Down By The Water

by Cruise, Anna

  “They're better,” I told him. It wasn't entirely true but the pain was beginning to subside a little.

  He sat next to me, his hand still resting on my leg, his gaze trained on the lake in front of us. The sky mirrored the water, dark blue and mottled with clouds. The storm he'd mentioned earlier would be moving in. Soon.

  “I'm sorry,” he said. His voice was soft and I instinctively leaned closer so I could hear him.

  “Sorry for what?”

  He tilted his head and looked at me. “For everything.”

  “None of this is your fault,” I told him. It wasn't. I was a victim of circumstance. If anything, he'd helped me. Rescued me, just like he'd teased when we'd first met.

  “I know,” he said. With his free hand, he scooped up a handful of sand. It was light brown, threaded with tiny gray and red pebbles and he sifted it through his fingers. “But I still feel bad.”

  “Well, so do I.” I watched as he plunged his hand into the sand again. “I should have been upfront that first day. Told you who I was. That I'd been here before. All of that.”

  He shook his head. “Nah. It wasn't any of my business.”

  “Maybe not,” I said. “But I know I was acting weird. You noticed. You asked me. And I had the chance to tell you. Multiple chances. But I didn't. So I'm sorry.”

  “You barely knew me,” he said. “Hell, you still don't, really. You didn't owe me anything, Lily. So I'm sorry for freaking out on you back at the house.” He looked at me, his eyes burning with intensity. “And I'm sorry the place I live holds such bad memories for you. And I'm sorry Jorgenson is being an asshole. I'm sorry. For all of it.”

  “It's not your fault,” I repeated.

  He wiped his hand on his shorts, rubbing the sand off. “It's just...I just feel shitty that all this is happening. All this is going down.” He swallowed. “I think about the resort. It's going to be mine some day. And I think about how happy I was to come back after being in the Cities. Really made me figure out my priorities and what I wanted. And I want to be here. Not just in Pelican Lake, but at the resort. I want to do what my dad does. I like meeting people. I like knowing that the place I live, the lots we rent out, make people happy.

  “And then you come along.” His gaze dropped to the blanket. “And I find out I'm your worst nightmare.”

  “That's not true.”

  He lifted his eyes so he was looking back at me. “Sure it is. You didn't want anything to do with me.” A small smile touched his lips. “Gotta say, I'm not used to that.”

  I smiled in spite of myself. “No?”

  He shook his head. “No,” he said firmly.

  “I think I changed my mind about that today.”

  The smile on his face ratcheted up a notch. “I dunno. Think that's stress-related or something.”

  I gaped at him. “What?”

  “You heard me.” He squeezed my calf lightly. “You were all stressed out—rightfully so—and I think you just needed an outlet. A release.”

  I shook my head in disbelief. Maybe part of it had been that but there was no denying I was attracted to him. Insanely so. “You're wrong.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Am I?”

  I nodded my head vigorously.

  “Prove it,” he said softly.

  “What? How?”

  “You really want me to tell you how?”

  I bit back the smile that threatened. No, I didn't want him to tell me how. Because I already knew what he wanted me to do. It was the same thing I'd wanted to do in the auto shop thirty minutes earlier.

  Kiss him.

  I didn't move in right away. I watched him for a minute, locking my eyes with his before letting my gaze drift to his mouth. I licked my top lip and his hand gripped my calf tighter, his nails digging lightly into my skin. I tilted my head up and he lowered his head toward me in anticipation. But I made him wait. Our mouths were mere inches apart and I could feel his breath on my lips, the subtle scent of peppermint toothpaste.

  “You're killing me,” he whispered. His hand had become a vise on my leg.

  “I know.”

  “If you don't—” he warned.

  But I didn't give him a chance to finish. Lightly, I touched my lips to his, brushing them across his open mouth. Back and forth, as soft as a feather, teasing him. He shifted on the blanket and his hand moved from my calf to my thigh, his fingers caressing my bare skin. A shiver of anticipation rippled through me. I kissed him harder, thrusting my tongue into his mouth, tasting him, savoring him. He moaned something, maybe my name, and his hand moved along my hip, tracing the waistband of my shorts before inching up my rib cage.

