Demolished

by Cathryn Fox

“Where did you get her?

  “Friend of mine. He’s a breeder. Very reputable. Sold me all this stuff to go with her.” I take in the bag of food bigger than Sean, the toys, bowls, blankets, bed, leash, and at least a dozen other things. Sean rolls his eyes. “She’s a pup, what does she need with all that stuff?”

  “She won’t be a pup for long though.”

  He hands me a slice of pizza and I bite into it. “Mmm,” I moan.

  “You know you really need to find another sound.”

  “You don’t like it when I moan in the bedroom?”

  “Yeah, I fucking do.” He gazes at his cock and I follow the direction. “But outside the bedroom, my dick can’t take it.”

  I laugh and point to his pizza. “Eat.” I wink at him. “Maybe I’ll see what I can do to help little Sean out later.”

  “Little?”

  I laugh and bite into my pizza. “Eat.”

  Sean takes a big bite and I jump up and pour us each a soda. He takes a big swig and finishes off his slice in record time.

  He reaches for another and winces as he pulls his arm back. “Son of a bitch,” he says and rotates his shoulder.

  “Still bothering you?”

  “Yeah.” His eyes darken, go playful. “I believe I do remember you saying something about working out the kink.”

  My mouth drops open and my eyes go wide. “Not in front of the puppy,” I tease back.

  He laughs and jerks his head toward the hall. “We could always take this into the other room.”

  “Actually, let me have a look at your shoulder first.” I stand and move in behind him. I feel along his shoulder and down his back. He groans, but I’m pretty sure it’s from pleasure, not pain. I lightly whack the side of his head. “Cut it out.”

  “What do you expect when you’re touching me like this?” He grabs another slice and bites in to it as I work on him.

  “Do you react like this whenever you’re touched?”

  He goes strangely quiet for a moment, then in a lower voice says, “No.”

  My body fires, because no one has the effect on me the way Sean does either, but as much as I’d love to take him in the bedroom, he needs something else from me. “Any chance you can lay on the floor for me?”

  “Are you trying to have your way with me again?”

  “Sean . . . ,” I grumble

  “Not that I mind but I think the bed would be softer.”

  I give him a warning glare, and he laughs and holds his hands up. “Okay, okay. The floor it is.”

  He walks into the living room, flattens himself on the boards that aren’t damaged and puts his hands above his head. I drop down next to him, lift his arm and move it around to check the rotator cuff. “First of all, you have a damaged rotator cuff.”

  “Tell me something I don’t know.”

  “How did it happen?”

  “Fell off a damn bike. It was raining, and I took a hairpin turn too fast.”

  “Yikes.”

  He gives that easy shrug again. “I’m alive.”

  I feel along his back, and when I find the joint that is locked up, I go up on my knees and apply force. It pops back, and a loud snapping sound follows.

  “Jesus, what are you doing to me?”

  “You’re a mess back here. Have you seen a doctor about this?”

  “No, haven’t had time.”

  “Well you’re back in town now so I’d suggest you get this checked out.”

  “Isn’t that what I’m doing?”

  Instead of answering, I say, “Sean.”

  “Yeah.”

  “This afternoon, you were scowling about something. What was that all about?”

  “Work stuff.”

  “What kind of work stuff?”

  He pauses for a moment like he’s not sure he wants to talk about it, then says, “I need to get a damn building permit, but Officer Walker is stalling things at city hall.”

  I run my hand along his vertebra checking the joints. “Why does he hate you?”

  “He and Dad go way back. Dad stole his girl in high school, and married her afterward. I used to call her mom.”

  His mom had died shortly after we left Blue Bay for good, but I remember hearing Dad talk about it. It broke my heart, and I wanted so desperately to be here for him.

  “I’m sorry about your mom.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Are your folks still alive?” he asks.

  “No. I lost my mom years ago,” I say and glance down that hallway. If he knows I’m Summer, and it’s clear he does, he’d already knows what happened to my mother. But we’re playing a game here, and I’m grateful he’s playing along. “My dad, I lost him six months ago.”

