Always Been You

by Beverley Kendall

  Troy’s expression softens as he stares down at me, love blazing in his eyes. His hand still in mine, he quietly subsides back into his chair.

  Incensed by his silent but telling acquiescence, Melissa’s lips peel back from her teeth. She’s a feral cat itching for a fight. “Yeah, be a good boy and listen to your slut, asshole.”

  Close by, someone lets out a startled gasp because, let’s face it, slut is an ugly word. It’s meant to hurt and debase, and it’s only slightly less offensive than the c-word, both of which have never been a part of my vocabulary. But right now I don’t have the luxury of being affronted. I’m more concerned about keeping Troy from jumping out of his seat and confronting her like the coiled tension in his form suggests he badly wants to.

  Seriously, he looks ready to explode, fury turning his gray eyes dark as night. Melissa is lucky she’s a female. If she were a guy, she’d probably be laid out right now. But then if she were a guy, we wouldn’t be in this situation.

  I give Troy’s hand a calming squeeze. Jaw locked tight, he returns the gesture, triggering a flood of well-deep affection for him that warms my insides.

  God, how I adore this man.

  “You cheating, mother—”

  The sudden appearance of a green-aproned young waitress cuts Melissa off before she has a chance to rain what was certain to be a curse-laden rant down upon us.

  “Is there a problem?” The girl’s voice is breathless and there’s unease in her dark eyes. She must have noticed Melissa’s combative stance and the fervid gleam in her friends’ eyes, as if they are spectators of a particularly ferocious match.

  Troy is quick with a response. “No, they were just leaving.”

  There’s no mistaking the unyielding tone in his voice and the cold, hard stare he directs at Melissa for anything but fury held on a tight leash.

  Our waitress gestures at the patio doors behind her as she addresses Melissa. “Miss, your table is ready inside. If you and your friends would like one outside, there is a short waiting list.”

  All eyes rest on Psycho Bitch, waiting for her reply.

  “Like I want to eat here now that this asshole and his bitch have stunk up the place,” Melissa snarls. With that and a sharp jerk of her chin to her friends, she spins on her heel and storms back through the patio doors.

  It takes everything in me to remain seated. In the span of a couple minutes, she’s called me a slut and a bitch. She doesn’t deserve to keep her front teeth.

  “Can you give us a sec?” Troy says to the waitress, who looks relieved to see the narrow backs of the gruesome trio.

  As soon as the waitress leaves, I direct my full attention to Troy. “Can I tell you about your taste in women?” The sarcasm in my voice is honey-coated and dripping.

  Weaving his fingers through mine, Troy sighs. “I know. I know. She’s a first-class bitch.”

  “Bitch is being generous,” I mutter. “She’s completely unhinged.”

  “I did say first-class,” he teases, trying to cajole a smile from me. When I remain straight-faced, he shakes his head ruefully and says, “Don’t ask me what I was thinking.”

  “Yeah, what were you thinking?” I ask crossly. I’m not ready to give in so easily.

  His finger caresses the top of my hand in a circling motion as he stares directly into my eyes. “Right now, I’m thinking that I’m the luckiest guy in the world because I’m sitting here with you. Because tonight I’m going home with you.” Between his words, and the dimples that accompany his sexy smile, I’m able to push the recent unpleasantness to the back of my mind.

  I smile faintly, probably a little goofily. “You’re good.”

  He smirks. “Yeah, and I have your scratches on my back to prove it.”

  I let out a startled laugh. I can’t believe he went there. My face warms and desire starts to thrum between my legs.

  “I must have pretty good taste in women if I’m with you,” he murmurs, his gaze dropping to my mouth.

  “And don’t you forget it,” I warn huskily.

  “Believe me, I won’t.”

  Leaning across the table, I kiss him briefly on the lips. I draw back and settle into my chair. “Just giving you a small taste of what you’ll be getting tonight,” I say primly.

