“Georgia.” Strong arms curled around me and held me so tightly I could hardly breathe. I refused to open my eyes. I wanted to stay in the world I’d found for myself. The world where the pain subsided for just a little while.
“Georgia, thank God.”
I nuzzled into the body that held me and took a deep breath.
That scent.
His scent.
Tears jumped to my eyes as I snuggled in desperately. I wrapped my arms round his neck and my fingers curled into his too long hair. The hair that I loved to thread my fingers through and tug gently. The hair I dreamed about, the beautiful golden strands I saw on the kids in my daydreams.
“Tristan,” I whispered as he hauled me out of the water. He sat down, his clothes drenched, me in his lap. I curled around his body, locked my ankles behind his back as he held me in an iron grip. He held me forever and he didn't ask any questions. He knew I didn’t have the strength for words.
“I came to see you. I wanted to have coffee on the deck. I missed our mornings together. I couldn’t stay away anymore.” He rocked me back and forth, soothing me against his chest. Our wet clothes plastered to our skin as we sat tangled in each other. I took deep, calming breaths of his intoxicating scent. Stubborn tears trickled down my cheeks.
“I love you,” I said so quietly I wasn't sure he’d heard me. I didn't care. I hadn’t said it for him. He heaved a big sigh, and I felt his heart hammering in his chest, my own meeting his, beat for beat. His fingers wove into the hair at my nape.
“Georgia,” he breathed. He held my head tightly in the crook of his neck.
“Thank you,” I murmured.
“For what?” His husky voice breathed in my ear.
“Coming to me,” was all I said―all I could say.
Twenty-Seven
Georgia
TRISTAN STAYED AFTER he found me floating in the ocean. Weeks passed, the waves crashed, the wind blew, the summer slipped by, and all the while, a silent understanding existed between us. We didn't talk about what had happened, what had been said, but we'd been affected. I’d taken off Kyle's ring, but I hadn't told him yet―at least all the things I needed to say. I didn't know if I had the strength to break up with Kyle, but I knew I had to tell him. He deserved honesty, I was sure of that at least. He’d ceased calling every day; he’d apparently grown sick of my one-word responses because we were back to calling and texting a few times a week. I knew he was busy, and it was easier this way. Whenever we spoke on the phone, guilt for cheating on him tightened my chest and choked the words in my throat. It was easier to not talk at all.
The days flew by and Silas and Drew tried to pull me out of myself. They talked about house renovations and dragged me on outings to pick out paint colors or shop for furniture. I made decisions when necessary, but I didn’t feel the excitement I once had. Gavin and Tristan worked each day, and Tristan spent a lot of time on his boat, but every night he came home, and every morning we sat on the porch over coffee. Not much was said and we hadn’t slept together again, hadn’t even touched. The easy smile I’d fallen so hard for at the beginning of the summer had disappeared from his face. We'd broken each other. I knew I’d done most of the breaking, but regardless, we were both broken. I was living inside my head―working through my life, sifting through the rubble, making sense of what was left.
Soon we found ourselves in the middle of August. We were officially into hurricane season and a storm was predicted in the coming days. Drew had scheduled a construction company to come in and refinish the second story bedrooms, but with the approaching storm, they’d recommended we put the work off until it had passed.
Hurricane Isla was predicted to make landfall up the coast and while we wouldn’t take a direct hit, the effects could be severe and damaging nonetheless. Many in the area were boarding up and evacuating. I was determined to stay until I was forced to leave. Over the summer this house had become my home. We were making progress on the remodel, and I was as stubborn as I was smart, so I wasn't willing to pack up the one thing that had become essential to my existence over the past few months.
