Keeping Claudia (Toby & Claudia Book 2)

by Suzanne McKenna Link

  The current dragged me out, feet first, slamming me against the rock-strewn ocean floor, dispelling my last breath of air. My fingers grazed over the sand and sharp edges of stones and shells as multiple waves fought over me, pulling my body from opposite ends, twisting and turning me one way and then another in every direction so that I no longer knew what was up. My lungs burned desperate for air. Unexpected, my foot found purchase on the bottom, and I kicked off. The action propelled me upward, and with a final aquatic somersault, I was spit out onto the shore like an unacceptable offering. I gasped for air, clawing my way to what I hoped was a safe distance from being caught by another wave. Panting, I craned my neck around, my whole body shaking, as I scanned the beach for Toby.

  But the beach was empty.

  With a terror I’d never known, I raced back to the ocean.

  “Toby!” I screamed, but the wind muffled my frantic cry. Eyes peeled on the rise and swell of the surf. I wrestled in hip deep water. The hostile rip current tore mercilessly at my legs, each upsurge threatening to snatch me into its angry, churning depths once again.

  My stomach lurched in fear. Even if I could get back to the house to make a call for help, it would be too late.

  “No! God, please!” I dug under my shirt and clasped the St. Jude pendant tightly in my hand. “Please don’t let him die. Please give me one more chance to love him. One more chance. I promise I’ll get it right.”

  My voice broke off into hiccupping sobs, my body shaking with the biting cold, as I combed the top of the water with blurry eyes. Then ten feet off to my left, a round shape broke through the crest of an incoming wave. Then shoulders. And an arm, followed by a second one, moving in sync.

  Toby—and he was swimming.

  My eyes burned afresh. I waved my arms in giant arches over my head, screaming his name over and over; hoping the sound of my voice would guide him in the direction of the shore. As he neared the beach, a wave broke over him, and he disappeared once more. Shrieking, I rushed in his direction, but a moment later, his body was expelled onto the beach, much like my own had been. On curled knees with his arms outstretched and head in the sand, he attempted to defy the control of the waves. I scrambled in front of him, fighting the wayward water to tug him further up the beach to safety. I wasn’t strong enough, though, and I fell backwards. Toby flopped down on my shins, coughing and wheezing.

  With one last great effort, I pulled him up into my arms and pushed his wet hair aside to see his face. “I’ve got you. You’re safe now, baby. You’re safe.” I cried and rocked him in my arms. Though the wind was still kicking up a tantrum, the rain had substantially abated. It was his forceful shiver that made me aware we needed to move. I needed to get him dry and warm.

  “Can you walk?” I asked. He nodded, and together, we got to our feet. “Here, lean on me.”

  We maneuvered up the dune steps to the walkway, and frozen, wheezing. and bruised, we hobbled back to the house. I grabbed the towels Toby had left by the door earlier. He stood, his head bent low, while I blotted his hair and wiped his face and arms dry.

  “You need to get out of those wet clothes and into a hot shower.”

  He drew away from me. “You go first. I’ll put more wood on the fire.” He caught my wrist and touched a spot on my brow. “Your head is scraped up. When you get out, we should ice that.”

  “I’m fine.” I batted his hand away and tried to pull off the now translucent T-shirt plastered to his chest.

  “Claude, please.” The plea in his voice made me cave.

  The hot water streamed over my body, and feeling blissfully came back into my extremities. It was tempting to stay until the hot water ran out, but I didn’t linger.

  “I’m out,” I called through the open door, wrapping myself in a towel. It was then that I began to feel patches of aches.

  He came into the steamy bathroom with a plastic bag of ice cubes and handed it to me. “Here, for your head,” he told me and motioned to the bedroom. “I left some clothes on the bed for you.”

  He didn’t wait for me to leave, stripping hastily. I dawdled, painfully aware of how long it’d been since the last time I’d been able to touch him freely, but a red welt across his shoulders and one on his left hip made me cringe. He was battered, both inside and out. I wanted to soothe him and give him comfort, but I knew he wasn’t ready to let me.