  Troy clears his throat, runs his tongue over his bottom lip and picks up his menu. “Then c’mon and order so we can hurry up and get the hell out of here.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Spending the Saturday of Memorial Day weekend at Saginaw Beach for us has become a tradition that started our sophomore year.

  At eleven in the morning, the parking lot is only half-filled but I know from experience that in a couple hours, it will be packed to capacity. The place will look as if everyone in upstate New York has converged here. Last year Scott discovered an area not quite as crowded as the main stretch of beach. It’s a bit of a trek from the parking lot, but the added seclusion is worth it.

  “I hope the beer you got in there is cold.” I nod over at the ice cooler in the back of Zach’s truck.

  “You and me both,” Zach says with a wry laugh.

  “I hope it’s not just beer in there,” Rebecca calls out from the other side of the truck, where she’s hoisting a striped blue-and-white canvas beach bag from out of the back seat and over her shoulder.

  She and Scott hitched a ride with Zach and Liv. Em drove in with April and me, and had complained the first five minutes of the forty-minute drive that she was always the odd person out. April had reminded her that she’s alone by choice. Em had quickly changed the subject after that.

  “Liv, please tell my girlfriend you packed her sissy drinks before she loses it,” Scott teases, placing a kiss on her shoulder.

  Rebecca giggles and playfully pushes him away. “I do not lose it.”

  Scott eyes smolders as he murmurs suggestively, “Yeah, you do.”

  His girlfriend’s face turns beet red.

  “Okay you two, enough of that. You’ll have time for that later,” April interjects as she hip checks my passenger door closed. “Finals are over and we have sun, the beach, food and alcohol. We’re wasting time here people.” She then joins me at the trunk and reaches for the blue beach umbrella.

  “So impatient.” I brush her grabby hands aside. “I’ll get this and the chairs. You can get the bag with the towels.”

  “I can take the food too,” she insists.

  “No you won’t.” She packed a cooler with cold-cut sandwiches, cheese and crackers, and potato, macaroni and fruit salad. I snatch it from under her nose.

  Scott in turn, jumps into action and takes it from me. “I got it.”

  April rolls her eyes. “I’m not helpless.”

  “No one said you were.” Why should she do any heavy lifting if I’m available? That’s right, she shouldn’t.

  Smiling tenderly, she stretches up and places a soft kiss on my cheek. By the time I turn to catch her lips with mine, she’s already pulled away, a teasing light in her eyes.

  “Let’s not start anything we can’t finish, huh?” The soft husk in her voice makes it clear that starting something is definitely on her mind. And since we got together, it’s always on mine.

  “The minute we get home…” I reply in a low warning tone that makes my meaning very explicit.

  Her eyes darken as her gaze drifts down to my mouth. “Promises, promises,” she mouths.

  Zach loudly clears his throat behind us. “If you two need a couple minutes. Or an hour…”

  “And a bed,” Liv chimes in cheekily.

  “We’ll understand,” Scott deadpans.

  “Yeah, we’ll understand,” Rebecca echoes, struggling not to laugh.

  I feel the tips of my ears getting hot but I’m more than ready with my comeback. I glance down at April and then at my smirking ex-roommate.

  “An hour? You’re one to talk. I barely had a decent night’s sleep for two goddamn years. If I hadn’t moved out, I’d have had to soundproof your
room myself.”

  I move on to Scott. “And I wasn’t the one who couldn’t wait to get back to my room during the Montreal trip. Where’d you and Rebecca go when you left the restaurant? Where was it, some alleyway? So pot turn and say hi to kettle. Oh, that’s right, you know each other intimately.”

  Rebecca directs her wide-eyed stared at me and then at her boyfriend, a blush suffusing her face. “Oh my God, I can’t believe you told him,” she squeaks.

  “I didn’t tell him anything,” Scott denies hotly.

  April is having the time of her life laughing at her friends’ embarrassment.

  Lawn chairs and umbrella in hand and knowing smile in place, I close the trunk with my elbow. “No one had to tell me. It was as obvious as the lipstick he tried to scrub off his face.”