As the winds picked up and the days grew more overcast, more houses along the beach were shuttered and vacated. Silas was with Justin, the guy he’d been dating on and off all summer. They’d gone inland to weather out the storm at Justin’s house, and Gavin and Drew drove back to Jacksonville for a few days. In the end Tristan told Drew that he would stay with me until I left, or until they could make it back. I rolled my eyes at their entire conversation, as if they were talking about a child or someone who was sick; I was neither, I had just succumbed to the pain and the guilt that’d been chasing me. Finally Drew and Gavin had driven off after she’d hugged me tightly and had made me promise a thousand times over to call her if I needed her. She promised she would come rushing back. I knew that she would, and I promised her I would call if I needed her, knowing I wouldn’t. She also whispered in my ear to not be afraid to lean on Tristan. I nodded, but I knew I wouldn't do that either. She left with a pained look on her face as they pulled away.
That left Tristan and me alone. He’d refused to leave me by myself, even though I’d insisted I didn’t need him to stay with me. Things weren't even awkward between us. Awkward was a feeling, and I’d run out of those.
I made a list of things we'd need for the storm, and Tristan and I drove into town to stock up. Things were picked over, but we managed to get batteries, flashlights, a weather radio, bottled water, and plenty of canned goods. I made breakfast for dinner that night―eggs, bacon, and toast, and we sat quietly in the living room, television turned to The Weather Channel, watching the progress of the storm as we sipped white wine. We didn't talk much, but I was glad to have someone there, another body in the house.
I stood, wrapped an afghan around my shoulders, and stepped out on the deck. I sat on the porch swing and rocked it back and forth with one foot. I sipped my wine and tipped my head up to look at the midnight sky. The waves were rushing the shore in a thunderous, nearly deafening roar. A noise so loud it couldn’t be escaped. It left little room for the thoughts to take over my brain.
“Kyle texted.” Tristan stepped out on the deck and passed me my phone.
“Thanks.” I checked his message. He'd been texting more the last few days, asking me to come home before the worst of the storm hit. When I did answer, it was brief, and I promised I would keep him up to date. I frowned and looked at the most recent message before turning my phone off and setting it next to me on the railing.
“Have you talked to him lately?”
My eyes focused on Tristan’s. We didn't talk about Kyle. Not ever. Not since that day on the porch when he’d told me he couldn’t stay because I’d destroyed him. “No,” I answered.
“He's probably worried.” He took a seat next to me and tipped his wine glass to his lips. The distance between us felt like a million miles. Gone were the easy moments we'd shared together in the beginning, replaced with painful silence.
“He is. He wants me to lock up the house and go home,” I said.
“I didn't mean about the storm. He's probably worried about you, Georgia,” he said sadly. I didn't answer him. “I am too.” He finally turned to look at me. I continued to stare out at the huge waves, refusing to allow myself to look at his swirling, deep green eyes. His piercing gaze would splinter my soul if I allowed it to. I pressed my lips together to keep a handle on the emotion straining just beneath the surface.
“You don't have to be,” I said finally.
“I can't help but think it's my fault.”
“It's not,” I answered him.
“Fuck, Georgia.” He ran an agitated hand through his hair. “You sound dead.”
“I am,” I answered before looking into his eyes.
“Georgia.” My name escaped his lips on a breath. I frowned at him before looking up in the sky.
“You let it take you―the pain. You’re gone. The girl that I took sailing this summer is
gone. The girl that read on the beach with me―she's gone.” The pain radiated off him. I only shrugged and continued to focus on the night sky above me. So much for wishing on shooting stars, I thought. I’d been here just a few short months ago, the same swing, with the same person, and wished that I could follow the right path for my life without hurting those I loved in the process. Boy, had that gone spectacularly wrong.
“You should talk to someone, Georgia.”
“I have. I’ve gone to therapists, but the nightmares don't stop. The pain doesn't go away.” The numbness was so profound I may as well have been talking about what I’d had for dinner the night before.
“You can talk to me.” He placed a comforting hand on my knee.
“I can’t.” My eyes darted to his hand before looking at the sky. Just a few short weeks ago and his touch would have had my nerves dancing. Now they felt all but dead.
“Can't or won’t?” He squeezed my leg.
“Both.” I stood and walked back into the house and into my bedroom.
* * *
“GEORGIA, WAKE UP. It's okay, it's just a dream.”