  The room glowed dimly in the light of the one candle next to the bed, but I could see the room was rearranged, the walls a new color, possibly a pale, driftwood gray. It was cozy and inviting. On the bed lay a men’s white undershirt and a pair of cotton boxers. I dropped my towel and tugged them on.

  Dressed, I went back to the den and huddled close to the fire, entranced by the flames while its heat made my face hot and dry. It wasn’t until Toby touched my shoulder that I realized he come into the room. I reached back and pressed my hand over his. “I was so scared. I thought you had drowned—” My voice caught in my throat.

  He folded himself onto the blanket behind me and hooked his arms around my waist, drawing me back against him.

  “We’re okay. We’re both okay,” he whispered into my damp hair.

  I closed my eyes and savored the way it felt to be held in his arms again. The wave, having tossed us about, had put a fatal crack in the fragile glass that walled us apart. If I had a hammer, I would smash it to bits, make the liquid pain spill out all over so that it would finally dry up and evaporate.

  “Claude,” he said after a time. “It wasn’t mine.”

  I raised my eyebrows in silent confusion. “If you were with her, how can you be sure?”

  “Because I used a condom, and I never… we never finished. She started sobbing and pulling her hair.” His fingers tugged at his own hair, mimicking Lacie’s actions. “She screamed that she hated herself, her life, and what she’d let Pace do to her. I stopped, and I just held her.”

  I stared, an awful feeling creeping up my throat. “What did he do to her?”

  “I don’t know. She refused to say. He might’ve forced himself on her, or maybe she was upset that she went with him in the first place. I’ll never know for sure.” His eyes lowered to mine. “But I am sure when she came to see me that day, she knew she was pregnant. She might’ve told Pace, but knowing him, he wouldn’t have taken responsibility for it. He was the last one to see Lacie alive. Not me. I can only imagine what he told her—what he said that made her decide to end it all.” His sigh was defeated. “Jackie called me after the autopsy was done. She thought I ought to know.”

  “Did you tell her about Robby?”

  “No.”

  “Why?”

  “Because all Jackie knew was Lacie loved me, and if the baby wasn’t mine, then whose was it? A guy who possibly raped her?” His arms grew rigid around me. “Jackie lost her daughter. At the time, I figured keeping that secret meant I could save her from feeling worse. Now I wonder if I was wrong to keep quiet. Maybe the police would’ve done an investigation.”

  “Toby, unless Lacie told someone, it would’ve been your word against his, and it would’ve been extremely difficult to prove that it wasn’t consensual.” I squeezed his hand. “It was a heavy secret to keep, but you did a kind thing for Jackie.”

  “It never felt like enough,” he said.

  “You gave Lacie Hart more than you know. You gave her comfort. You gave her love, and that’s why she came back to you.” I was pretty sure I understood how Lacie had felt. The circumstances Toby faced in his early years had weathered him and made him sturdy and strong in ways Lacie wasn’t. And I wasn’t either. In dark times, she and I had both taken shelter in that strength while he took the brunt of the storm. I pressed the back of his knuckles to my lips and kissed them understanding there was a scar on Toby’s heart with Lacie’s name on it. A piece of him I could never claim or fix. “It’s incredibly difficult to get people to accept help they aren’t ready to take.”

  Silent, he reclined back onto his forearms, letting my
words settle in about him.

  “Claude, I never meant to keep this from you. Ever since I met you, every forward step for us has been hard fought for. I never minded any of it because when I held you in my arms I was better. Life was better. This last year… Christ.” He exhaled and shook his head. “It was the only time I ever felt whole. When you started getting worked up about my old girlfriends, I made a decision not to tell you about Jackie or Lacie because I couldn’t stand the thought of losing you.”