  Yes, I thought, as he shifted his mouth to my neck. He licked the soft skin along my jaw, nipped at it with his teeth as his hand trailed up my stomach, his fingers dancing on my shirt. His mouth returned to mine just as his hand closed over my breast and it was my turn to moan, to turn into him and press up against him. He nudged me down so I was laying on the blanket, the sand a lumpy bed, his body shielding me from the sudden gust of wind that ruffled my hair and tugged at my clothes, signaling the incoming storm.

  Even as the first raindrops fell, I kissed him, let him touch me and stroke me, first through the fabric of my shirt, then again as his hand dipped into the opening of my tank top, his fingers finding their way inside my bra. I fastened my mouth to his, my hands roaming his broad back, finding their own way under his shirt as he caressed my breast, his thumb rolling gently over my nipple, igniting a fire inside of me that had lain dormant for far too long.

  “I want you,” he said, his breath ragged. His hips pressed into mine and he was rock-hard.

  I moved my hand down his back, positioning myself so I could access the front of him. I cupped him through his shorts and he squeezed my breast tight.

  “Jesus,” he whispered. “Yes.”

  He lifted his hand and I made a sound of protest but then his fingers stroked the outside of my shorts and I squirmed against him. “Yes. Yes.”

  With deft hands, he unfastened the button and pulled the zipper down and maneuvered his hand so that it was inside my panties, his fingers gently touching me, teasing me. I could feel the dampness between my legs and I knew what I wanted, what I needed.

  He did, too. He plunged his fingers inside of me just as his mouth seized mine for another kiss. I tried to reciprocate, fumbling with the button on his shorts that were the barrier keeping me from touching him as intimately as he was touching me, but I couldn't concentrate. Not when he was doing the things he was doing.

  I couldn't remember the last time I'd been with someone. Months? I wasn't a one-night stand kind of person and the last relationship I'd had ended shortly after Valentine's Day. And even though I knew nothing could come of this afternoon with Ty, that it would end up being the first hook-up sex I'd ever had, I wanted it. Needed it.

  “Take them off,” I told him, lifting my hips.

  He didn't need an invitation. He grabbed both my shorts and my panties and slid them from my hips, gliding them down my legs. We were on a beach—a public beach—and I was almost completely naked and I didn't care. His hand trailed up my inner thigh and he massaged my skin, his fingers inching closer, back to where they'd just been. His lips drifted from my mouth to my chin, raining soft kisses as he traveled further down. My jaw. My neck. My collarbone. With his free hand, he lifted my shirt and freed my breasts and fastened his mouth to one of them. I inhaled sharply, digging my nails into his back as his lips and hands assaulted every inch of me.

  I didn't want him to stop. I wanted everything, then and there. But something cold and wet hit my forehead. Not just a raindrop or two. A downpour.

  “Shit,” he muttered, lifting his head from my breast.

  “Don't stop,” I pleaded. The rain was coming down in sheets but I pulled him back to me, drops of water coating his cheeks, his hair turing from damp to soaked.

  A clap of thunder sounded.

  “We have to,” he said, si
ghing. He sat up a little, hovering over me, trying to shield me from the rain pounding down. “Storm is moving in.”

  “I don't care,” I said, stroking him through his shorts.

  He closed his eyes and I could tell he was struggling. The rain pelted us, plastering my hair to my scalp, but I didn't care. I'd never had sex in the rain. I'd never had sex with him. And I wanted both. Badly.

  “Not here,” he said, stilling my hand with his own. “Not now.”

  I frowned.

  He grabbed my wet shorts and panties and, before I could stop him, he was gliding them over my feet and back up my legs.

  “Soon,” he whispered, his eyes dark. He held out his hand and pulled me to a standing position, grabbing the blanket with the other. He reached down and grabbed the cooler we never opened and nudged me in the direction of the truck as the skies opened up even more, the torrential downpour creating tiny lakes of rain water in the sand.