  “I’m sorry.” He turns, and the genuine sadness in his gaze brings water to my eyes. I miss my folks so much. Feeling lost, empty, a little twisted up inside I draw in a slow breath. Sean sits up, and presses his lips to mine. He kisses me with a savagery that tells me how lost he is, how he’s hurting every bit as much as I am. As my gaze moves over his face, greed, hunger, and something dark and needy seems to take hold of him.

  “Sean,” I whisper as something potent, something I’m absolutely certain there is no coming back from pulses between us. Entirely lost in the moment, in him, I let go, forget that I’m not supposed to feel, because I need to feel. I need to feel Sean in my arms, bed, between my legs.

  “Yeah?” His eyes are wild, needy. Fierce. He’s never looked sexier.

  “You said something about the bedroom.”

  Chapter Eleven: Sean

  I’d been tearing up the floor for a solid day now, and thanks to Summer helping me work the kinks out every night, my shoulder is feeling a hell of a lot better. I hear the shower turn off and she’s humming a tune as she pads to the bedroom to get dressed. I have to admit, I like when she’s happy like this, carefree, if only for a few moments in the day. Outside, tied up in a shaded area to keep her safe from construction, Scout barks at the kids playing in the water. Sunshine slants in through the back window, and using my forearm, I wipe beads of sweat from my forehead. It’s only midmorning and the cottage is already like a sauna. The forecast is calling for rain later, and I hope like hell it clears the humidity.

  I set down the circular saw I’d been using and reach for the crowbar. One of the boards, swollen and water damaged is being a real bitch to get up. I slide the bar under it, give it a tug and it comes away in pieces. I toss the scraps aside and dig in with my bare hands to tear the rest away. I finally pull it from the subfloor, which looks pristine. At least the water hasn’t destroyed the rough floorboards beneath the damaged oak. Costs won’t be quite as high if we don’t have to tear into the plywood. By my count, only half the wood floor needs to be removed. I can easily replace the boards, sand them down and stain them to match.

  I kick a few boards with my boots, and I’m about to turn when something shiny catches my eye. I drop to my knees, and scrape at the golden circular object, which is jammed halfway under one of the good boards that I have no intention of removing. Whoever laid this floor did a shit job, with all the swelling and contracting from the changing seasons, it’s no wonder something got lost. I free the shiny piece of jewelry and lay it in my palm to examine it.

  “Whoa,” I say and go back on my heels.

  “Whoa what?” I hold the gold wedding band up for Summer to see and her big brown eyes go alarmingly wide, like she’s seen a ghost. It’s a small ring, wouldn’t even fit on my pinkie. “I think it’s a woman’s wedding ring.”

  Summer goes so quiet I can practically hear her heart pound in her chest. She stares at the band like it’s an apparition, and when I hold it out to her, her fingers ball and press into her stomach.

  I stand and watch her carefully, waiting for some telltale sigh that this belongs to her mother. When she continues to stare, saying nothing I ask, “Do you think this belonged to the Wheelers?”

  Standing unnaturally stiff, she nods, then those haunt
ed brown eyes of hers slide to mine. I take in the pain, the little-girl-lost look on her face, and my lungs collapse.

  “Jenna,” I say, but she turns away, like she’s only mildly interested. The act is lost on me. I see her raw pain. It falls over me like a physical blow. I want to pull her to me, tell her everything will be okay. But how can I tell her that when she won’t open up to me—is pretending her mother’s long lost ring means nothing to her. Anger flares hot inside me, but I tamp it down and curse myself. She’s lost, scared, and hurting. Am I really going to act like an ass because she doesn’t want to tell me what’s going on in her life? For fuck’s sake, that’s not what she needs from me right now and hurting her in any way would destroy me

  “Here,” I say, and hand it to her. She curls her fingers around it, and holds it to her chest, but goddammit I want to be the thing she holds on to, the guy she turns to for comfort.

  A long pause, and then, “Thank you,” she says, her voice as cool and calm as she can make it, but I can see the rattled little girl beneath the surface. Every now and then she lets me glimpse her.

