by Cruise, Anna
I stared blankly at him. “Seriously?”
“I told you Thursday, didn't I?” He brushed at his blond hair, lifting it off his forehead. “I'll have it done by then.”
I nodded, an odd mixture of relief and disappointment flooding me. I wanted my car because I could leave. I could floor the gas pedal and get the hell out of Pelican Lake and never look back. The sheriff had nothing on me and, as much as I wanted to figure out what had actually happened to me sister, the threat of Jorgenson pinning everything on me was too much. I felt like I was under constant surveillance, like he was just waiting for me to fuck up and make a wrong move. There were no wrong moves to make as far as I was concerned, but it didn't keep me from worrying. If he really was out to get me, and if he'd fabricated evidence to try to pin my sister's drowning on me, I wasn't sure what else he might be capable of doing. I felt like my best—my only option, really—was to simply leave.
But then I thought of Ty.
Yesterday had been rocky but I kept going back to the moments we spent in the truck. Not when I was hurling accusations at him but after, when we were in the driveway in front of the house, when he'd told me in no uncertain terms that he'd had nothing to do with either girls' disappearance. And later, when he'd looked at me, his eyes full of warmth and tenderness, and when he'd held me in his arms, crushing me to him like I was the most precious thing on earth. I didn't want to lose that. I didn't want to lose him.
“So...” Sven said and I looked up, trying to shake my mind free of the memory. “We good?”
“Uh, sure,” I said.
Jenna smiled. “So maybe I should stick around here, then?” She wasn't talking to me.
Sven licked his lips. “I gotta work, sweetheart.”
“I know,” she said. She kissed him again. “But you'll have a couple breaks, won't you?”
I watched them. There was no tenderness in their conversation or their gestures. It was just pure, unadulterated sex.
“For you?” He nuzzled her ear. “Absolutely.”
I cleared my throat. “Uh, I think I'm gonna go. You sure you want to stay? Don't you want to go back and sleep? And maybe sober up?”
My sister shook her head. “The clock is ticking. If you're out of here tomorrow, I am, too. And I'm not done with him.”
There was absolutely nothing to say to that. I just nodded and mumbled a goodbye and headed back outside.
I climbed back into Kyle's car and jammed the key into the ignition, adjusting the vents so the AC was blasting me. I stared out the windshield, at the entrance to the auto shop. Even with the glare from the sun, I could still make out my sister hoisted on top of the sales counter, Sven in front of her. She'd wrapped her legs around his waist and his hands were in her hair and all I could think was that I hoped they moved into the back of the shop before another customer walked in. Or before the sheriff drove by and decided he'd charge them both with indecent exposure.
I looked away and shifted the car into reverse. I navigated the car out of the parking space and pulled up to the edge of the road, waiting to merge. An opening appeared but I made no move to ease into traffic.
I sat there for a good ten minutes, watching the cars go by, unsure of what to do.
Because I had nowhere to go.
THIRTY NINE
“Hey, stranger.”
I glanced up from the book I was reading. Ty was in the doorway to my room. Shirtless, a baseball cap backwards on his head, a fine sheet of sweat covering his chest. I swallowed hard and tried not to stare.
“Hey.”
“What are you doing?”
I lifted up the paperback book I was holding. “Reading.”
“Uh. Why?”
I smiled. “You have an aversion to it or something?”
He answered with a smile of his own. “Nah. But that kind of book?” He jerked his head in my direction. “Wouldn't touch that if it was the last book on earth.”
I turned it in my hands so I was looking at the cover. “What's wrong with Little Women?”
He wrinkled his nose. “That's school reading. Required crap. Not the good stuff.”
“Hmm.” I closed the book and set it in my lap. “I like it.”
He nodded. “Figures you would.”
“What's that supposed to mean?”
Ty shrugged. “I dunno. You're the schooly type. I mean, you're headed to college and stuff. You're book smart.”