  “Soon,” he repeated as he opened the passenger door and helped me inside. “You're not getting off that easy. I promise.”

  TWENTY THREE

  But I did get off that easily. We didn't get a chance to continue where we'd left off on the beach because Colin Reilly was waiting for us in the living room when we got back to the house.

  And his reaction to me was decidedly cool.

  “Why didn't you tell us?” he asked sharply. He sat on the couch in the same spot I'd occupied only a couple of hours earlier. His right leg was crossed over his left and it bounced up and down as he stared at me. His eyes, a mirror image of his son's in color, were cold and angry.

  “Dad,” Ty began but Colin held up his hand to silence his son.

  “I want to talk to her,” he said.

  I stood next to Ty, both of us dripping rivers of water on to the wood floor.

  “Fine,” Ty said, his voice tight. “But she needs to change. We both do.”

  His dad gave a slight nod. “Fine. I want you back down here in five minutes.” He wasn't speaking to Ty. He was talking to me.

  I trudged up the stairs, deflated and dejected. With everything that had happened that morning, his dad's reaction was something I hadn't anticipated. It had been foolish not to, especially considering how his own son had reacted to the news of my identity. Ty had been pissed and he hadn't even really been involved with the events from ten years earlier. But his dad? His dad had been front and center in all of it.

  I didn't say anything to Ty as we reached the top of the landing. He opened his mouth to speak but I just shook my head and disappeared into my room before he could say anything. I closed the door, peeled off the wet clothes—the second time in three days—and rummaged in my duffle bag for something dry.

  Exactly five minutes later, my clothes were changed and I'd managed to run a comb through my soaked hair. The back of the shirt I'd just put on was already wet and it clung to me as I sank down on the matching loveseat adjacent to the couch.

  Sheila was sitting with her husband, a worried expression marring her features. She fingered the apron that was tied around her waist, a hunter green fabric emblazoned with ducks and loons, picking at the knot in one of the ties.

  Colin eyed me coldly. “Were you ever going to tell us?”

  I pressed my lips together as I thought about what I should say, what approach I should take.

  I decided to be honest. “No,” I finally said.

  He shook his head and sighed.

  “I didn't want to,” I said quickly. Ty had taken a seat next to me and I could feel his eyes on me but I didn't look at him. “Everything I've told you—my car breaking down, being on my way to college—all of it is true. I've never lied to you.”

  “It doesn't matter.” Colin's tone was harsh. “False words might not have come out of your mouth but you lied by omission. That first night at dinner.” He slapped his hand against his thigh. “I knew you looked familiar. I asked if we'd met before. And you said no.”

  Ty spoke up. “You never asked her.”

  Colin turned to look at his son. “The hell I didn't.”

  “You didn't,” Ty said. “You told her she looked familiar. I remember. Because I thought the same thing. But it wasn't a question. There was nothing for her to respond to.”

  His father glared at him. “Semantics.”

  “Please don't fight because of me,” I said. I felt the anxiety well up inside of me. They were a close family, at least from what I'd seen at the dinner table, and the last thing I wanted to do was become a rift between them. “You're right. I should've come clean. I'm sorry.”

  “Not as sorry as I am,” his father muttered.

  “Colin,” Sheila chided, shooting me a sympathetic look. I breathed a small sigh of relief. At least she seemed to be on my side.

  “She didn't want to come here, Dad,” Ty said. He drummed his finger on the armrest of the love seat. “When she was broken down. She wasn't going to come. I had to talk her into it. And she had a full-blown panic attack when I pulled into Lake Land. Jumped out of the car.” He turned to look at his mom. “Remember how wet we were when we walked through the door?”

  She nodded.

  “It wasn't from when she was broken down. She jumped out right here. Right in the driveway.” He glanced at me and his eyes were soft. “Because she didn't want to be here. Because there were too many memories. Because she was scared.”

  Colin listened, assessing his son's words. I wasn't sure if he believed him or not. “Well, be that as it may, it doesn't help explain away what happened today.”

