn or him and quickly changing the course of my thoughts.
“Times have changed, Fisher. Nowadays, people want free Wi-Fi and charging stations wherever they go. They want to stay connected to the world, post selfies and tend to their crops on that stupid Farmville game,” I explain in irritation. “They don’t want to unplug from the world around them because they’re afraid they might miss something. They don’t care about the beauty of this place or the peacefulness that being here brings. They don’t care about spending hours just staring out at the ocean and being amazed by what’s right in front of them. They want waterparks and spas and nightclubs and I can’t give that to them. I can’t give them what they want anymore and maybe it’s time for me to see that.”
I realize I circled right back around to my initial thoughts, intermingling my feelings about Fisher and the inn until I don’t know which one I’m actually referring to. He changed, but he never realized that I changed right along with him. The things I wanted and needed morphed and grew while he was away. He was so lost, and I couldn’t give him what he wanted no matter how hard I tried. I can’t live like that anymore, with the inn or with him. I can’t keep banging my head against the wall trying to get people to see that not everything has to change, but sometimes you don’t have a choice. You either change or you fail.
Fisher suddenly gets up from his seat and grabs my hand, pulling me up with him. “Come on, I want to show you something.”
He drags me away from our table, quickly paying for our meal on the way out. I don’t pull my hand away from his even though I should as we step back out onto Main Street and walk a few blocks to the Visitor’s Center. He pushes the door open and we step into the large, air-conditioned building, walking over to a huge bookshelf on the far wall. He finally drops my hand and reaches up onto one of the shelves to grab a large, thick binder, filled with hundreds of papers. He flips it open and turns to me, holding the binder out in front of him.
“Here, look at this.”
I take the binder from him in confusion, looking away from him to a hand-written letter, three-hole punched and attached inside. I scan it quickly and my mouth drops open in shock. It’s a letter to the town from one of the guests of Butler House. It goes into great detail about the beauty of the inn and island and how they appreciated spending a week in an inn that was filled with friendly staff, an amazing owner and the best view on the entire island.
When I get to the bottom, Fisher flips to the next page and I see another letter, similar to the first one, going on and on about how the peace and old-charm of the inn was exactly what they needed. Page after page, letter after letter, the entire binder is filled with notes and cards about how they love that the inn is one of the few on the island that isn’t overwhelmed with all the latest technology and distractions and how they hope it will never change.
Tears run down my cheeks by the time I get to the last page and Fisher quietly takes the binder from my hands and sticks it back up on the shelf.
“Not everything has to change, Lucy. Sometimes, people are perfectly happy with the way things used to be. Life just gets in the way and makes them forget for a little while,” Fisher tells me softly. “My father, some of these people that come here, they’ve lost sight of what’s important, but you never have. That binder proves that what you have here on this island is something worth keeping, something worth fighting for. You can’t stop fighting, Lucy. You can never stop fighting for something you love and something you believe in.”
Wiping away my tears, we head back outside and I try not to think about the fact that I’m certain he was talking about more than the inn.
Before we part ways, he reaches into his back pocket and hands me some folded pieces of paper. I should refuse to take them and just walk away, telling him to stop trying to pull me back to the past, but I don’t. I accept them without a word, get into my golf cart and race back to the inn as fast as I can, where I lock myself in my room and read through the pages of our history, crying harder than I did in the Visitor’s Center.
Chapter 23
From Fisher’s High School Journal
June 22, 2002
The sound of the waves crashing against the beach a few hundred yards away from us as well as Lucy’s soft, breathy moans fill my ear as I slowly push my way inside of her.
She lets out a small gasp of pain and I immediately stop and pull my head back to look into her eyes.
“I’m sorry! Shit, I’m so sorry. I don’t want to hurt you.”
Lucy smiles up at me and I can see tears glistening in her eyes from the light of the moon shining high above us. She reaches up and runs her fingers gently through my hair, over and over, while wrapping her legs around my hips and pulling me closer.
“I’m fine, Fisher. I swear, I’m fine, just keep going.”
She arches up and presses her lips to mine and I have no other choice but to keep going. I move as slowly as possible, even though it’s killing me. She’s feels so amazing wrapped around me that I want to sink myself inside of her as hard as I can to relieve the ache that’s forming in my fucking balls.
My tongue slides through her mouth as slowly as my cock inside of her and she responds immediately, moving her hips against me.