I laughed. “Hardly.” I didn't want to tell him the real reason I was reading it. That I'd come back from A Plus Auto, anxious to find something to do, something that would keep me out of trouble and out of sight for the next day and a half until my car was ready. I didn't want to drive aimlessly around town and I didn't want to sit by the pool. And I sure as hell didn't want to dig up anything more about Annie or Rosie. With limited options, and an even more limited library available at his house, I'd found a familiar book on one of the bookshelves in the living room and had made a beeline to my room.
“Everything okay?” he asked.
It was my turn to shrug. “Sure. I guess.” I hadn't told him about the sheriff's visit the previous morning or my conversation with his dad. There'd been no reason to bring it up. Ty wanted me to keep digging and the other two men wanted me to behave and answer questions. And I wasn't willing to do anything any of them wanted.
He spun the basketball on his finger. “Dad said he talked to you yesterday. Said the sheriff came by, too.”
I sighed. Apparently it hadn't mattered that I'd decided to keep my mouth shut.
“My dad...” His voice trailed off. “I hope he wasn't too much of an asshole.”
I shook my head. “No. He wasn't.”
Ty nodded. “Okay. Good.” He stepped into the room, the hesitated. “Is it okay if I come in?”
I sat up a little, made room for him on the bed. “Yeah, of course.”
He dropped the basketball to the ground and it rolled across the hardwood floor, bumping into the nightstand. He sank down on the bed, close to me but not touching.
“What did the sheriff want?”
I set the book on the bedspread. “He just wanted to ask more questions. I said no.”
Ty nodded his approval. “Good. You've already told him everything.”
We sat in silence for a minute. I hated that I felt so conflicted with him. About him. After everything that had happened, I was pretty sure he was on my side. But we hadn't talked after our conversation in the truck, hadn't really spent any time alone together. I felt all kinds of jacked up around him—it was like I was a dozen different people when I was with him, depending on my mood and situation. I thought back over the course of the last couple of days—the amazing night we'd spent together in bed, the file he'd insisted we look at, the fight we'd had about it afterward. And then the making up. There had been nothing sexual in the way he'd held me, the way he'd comforted me. I remembered the look in his eyes, the sound of his voice as he spoke to me. We might have only known each other for a few days, the same as Jenna and Sven. But there was definitely something between us. Something more than just sex. And something more than the incidents that had fatefully intertwined our lives.
“Where did you go this morning?” he asked casually.
“To Sven's. To check on my car.”
A frowned creased his brow. “Is it ready?”
I shook my head and his expression cleared and my heart somersaulted a little. He'd looked relieved. “He thinks he'll have it done by tomorrow. Five o'clock, he said.”
The frown returned. “That soon?”
“That was his original estimate,” I reminded him.
He nodded. “I know.” He looked at me for a minute, his hazel eyes flecked more green than gold today. “But I might have been hoping it would take him a little longer.”
My heart fluttered some more. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” He reached his hand out, hesitating for a second before placing it on top of mine. His fingers were warm, comforting, a
nd I wanted him to squeeze me and hold me and never let me go. “You're ready to go, aren't you?”
I didn't respond. Not because I was avoiding it but because there wasn't an easy answer.
“I get it,” he said gently. His fingers caressed my hand. “This is a shitty place for you to be. And I'm pretty sure I've just made it worse.”
I looked at him, my eyes wide. “What? No!”
He shook his head. “Not the sex part.” He grinned. “I think I know how we both felt about that.” He stroked my hand some more and continued. “But being back here has been hard. And then I started making noises about accidents not being accidents. Pushing you with the file shit. And I'm sorry.”
“Don't apologize.”
“I have to.” He threaded his fingers through mine. “It wasn't my place. I shouldn't have pushed. I should have just let things be.”
I knew what he was trying to do and I appreciated it. Hell, part of me felt the same way. Part of me wished he would have just kept his mouth shut and not brought up his suspicions. Not because they weren't valid or worth looking into, but because doing so was only going to get me in more trouble. At least that's the way it looked with Jorgenson sniffing around me like a dog in heat.