  Moved by his confession, I uncurled and reached for him, stroking his cheek with my fingers. He’d finally let down his defenses and let me fully inside. I hadn’t thought it possible to love him any more than I did, but seeing him so exposed and so vulnerable, my feelings expanded exponentially in knowing I now knew all of him. I knew his ticks, how his sureness faltered despite his perceived confidence, how his temper could suddenly spike when wronged. I knew, too, the curve of his smile, how his brow furrowed when he was thinking hard, and how completely selfless and generous he could be. I loved him in spite of it, despite it, and because of it.

  Loving him had brought me a better understanding myself.

  “You were right. I wouldn’t have taken the news about Lacie and Jackie well. Eventually, I would’ve calmed down, and I would've seen that, just like those other girls, their story is another piece of your past. Your past, Toby. It’s not here, not today, not us.”

  His eyes stayed low.

  “Lacie’s suicide was terrible, but she took her life—not you. You did what you could to make amends for what happened. It’s not your fault. You have to let it go. Focus on the here and now. It’s what’s most important. And you and me, we are here and now.” I brought his hand to my mouth, caressing his palm against my cheek and kissed his fingers tips. “Why don’t we wipe the slate clean and… and make love.”

  He snapped his hand away. “I’m done with using sex like a Band-Aid.”

  Fighting back tears, I rolled onto my side away from him. For several long minutes, I stared at the fire, the swirling wind and pelting rain the only sounds breaking the heavy silence between us. How could I fix us when he was so bruised inside he was unwilling to let me touch him?

  Unexpectedly, he moved behind me. A finger gently traced the length of my spine, eliciting a soft sigh from my lips.

  “Did you know in middle school, whenever we were in the same class, I used to stare at the back of your head?” he whispered. “I watched you play with your hair and tried to imagine what it would feel like to touch you.”

  Squeezing my eyes shut, I summoned the picture he painted in my mind—a boy I’d been only little aware of—pining for me in the back of the classroom. With the tender thought, I shivered and folded deeper into my despair.

  Moving closer, he put his face in my hair.

  “When I saw you again that first time at my house, the day you came to interview with Julia, I dreamed about you all over again.” His hand cradled my hip, and very slowly he caressed upwards to my waist, ribcage, and then the outer swell of my breast. He covered my breast with his palm, holding me gently, his breath uneven in my ear.

  “That I have been able to touch you like this and love you even for a little while…” As tears made a soundless trek down my face, he withdrew his hand, letting it rest lightly on my ribcage. “You deserve better, Claudia. Someone without all my baggage. Someone who’ll get it right like I couldn’t. Someone softer who’ll be gentler with you.”

  I twisted around and scowled at him. “I do not need someone to be gentle with me.”

  “I make you cry.” He brushed my hair away from my face. “I hate that.”

  “I don’t. It's exactly what I need from you.”

  His brow arched. “How do you figure that?”

  “You’re not the only one who’s felt whole for the first time this year. I’ve spent my life looking out from inside a safe hideaway. You made me venture outside.” I swallowed hard and went on. “When I miscarried, I was a mess, but since nobody knew, I slipped on a mask and pretended all was fine. But you, you didn’t let me hide. You never have. You push me to react. Yes, you can be a bit rough sometimes, but I’m stubborn. How else you gonna get my attention?” I inched forward and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “See? I need your fierceness. I want it. It makes me feel. Feeling means I’m living, not just going through the motions, but really living. I can’t stand thinking I’ve lost that—that I’ve lost you. Please tell me you still love me.”

  “I don’t know how not to.” With a huff, he rolled onto his back. “Claude, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for all my fuck ups, for not showing up and keeping secrets, but mostly I’m sorry for not making you aware, beyond a doubt, I wanted you, baby or no baby. It’s important to me to be in a secure place financially before we take any steps forward, not because of your dad, but because I want to be able to take care of you. I want you to finish school and not worry our lives will in anyway resemble what I grew up with.”

  “That’s both of our responsibility as it is to make our love the kind of love that will feed our souls.” I took his hand and pressed it to my heart. “You fed my soul. Let me feed yours. Let me love you through whatever it is that hurts you. You don’t have to tell me anything more about your past, but if you want to talk about it, I’ll listen—with patience, understanding, and mostly with love. I promise, cross my heart and hope to die, whatever you tell me will not change the way I feel about you. Ever.” I drew a large X across my chest, and a small, tentative smile lifted the corners of his mouth. “The experiences of your past made you the man you are today, and I love all of you even the bits and pieces you’d prefer I not know.”