  Zach grunts and shifts the cooler in his hands. “Okay, enough of this shit. Let’s get moving.”

  Just as I lock the car doors and engage the alarm, my cell phone vibrates against my leg. I think about not answering, then think better of it. It could be my mom. I lean the stuff in my hands against the car and dig it out of the side pocket of my swim trunks.

  A glance at the screen confirms it’s who I thought it was. I put the phone to my ear. “Hey, Mom.”

  “Tell her I said hi,” April says, smiling.

  “Troy, thank goodness I got a hold of you.”

  My heart sinks like a stone and my anxiety begins a rapid climb. I hold up my finger at April in the universal sign of give me a minute.

  “Mom, what’s wrong?” My chest constricts in fear. God, don’t let her say the cancer’s back.

  “It’s your father.”

  “Is he sick? Is he hurt?” I can’t get the words out fast enough.

  “No, it’s nothing like that,” she’s quick to assure me.

  Relief floods me, escaping my mouth in an audible exhalation of breath. No one’s hurt. No one’s sick. I can handle anything else. But while my panic subsides, my friends continue to stare at me, concern knitting their brows. April looks like she’s holding her breath.

  I offer a faint smile, shaking my head to let her know it’s not what she thinks. “You guys go ahead. I’ll catch up with you in a few minutes.”

  April hesitates and sends me a look as if to ask, Are you sure you don’t want me to stay?

  I shake my head again and motion for her to go ahead without me. She does, but with obvious reluctance.

  After I see their backs, I give my mom my full attention.

  “What’s going on with Dad?”

  “That’s the thing. I don’t know. I just know something’s wrong.”

  “Have you talked to him?”

  “Of course I have. He says there’s nothing wrong, but I know there is.”

  I sigh and run a hand through my hair. I don’t know what to say to her.

  “Do you want me to talk to him?” I guess I could if push comes to shove. But my dad isn’t the type of father who invites heart-to-heart conversations. I’m more comfortable having those kinds of conversations with my mom.

  “I’m not sure…” she replies on a heavy sigh. “I’m just worried about him. He’s at the office all the time now, even on weekends. He’s not eating properly and he’s losing weight.”

  My dad is an inch shorter than me, so he’s a pretty tall guy. He’s always kept himself in decent shape and nutritious eating has always been his montage. That he’s letting himself go is not a good sign.

  As for work, growing up he was a certified workaholic, but weekends were for the family. It was an unwritten law. The only reason he’d ever broken that rule was if he was getting ready for an audit.

  “Doesn’t he have an audit coming up?” I’m pretty sure my mom mentioned something about it the last time we talked.

  “The audit was over a month ago.”

  “How about if I come home early?” Maybe having me home will take a load off her shoulders. Worrying about my dad can’t be good for her recovery.

  “But you already have your ticket booked.”

  I shrug and turn from the direct glare of the sun. “I can change it. It’s no big deal.”

  “And waste all that money?” In my house, it’s my dad who’s the spendthrift, and my mom who’s the penny-pincher. Although, she’ll say she simply has a healthy respect for money. “Oh no, sweetheart, I don’t want you to do that. You’re going to be home in a couple weeks anyway.”

  “You sure? It’s not a big deal.” She knows all she has to do is say the word and I’m there.

  Her sigh lands heavy on my ears. “I’m probably just making a mountain out of a molehill. The last year’s been…difficult. For all of us. I’m sure this is just your dad’s way of coping.” She lets out another sigh. “I shouldn’t have called you.”

  “Of course you should have. That’s one of the perks of having kids.” My attempt to lighten her mood is greeted with silence.

  “Mom—”

  “Are you going to that beach with your friends today?” In an abrupt change of subject, she sounds like her normal self again.

  I look at the steady stream of cars, trucks and vans pulling into the parking lot. “We’re already here.”

  “Well then you go have fun with your friends and tell April I’m looking forward to seeing her when you two come home.”

  When I don’t immediately respond, she says in a soft reassuring voice, “Don’t worry about me, sweetheart. The worst is over. I’ll be fine.”