We’ve been officially dating for a little over seven months and I told her numerous times that I was perfectly fine doing what we had already been doing and didn’t need anything more. For the first time since I lost my own virginity at fifteen, I didn’t need sex to prove anything with a girl, but Lucy was insistent that she was ready. I’m not going to lie, I’ve wanted to have sex with her since the first moment I kissed her, but finding new and creative ways to make her come over the last seven months has been nothing short of heaven. In theory, it would have been nice to have this happen spontaneously without any planning, but this was her virginity we’re talking about here. I wanted it to be special and romantic and I did everything I could to make that happen. In the center of a heart-shaped collection of Mason jars illuminated by the candles I’d placed inside each of them, I’d spread out several layers of blankets on the sand to keep it away from us. It wasn’t a bed, but it was the best I could do considering we both still lived at home, her with her parents and me with my grandfather, and privacy was pretty hard to come by.
Bringing her here to the base of the lighthouse where I first realized I was falling for her made it even more special.
“I love you, Lucy. I love you so much,” I whisper in her ear as we rock against each other. I’d thrown a blanket over my ass, shielding both of us from prying eyes should someone decide to come out to the lighthouse.
Her legs tighten around my hips and she pulls me closer, moves me deeper with the muscles in her thighs. I want this to last much longer than it will. I can already feel my orgasm rushing up inside of me and I try to slow it down, but the soft sounds of Lucy’s sighs and her warm breath against my ear are making that impossible. I’m as soft and gentle with her as I can possibly be, showing her as best I can how much she means to me.
Lucy’s hands runs down my back until she’s clutching my ass, urging me to keep going and I get completely lost inside of her. The two orgasms I gave her with my hands and mouth to make sure she was plenty ready for me before I slid into her are the only reason I don’t feel like a two-pump chump. I knew I would hurt her and I wanted to do whatever I could to make it easier.
She whispers how much she loves me and how good I feel inside of her and that’s the end of me thinking I could make this last. Her soft voice saying something so hot pushes me right over the edge and I moan her name against the side of her neck as I come.
After taking a few seconds to catch my breath, I slowly roll off of her and dispose of the condom in a plastic shopping bag that holds the box of Trojans I bought earlier today. Pulling her body against mine, I curl the two of us on our sides and tug the blanket up over both of us. We stare out at the Atlantic, the light from the lighthouse shimmering over the surface of the water every couple of seconds.
“I promise next time I’ll last longer than thirty seconds. Jesus, you would think I was the one losing my virginity,” I laugh sheepishly.
I feel her body shake as she laughs with me. “I told you, Fisher, it’s fine. It was perfect, absolutely perfect.”
I tighten my hold on her with my arms wrapped around her waist and she rests her hands on top of mine.
“Are you scared?” she whispers after a few quiet minutes.
“Not really scared, more nervous than anything,” I admit.
Tomorrow, I head out for twelve weeks of boot camp at Parris Island, South Carolina. Even though it’s not that far away from Fisher’s Island, I’m still not going to be able to come home or see Lucy for three months. Leaving her now is what scares me more than getting my ass kicked by the Marine Corps.
“I know I’ve said this to you a hundred times, but I’m so proud of you, Fisher. I’m proud of you for doing what you believe in no matter what your father wants. I’m going to miss you so much, but I know you’ll do amazing and you’ll be back here before I know it.”
I have no idea how I got so lucky. I’ll never understand why Lucy decided to give me a chance after the reputation I’ve earned over the years, but I am not going to fuck this up. My friends have been giving me shit non-stop ever since Lucy and I started spending more time together and I finally got her to admit that we were a couple. Bobby is the only one who doesn’t rag on me. Maybe it’s because he’s taken the time to get to know her, unlike most of the people in school. He truly likes Lucy and thinks of her like a little sister and he has no problem telling girls right to their face to fuck off when they make snide comments about how I’m slumming it when they see us together. Those bitches are lucky they’ve never said those things in front of me. I think Bobby sees how good Lucy is for me. She makes the fights with my dad more bearable and she makes me want to run back to this island as soon as I can just to be with her again. She makes me appreciate my home, because she IS my home.
“Do you think once you’re finished with boot camp that you’ll get shipped out immediately?” she asks quietly.
I shrug against her, resting my chin on top of her head.
“I don’t know, possibly. It’s all over the news that the shit is really hitting the fan over there. If they tell me to go, I have to go, Lucy. As much as I want to stay here with you and never leave, this is something I believe in, something I have to do.”
She turns in my arms under the blanket until we’re facing each other, cupping my face in her hands. “And that’s one of the reasons why I love you. You love your country selflessly, and I understand that you have to do this. That doesn’t mean I’m not going to miss you or worry about you or wish that you were here with me, but you need to do what you believe in, Fisher. I’ll always be here, waiting for you when you get home.”