  His fingers slipped into my hair and curved around my head, gently inching my face closer. “Baby, I don’t know how I got so lucky because I totally don’t deserve you.”

  “Shhh,” I hushed him. “That kind of talk stops now. We both know I’m not without my own faults. I doubted us. I pushed you away when I should’ve pulled you closer.”

  “You needed the space away from me.”

  “Yes, I needed space, and you gave it to me. You were never too far. You made me get back on my feet and encouraged me when I needed it most. Toby, you are everything I never knew I needed.” I slung my arm across his waist and molded myself to him, comforted by the even beat of his heart against my cheek. “Sleep now. We have all the time in the world to talk, tomorrow and every day after that.”

  * * * *

  “Toby!” I screamed, thrashing against the weight of the water.

  “I’m here, Claudia.” At the feel of his heavy arm over my stomach, my eyes popped open.

  I wasn’t in the stormy ocean. And Toby wasn’t lost.

  He was on the floor, wrapped in a blanket beside me. The unfed fire was low, and its dwindling light had thrust the room into endless dark shadows.

  “I had a bad dream.” I coughed, reaching for him.

  “I’m right here, baby,” his voice found me, and suddenly I was securely enfolded in his arms, his cool lips pressed to my brow.

  I nuzzled my lips against his sleep-warmed skin, planting small, lingering kisses down the column of his neck. My ears picked up that sexy little rumble he made in the back of his throat, the one that told me the engine was revving. I quickly moved atop him, lifted his shirt and began a trail of sensory kisses along his chest, moving methodically down to his flat stomach. His breath hissed, and his briefs strained with his arousal.

  “Mmm,” I murmured, cupping and squeezing him with one hand while my other fluttered over his waist to pull down his briefs.

  Groaning, he captured my hands, forcing me to stop. “I’m terrified I’m about to wake up and find out this was all a dream.”

  “This isn’t a dream. We’re both very much awake,” I said, sitting up to take off my T-shirt.

  I tossed it aside, and this time, I peeled back the waistband of his briefs without any hesitation. The sight of his thickened excitement made my insides clench. “And
I’m about to make you feel really good.”

  I lowered myself atop him rubbing my breasts along his hard, smooth length, my tongue ready to swaddle him.

  “Fuck,” he growled through tight lips. He let me have my way with him for a few minutes, but I was forced to surrender my post, job unfinished, when he dragged me up until my body blanketed his. He angled my face and took hold of my lips with his. We kissed feverishly, our moans intertwining, growing louder than the storm outside, until I stopped and yanked at the hem of his T-shirt, impatient with anything barring me from the feel of his hard naked body under me. Thinking as one, he went into action, too, and we stripped away the last few barriers between us.

  He moved atop me, aligning his body to mine. His solid weight boxed me in, giving me little room to expand my lungs, but I didn’t care. His weight felt glorious. We let our hands rediscover what had long been denied, touching and stroking, as our eyes continued the conversation; our verbal communication muted to soft murmurs of pleasure.

  He lowered his head, and I shut my eyes, anticipation of his kiss needling in my chest. He kissed me once on the lips and then paid homage to the whole of my face, feathering light kisses over my eyes, chin, and neck. My whole body tingled pleasantly under the languorous attention.

  He pressed into me and rolled onto his back, taking me with him. Straddling his waist, I eased into a sitting position, immediately feeling the press of his hard length between my legs. With a heavy-lidded gaze, a low breath of appreciation whistled through his lips.

  “Christ, you’re beautiful.” He touched me slowly, his palms skating reverently over my skin, and settling on my hips.

  I restrained his hands at my hips with mine and whispered, “Close your eyes. Feel me and know, without a doubt, I love you.”

  His eyes closed obediently, and I rolled my hips, undulating against him.