“So, anyway, I just wanted to apologize,” he said. “And to make sure you know that I'm not looking forward to you leaving.”
“No?”
He shook his head hard. “Nope.”
“I don't know that I am, either,” I said, my voice low.
A smile tugged at his lips. “No?”
It was my turn to shake my head.
“I'm glad I was that good,” he said, smiling smugly.
I swatted at him with my free hand. “Says who?”
“Well, I didn't think you'd be sad about leaving my mom's cooking.”
“She's not that bad,” I told him.
“And you are a horrible liar.”
We both laughed and the sadness was more poignant than ever. I wished that Ty existed outside of Pelican Lake, that I could somehow pull him out of that location and bring him with me, keep him separate from all the things that haunted me from my past and from the very real present.
“You know,” he said, his fingers loosening from mine a little. I thought he was pulling his hand away but he didn't, just ran them lightly along the sensitive flesh on my palm. “Madison isn't that far away...”
It was as if he'd read my mind. “I know.”
“I mean, if you want me to visit...” He smiled. “If you want me to, I will. I'll find a way.”
I didn't know what to say so I didn't answer him with words. Instead, I shifted closer to him on the bed and reached my free arm up so that I could wrap it around his neck. I drew him down toward me and brushed my lips against his, a soft, sweet kiss. His lips were warm and he answered me hungrily, shifting so that he was hovering over me, his weight coming down on me and pressing me into the bed.
“I think that's a yes,” he murmured.
I answered him again. And again, I didn't use a single word.
FORTY
The sound of knocking woke me up. It was faint, far away, and I wasn't sure if I was still dreaming. I opened my eyes and shifted underneath Ty.
It was real.
Someone was knocking on the front door.
“Ty,” I whispered.
He didn't move. I glanced down at him. His eyes were closed, his lashes so long they brushed the skin underneath his eyes. His mouth was slightly open, a perfect O, his breathing steady, even.
I nudged him. “Ty.” I whispered his name again.
His eyelids fluttered and his eyes opened. Absently, he stared at me for a second, trying to bring his gaze into focus. A slow smile spread across his face and I felt the butterflies kickstart in my stomach. It was crazy how just a look from him could do that to me.
“Did I fall asleep?” he asked, still a little disoriented.
“We both did.” I squirmed so that I was only half-underneath him. “But someone's at the door.”
“Hmm.” He closed his eyes.
“Ty,” I hissed. “They've been knocking for a couple of minutes.”
“It's probably the sheriff,” he said and my body stiffened. “Relax. I was kidding. I don't care who it is. They'll go away.”
I pushed at him. “What if it's something important?”
He sighed and struggled to prop himself up on his elbow. “What could possibly be more important than laying in bed with you?”
“Answering the door.”
He sighed heavily but didn't fall back on to the bed. “Promise you'll wait right here?”
I nodded.
He swung his legs over the end of the bed and reached for his discarded basketball shorts. He stood up and slipped them on and I found myself staring at the complete and utter perfection of his body. I hoped it was the UPS guy or something. And I hoped he was back in bed, pressed up against me, before I even realized he was gone.
He planted a kiss on the tip of my nose. “Be right back. Stay put.” He disappeared out into the hallway and I heard his footsteps as he made his way down the stairs.
I rolled on to my stomach, my face pressed into the pillow and sighed. The pillowcase smelled like him. Spicy and sweet, the hint of his aftershave lingering on the fabric. I breathed in deeply, savoring the smell, remembering all of the ways he'd touched me and kissed me. For thirty blissful minutes, I'd forgotten about my car and my sisters and the sheriff and everything else that was weighing down on me. For those thirty minutes, all I'd focused on was him. Ty Reilly. How he smelled, how he tasted, how he felt. And how he made me feel.
Alive.
Carefree.