  Her breathing changes, becomes harsher, and it’s easy to tell she’s fighting the tears. “Jenna.”

  “Yeah.” She turns from me, and I get it. She doesn’t want me to call her on it, doesn’t want me to say a fucking word about who she really is.

  “You’d better get to work. It’s getting late.”

  “Okay,” she says, her voice, soft, shaky as she grabs her apron off the back of the chair.

  “Wait.” Fuck man, I might be pissed that she refuses to open up to me but no way can I let her drive in her current state. “I have to run to town. Why don’t you let me drive you?”

  “It’s—”

  “Come on,” I say, not giving her a choice. “I have a bunch of things to do so I’ll be back and forth all day. It’s no problem for me to pick you up either.”

  “Okay,” she says and I’m surprised when she caves so easily. She likes to do everything herself, but even she knows she’s in no state to drive. I’d suggest she take the day off but I’m not going to push my luck. I untie Scout from outback and Summer gives her a hug and kiss before she kennels her safely inside.

  We jump in the truck and she’s quiet, lost in her own thoughts as I drive. I slide my hand across the seat and capture hers. She gives me a weak smile and I feel like shit, wishing I could do something to help her. But fuck, how can I do that when she’s still not being honest with me. This shit is really starting to piss me off.

  I finally pull up to Winchesters. “What time are you off?”

  “I finish at five.”

  “I’m going to do my best to get the floor finished today. Then all that’s left is to fix the wall.” A tight knot forms at the thoughts of finishing the job, walking away from Summer.

  “Thanks Sean. The place is really looking good. The Wheelers would have loved it.”

  “Do you love it?”

  She nods and my ripped-up heart squeezes. “Good,” I say, because making Summer happy is the most important thing in the world to me.

  She opens her door and my phone pings. I pull it from my pocket and the text from Gram makes me smile. I hold the phone out. “Gram.”

  Summer’s smile lights the cab. “I love that she texts.”

  “Come here.” I reach for her, draw her mouth to mine and give her a kiss. “I’ll see you at five.” I watch her weave around the cars in the lot, and it’s only after she’s safely inside the pub, that I put the truck back into gear and head to the old homestead to see what Gram needs.

  Warm air feels good against my face as I drive. I take the turn down the long road leading to the old house, and when I see Gram and Jamie on the front swing, the permanent knot in my stomach squeezes the air from my lungs. I climb from the truck and dust kicks up under my boots as I hurry toward them. I reach the top step and stop before the landing. My gaze goes from Gram, to Jamie back to Gram again.

  “What’s wrong?”

  Gram tries to smile, and while she’s tough, heck we all are because of her, this time she can’t hide her pain. She’s had so much loss, too.

  “Funeral home called,” she said, her voice a little softer than usual. Hands folded in her lap, I notice how tight they are, how hard this really is on her. “We need to go make arrangements.”

  “I thought we weren’t having the service until everyone got home.” Why is it there was some part of me that thought we’d never have to really face this, never have to put our father in the ground? He was always as hard as nails, a gale force wind that no one or nothing could stop. At least that’s how he always seemed to me.

  “Everyone is home,” Jamie said, his eyes snapping up. “The last cousin got in last night.” He gestures toward the door. “They’re all inside, either eating or sleeping off the long trek home.”

  “Okay,” I say, not really up to facing any of them right now. Fuck, I’d been so busy playing with Summer, I’d forgotten about my responsibilities, what I owe this family and the example I’m supposed to be setting. Well fucking done, Sean. I can just imagine what Dad would say about that. I swallow hard. “Gram, are you ready?”

  Jamie stands. “I can take her.”

  “No,” I say much too harshly, my boots echoing around the quiet homestead as I take the last step to the landing, to help Gram. I’m the oldest. It’s what I need to do. Jamie nods and sits back down. I put my arm around Gram, and for the first time in my life I realize how small and fragile she really is. I swallow back the shit storm clawing at me, hollowing out my gut and pressing against my eyes.