  My mind is somewhat at ease when I hang up with her a minute later. She’s convinced—and so am I—that Dad’s being Dad. When it comes to handling stuff like sickness and that kind of thing, he’s not exactly a pillar of strength. I know he loves us, but his company is his second family, which means he sometimes puts it first. Okay, more than sometimes.

  Whatever. It is what it is.

  My dad works hard and makes a ton of money doing what he loves. Growing up, my brother and I wanted for nothing. Not love or support. My mom got cancer and it’s taking a little time for him to get his head on straight. I get that. She’s in remission now, so I’m sure whatever he’s going through will straighten itself out. With that thought, I grab the chairs and umbrella and head toward the beach.

  Christ it’s hot.

  There are shouts and shrieks, and the sound of water splashing in the distance. From the pavement, I follow the winding dirt path through a clump of trees. Fifty feet in, I can see the shore. After a quick scan, I spot our group. While everyone else is setting up, laying down towels, April is standing, her hand shading her eyes as she stares in my direction.

  She’s dispensed with her cover up, revealing her smokin’-hot body in a white-and-black bikini.

  Christ all fucking mighty. Today is going to be pure torture. I give her a full-body appraisal. How the hell am I supposed to keep my hands off that?

  “Looks like you could use some help.”

  I jerk to a stop, my head swiveling to the voice behind me. My gaze encounters a platinum-blonde, bikini-clad female. I’m instantly treated to a flirtatious smile.

  She’s cute. Maybe even pretty. But what does it matter? I’m not interested.

  “Nah, I’m okay.”

  In a few short steps, she’s by my side. “I’m stronger than I look.”

  “Thanks, but I’m good,” I reply politely, before fixing my attention directly in front of me. And as I thought, April’s watching, one hand perched on her hip. I’m pretty sure she’s not smiling.

  “I’m Sandy.”

  For the love of God, why isn’t she getting the message?

  Ingrained manners compel me to respond with, “Troy.” I lengthen my stride but she keeps pace with me.

  “So, Troy, do you go to school around here?” she asks, apparently impervious to my obvious brush off because there’s no possible way she can think I’m encouraging her.

  I tried subtle, which clearly isn’t working. Now it’s time to go the direct route. I stop and turn to face her. “Listen,
Sandy, you seem like a nice person. But I’m here with my girlfriend.”

  Disappointment flashes in her eyes as her smile falls, but she makes an almost instantaneous recovery. “Oh. Okay. Well it was nice meeting you.” She’s gone before I can blink.

  Well that was easy.

  Shaking my head, I chuckle to myself and continue the trek toward my friends. Packed dirt soon gives away to loose, white sand, which fill my open-toed Nike sandals. The entire time, my eyes are on April, whose gaze never budges from mine.

  I’m grinning from ear to ear when I stop in front of her. She’s adorable when she’s jealous.

  “Gimme that before Liv starts burning.” Zach snatches the umbrella out of my hand before April can say a word. I let the chairs drop to my side onto the sand.

  As soon as Zach moves off, she glares at me and asks archly, “Making new friends are we?”

  “You saw,” I say, my voice rising in protest. “She came and started talking to me. I was being polite.” I can’t help the smile spreading over my face.

  “Would you have been polite if she wasn’t pretty?”

  “Was she pretty? I barely even noticed,” I say straight-faced.

  She crosses her arms and the cleavage it creates dries my mouth quicker than the desert sun. I’m parched and she’s a fucking oasis.

  “Why would I even look sideways at anyone else when I have you. I’d be insane.” This time I’m dead serious and she knows it. Her face colors prettily and she reaches up and kisses me on the lips.

  “That’s the right answer.”

  I laugh. “Anyway, you’re a fine one to talk. We can’t go anywhere without some idiot hitting on you.”

  “He’s an idiot because he hits on me?” she asks, feigning hurt.

  “No, he’s an idiot because he wants what he can’t have.” My gaze devours the flat narrowness of her waist and the long slim length of her sun-kissed thighs.