  “What happened today was an accident,” Ty told him. “Just like ten years ago.”

  “Some people don't think what happened ten years ago was an accident,” his father responded.

  Sheila's eyes widened and she laid her hand on her husband's thigh. “Colin. Don't.”

  His words stung but it was more than that. He'd just told me something I'd always suspected. That Sheriff Jorgenson had shared his suspicions about me with more than just my family.

  “She didn't do shit,” Ty said, his voice rising.

  Colin shook his head, a grim smile on his face. “You don't know that.”

  Ty stood up and I could sense his anger. “She was at the goddamn breakfast table with us when Annie disappeared!”

  Sheila's hand moved from her husband's thigh to his arm and she gripped him. “Lily is our guest,” she began but he silenced her with a look.

  “I'm aware of that.” He frowned and the creases in his forehead and the wrinkles visible at the corner of his eyes aged him at least ten years. “But, as our guest, she owed us the courtesy of telling us who she was. Her connection to this place. To us, even.”

  I stood up, too, my fists clenched at my side. “I'll go.”

  “The hell you will,” Ty snarled. He reached out to grab my arm but I sidestepped him.

  “No, really. I didn't mean to cause any trouble.” I could feel the tears threaten. “I'm...I'm sorry.”

  “I'm not asking you to leave,” his dad said, tugging at the collar of his plaid shirt. “I just want the truth from you. No secrets. I don't need this kind of thing happening again at my campground. The stigma of having your sister die here killed us financially for almost two years.”

  It had killed me for ten years, I wanted to scream. Her death had redirected my entire life, the lives of everyone in my family, and I didn't give a flying fuck that his resort had suffered because of it.

  Ty was looking at his father with unabashed disgust. “Jesus. Dad.”

  He looked at his son, confused. “What?”

  “You lost a few thousand dollars.” He paused and the next words he spoke, he did so slowly, emphasizing every word. “She lost her sister.”

  Colin's face paled a little bit and he glanced down at the lower buttons of his shirt and began to fiddle with them. I could tell that having Ty call him out—rightfully so—had embarrassed him. Because he was right. Money couldn't compare to the loss of a loved one. I'd gladly gi
ve up everything I owned to have my sister back with me.

  “Looks like it's my turn to apologize,” his dad said, expelling a breath. “I'm sorry.”

  “It's alright,” I said. I sank back down to the loveseat. “It's been hard for everyone. And I really am sorry about not telling you. About who I am.”

  He studied me for a moment but the anger and accusation were gone from his eyes. “I'm sorry you lost your sister.”

  “Me, too.”

  “I just...” He bit off his words, rubbed at his chin. “I've never forgotten that day and now I'll remember this one. Not for the right reasons.” He took a deep breath, then shook his head. “This isn't a dangerous place and I don't want people to think that it is. The sheriff got in my head. I apologize for what I said.”

  “It's okay,” I said.

  The silence was awkward for a moment and then he turned and walked out, his wife following him.

  Ty sat on the arm of the loveseat next to me. “I'm sorry.”

  “Don't apologize. I understand why he's angry.”

  “He's not angry. He's just...I don't know.”

  I folded my arms across my chest. “He's worried about his business. About the resort. He should be. I understand. And then I'm here and if you don't believe in coincidences...”

  “Stop,” he said. “Just because Jorgenson thinks something is true doesn't meant it is.”

  That was accurate, but it didn't mean that people weren't going to believe him. They would. If I hadn't been involved, I probably would've bought his theory. I was an easy target and it wasn't hard to draw a circumstantial line to me.

  “I need to find another place to stay,” I said.

  “No,” Ty said. “Absolutely not.”

  “Yes,” I said. “I shouldn't stay here. It's causing too many problems. I can go find a motel or something.”

  “No,” Ty repeated. “My dad will be fine.”

  “He's not fine right now. And I don't blame him.”

  He slid off the arm of the loveseat into the cushions next to me. “No. You're staying.”

  I glanced at him. “You can't make me stay, Ty. And no matter what your dad says, there's no way he wants me to stick around. Why would he?”