For the first time since I signed on that dotted line to join the Marine Corps, I’m actually having second thoughts. Not because I’m afraid to go to war, because I’m afraid of losing Lucy. I’m afraid that once I leave, everything will change. I just need to have a little faith that we are strong enough to make it through whatever comes our way.
Chapter 24
Fisher
Present Day
Jesus Christ, I’m going to puke. I’m going to throw up right here on the sidewalk.
I agreed to meet Bobby at Barney’s to shoot some darts mostly because I was sick of listening to him bitch about how I need to get the fuck out of Trip’s house before I turn into an old man like him. For the last couple of days, I’ve done nothing but pace back and forth at Trip’s, wondering if Lucy read the journal pages I gave her. Did they make her sad? Did they make her happy? Did they remind her of a time in our lives when we had nothing to worry about but spending as much time together as possible?
Obviously, she either didn’t read them or they didn’t mean jack shit to her. Across the street, right in front of everyone, she’s got her tongue down Stick-Up-His-Ass-Ford’s throat. Fine, not down his throat because I’m sure such blatant displays of public affection would be beneath him, but still. Her hands are resting on his shoulders, his hands are holding respectably to the sides of her waist and their lips are fused together.
People are walking right by them not paying any attention. Don’t they see how wrong that is? Doesn’t it make them want to throw their fist against the wall and scream at both of them to cut that shit out?
Probably not. I guess it’s just me who feels like killing someone right now.
In theory, I know it’s just a kiss, but in my mind, it’s like they’re practically fucking right against the wall of Fisher’s Bank and Trust. A kiss is intimate, it’s trusting and you don’t give it to just anyone, but she’s fucking giving it to Staph-Infection-Ford like it’s no big deal, like she wasn’t clawing at my back and sliding her tongue through MY mouth and breathing heavily against MY lips a week ago.
I clench my hands into fists and count to ten when they finally break apart, Lucy giving him a small wave as he walks down the street in the opposite direction. I should walk away myself and pretend like I didn’t witness this shit, but I can’t. My old friends anger and rage are bubbling right beneath the surface, urging me to come out and play. I kicked them to the curb months ago when I learned techniques to express my emotions in a healthy, constructive way, but their call is so loud it’s ringing in my ears.
I charge across the street, my focus on Lucy as she turns and heads down the side alley next to the bank. People call my name and wave to me, but I ignore them. Turning down the alley, I see her halfway down, covered in shadows as she heads toward the beach. I watch the muscles in her smooth legs tightening as she walks and the skirt around her ass swish from side to side as her hips sway with each step.
I move faster, slowing when I’m right behind her and I can smell her skin and feel her heat. My arms wrap around her body and I quickly turn, pushing her face-first against the wall.
She starts to scream and struggle against me and I quickly wrap my hand around her mouth and press my lips to her ear.
“Shhhh, it’s just me.”
She immediately relaxes in my arms, her body melting against mine and it makes me angrier. She just had her hands and her lips on another man, but the sound of my voice still turns her to jelly. It should make me happy, should make me feel good about returning to this island to get her b
ack, but it just fills me with jealousy.
“I saw you fucking kissing him,” I whisper angrily in her ear, one arm wrapped tightly around her waist while my other hand trails down her stomach to her thigh.
Lucy whimpers as my palm reaches the bare skin of her leg and I slowly slide it up and under her skirt.
She whispers my name softly, but I cut her off. I don’t know if she’s trying to get me to stop or urging me on and I don’t give a shit about finding out right now.
“Those lips are MINE.”
My hand keeps sliding up under her skirt, stopping when I reach the waistband of her underwear. My conscience is screaming at me to back away, but as soon as my hand slips under the cotton material and my fingers feel how wet her pussy is, I know there’s no stopping this.
“This body is MINE and it fucking kills me that you’re giving it to him,” I whisper raggedly as I swirl my middle finger against her clit.
Her hands come up, her palms smacking against the building on either side of her head as I tease her with my finger.
“I can’t stand seeing you with him. I can’t fucking STAND to see you giving him what you used to give me.”
I quickly plunge two fingers inside of her and she moans my name loudly, her back arching and forcing her ass right against my dick. I can hear the muffled voices of people laughing and talking at the opening of the alley as they walk by on the street, completely unaware of what’s happening a few feet away from them. The alley is so dark that they wouldn’t be able to see us even if they were looking, but hearing those voices should knock some fucking sense into me. Anyone could turn down this alley, using this shortcut to get down to the beach like Lucy was doing before I ambushed her. The thought of someone seeing us this way only makes me move faster and push harder, my body shaking against hers with the need to make her come.