Wanted.
His footsteps sounded again on the stairs and I shifted on to my back, a smile on my face. He was moving quickly, like he was taking them two at a time and I felt the grin on my face stretch even wider. He was in a hurry to get back to me.
He poked his head in. “Uh, change of plans.”
I felt my heart drop. “What?”
“It isn't the UPS man?”
He shook his head. “Nope. You need to get dressed. Like, immediately.”
I scampered into a sitting position and fumbled for my clothes. He'd strewn them across both the bed and the floor. “Shit. Who is it? It's the sheriff, isn't it?”
Ty shook his head again, an unreadable expression on his face. “No. It's not Jorgenson.”
I pulled my panties on and struggled into my shorts. “Well, who the hell is it, then?”
“It's your dad.”
FORTY ONE
My dad was waiting for me in the living room, in the exact same spot Jorgenson had been the day before. Unlike the sheriff, he'd sat down on the cushions of the loveseat. But his hat—an old Titleist visor—rested on his knee, just like the sheriff had done with his own, and his foot tapped the ground nervously, his knee bouncing the hat in a steady rhythm.
“Lily.” His stoic expression broke as he saw me descend the stairs.
“Dad.” My voice was flat, which was a good thing. Because inside, mt heart was beating out of control and my nerves felt like they were on fire.
He stood up, putting his visor on the armrest. I walked toward him automatically, accepting the hug he offered. I didn't reach my arms around him, though, just stayed stiff in his embrace.
“How are you?” he asked, putting his hands on my shoulder and pulling my away from his frame so that he could look into my eyes.
“What are you doing here?”
He frowned. “You needed me. I came.” He said it as if there was nothing more to discuss.
“What?” I shook my head, confused. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“Your sister,” he said, clearly as confused as I was. “She called yesterday. Said you'd had car trouble. That you'd broken down here.” He swallowed and I could tell he was trying to keep his emotions in check. “She said something about a girl. An accident. Down by the water.”
> I felt the anger rise up inside of me and I was grateful that my sister wasn't around to bear the brunt of my reaction. Because I was ready to kick the shit out of her. She'd made noises about calling him but I'd shot her down, told her no in no uncertain terms.
And, in typical Jenna style, she hadn't listened to a word I'd said.
“I'm fine,” I told him cooly. “Everything is under control.”
My dad studied me, his hands still on my shoulders. “That's not how your sister described things.”
I took a step back and his hands fell to his sides. “Since when do you listen to Jenna?”
It was true. He'd given up on her a long time ago. Not given up as in disowned her, but she'd always been the one to mouth off, the one to rebel. He'd spent years trying to discipline her, trying to change her, but she always met him with more resistance. Eventually, he'd thrown up his hands and given up. They still talked and he still loved her, but he knew she wasn't going to change. And she knew she was on her own. He wouldn't intervene in her life.
He sank back down on to the loveseat. “Since she calls me in tears over the mess her big sister is in.”
I made a face. “I'm fine,” I repeated.
He picked up the visor and glanced around the living room. Ty was still upstairs and the house was quiet. Still.
“Never thought I'd see the inside of this house again,” he said softly, toying with the hat in his hands. He fingered the bill of it, running his thumbnail along the stitching.
I felt the flickerings of guilt begin to build. I didn't want my dad there. I didn't want to make him relive the memories from ten years earlier. Sitting there, his brow furrowed, his mouth a thin straight line, I could see the tension in him, could sense just how uncomfortable he was sitting in the Reilly's living room. It had nothing to do with me and whatever information Jenna had decided to relay to him.
It had everything to do with Rosie.
“I'm fine,” I said for the third time, my voice firm. “Really. I'm sorry that Jenna called you and I'm sorry you drove all the way out here. But I'm fine.” There was a creak on the stairs and I looked toward them. Ty was slowly making his way down. “My car is in the shop. It'll be ready tomorrow. And I'll be leaving.”