  I help Gram into the truck, and she gives me a feeble smile as I drive down the long lane leading to the main road. I don’t need to ask to know where we’re going. There is only one funeral home in town and the last time I was there I was a teenager. After mom’s funeral, Jamie and I tore up the streets looking for a fight. But I’m older now, need to curb that shit and start acting like the adult I am.

  “I met Jenna,” Gram says, breaking the quiet and wanting to talk about something happier, I suppose.

  I give her a quick look then turn my attention back to the road. “She’s just a friend, Gram. You shouldn’t have invited her to Sunday dinner.”

  “I invite everyone who’s come to live in Blue Bay to dinner, you know that.” She lifts her head. “Inviting her to dinner has nothing to do with you.” I shake my head and grin. While she does invite every new resident to dinner, this still has everything to do with me.

  “I know what you’re up to,” I say.

  “Oh?”

  “Yeah, you’re hoping I’ll find a wife and settle down here in Blue Bay. You don’t have to worry. I’m home for good this time.”

  Green eyes gloss with worry and she fidgets with the big purse on her lap. “Sean, I don’t want you to stay here if it’s going to make you miserable. We have one shot at this life, and you need to find happiness. Your father would want you to be happy.”

  I could never make my father happy.

  I eye her. “And you think Jenna is the happiness I’m looking for, the girl who’s going to keep me in Blue Bay?”

  Quick on her feet, she comes back with, “What part of ‘inviting her to dinner has nothing to do with you’ don’t you understand?”

  I laugh out loud as she bobs her head, always getting the one-up on me. “As long as it has nothing to do with me. And I know this is where I belong Gram. I can be happy here.”

  Her look is dubious, but instead of commenting she says, “Jenna looks an awful lot like Summer Wheeler, don’t you think? You always did have a thing for her.”

  Way to be subtle, and how she knew I always had a thing for Summer is beyond me. “She looks nothing like Summer,” I say and jack the tunes. Gram grabs a Kleenex from her purse and wipes at her nose as we take the corner and turn on to Main Street.

  My gaze slides over the streets, the tourists who are bustling about and all the shops open for business. My stomach clen
ches as my mind goes back. I used to know every inch of these streets, used to run them with my brothers. I knew when it was time to go home to dinner from the shadows on the sides of the buildings. I knew every crack in the cement, every car on the street. I can still smell the homemade ice cream and waffle cones at Sugar’s, the apple pie at Benny’s, the antiseptic in the corner drugstore. In the busy summers the briny scent of the ocean filled the air, the laughter of children playing in the water. When the leaves began to fall and the sultry summer turned to autumn, the air crisp and cooler, the tourists would pack up and leave—go back to their real lives for the winter months. The streets grew quiet then, the town once again belonging to the locals.

  This town, with all its familiar shops and people is like a character of Blue Bay in and of itself. I feel a pinch in my chest, right around the vicinity of my heart. I missed this place, felt a little hollowed when I left it in my rearview mirror. Now that I’m back, everything is the same, yet different. Nothing is normal anymore. My dad is gone and Summer is back, living under an alias.

  As my heart beats too fast, I abandon my trip down memory lane and squeeze my truck between two parked cars, then kill the ignition. The funeral home looms in front of us and for a minute I’m not sure I can do this. Dad was the pillar of the community. Him being gone just doesn’t seem real. But when Gram reaches for the door, I press a fist to my eyes and pull myself together.

  “Gram,” I say, and touch her arm. “I can do this if you want to wait here.”

  Her smile is slow, and steady, like her. “You’re a good boy, Sean. Let’s do this together.”

  I jump from the truck and circle it to help Gram out. Clouds knit together overhead as the hot sultry air slides over my skin. Gram rubs her arthritic knuckles. “A storm is coming,” she says.

  I nod in agreement. But in my gut I know the storm building around me has nothing to do with the weather. No, this storm has been years in the making and has everything to do with the guilt swirling inside me, looking for an outlet. With an ominous feeling closing in on me, chasing me through the streets I once ruled, I lead Gram to the front doors, my legs like cement. The god-awful scent of cleanser and flowers falls over me as I usher Gram inside, and when nausea hits I try to breathe past it.