I woke up to arms shaking me gently, a firm body wrapped around me. The hollow echo of gun shots ran a constant loop in my brain.
Scream. Pop. Scream. Pop. Scream. Pop.
My skin was damp with sweat. Moonlight streamed in my window. My eyes shot to green ones that were searching mine, a worried frown and clenched jaw watching me.
“It was just a dream, I’m right here. You’re okay.” He laid me back on my bed. “I heard you from down the hall.” The gentle cadence of his voice soothed me. “I’m staying with you tonight. Just go back to sleep,” he shushed before wrapping his hand around my waist, throwing a leg over mine, tangling me in him from head to toe. He pressed his chest to my side and I curled up into the crook of his arm and inhaled his comforting, clean scent. I burrowed closer and shut my eyes tightly. These nightmares were going to destroy me. Or at least give me dark circles for the remainder of my time on earth. I gritted my teeth in anger. What they'd taken from me, I couldn't get back. It was out of my reach and I didn't know what that meant. I couldn't fathom a life like this for the next fifty years and I didn't want to. I just didn’t know how to fix it.
Tristan started singing in a soft timbre in my ear, the song he’d played for me in the car on the way to the vineyard. Poison and Wine by The Civil Wars.
I don’t have a choice, but I’d still choose you.
The words drifted through my thoughts, holding so much more meaning now than they had then. I knew the pain in the lyrics. I knew what it felt like to want someone so completely that it broke you inside when you couldn’t have them.
He hummed and rocked me gently as I tried to clear my brain and focus only on the sound of the waves crashing and Tristan's deep voice soothing me. I settled into a modicum of comfort and finally fell asleep.
* * *
I WOKE THE next morning to the sound of shrill ringing. My head was foggy. I’d slept like shit all night after the nightmare. Having Tristan nearby helped, but my mind was in such a bad place lately, getting rest was becoming nearly impossible. I jumped out of bed and ran to the kitchen to find Tristan on the house phone. He hung up a few moments later with a frown marring his face.
“The city is warning us to prepare to evacuate. The storm is supposed to make shore in the next twenty-four hours.” He sat at the dining table with his laptop open before him.
“I thought the storm was hitting north of us?”
“It is, but they’re predicting a lot of damage. Flooding, high winds. Maybe we should board up and head out, Georgia. Get a hotel inland until the storm’s passed and then we’ll come back―”
“I’m not leaving. You can go, Tristan. I’ll be fine. I’ll leave if there's a mandatory evacuation, but I’m staying until then.” I turned and scooped coffee grounds into a filter.
“You’re here, I’m here.” He slipped an arm around my waist and pulled me next to his body. I froze at the unexpected contact. He hadn't touched me like this in weeks. Maybe he'd gotten the wrong idea by sleeping in bed with me last night; maybe I shouldn't have let him.
“Tristan, I―”
“I know.” He pulled away with a reassuring smile. I nodded while I waited for the coffee to finish brewing. Tristan pulled down two mugs, and I filled them and made my way to the porch. I grabbed a quilt on the way and wrapped myself in it before curling up in a deck chair. Tristan took his place next to me, and we sipped coffee quietly while watching the storm brewing offshore.
“Are you working today?” I asked absentmindedly.
“Nothing that can’t be put off for a few days ’til the storm passes.” The corner of his mouth lifted in a small smile. I nodded and turned back to the water.
The waves roared and crashed, and the beach looked wild and haunting with an overcast grey sky and wind whipping the dune grass. I timed my breathing with the waves hitting the shore and scanned the horizon. It felt like my head and my heart were a whirl of shifting emotion. One minute I yearned for a future with Tristan―those golden-haired kids haunting my dreams, and the next I wanted to run back into Kyle's arms and never leave.
That's why I held myself at a distance from both of them. I texted Kyle and talked to him a few times, but it wasn't hard avoiding the tough conversations because he was so busy. Tristan on the other hand broke my heart when I had to look into his beautiful, sad eyes and see his weak smile every day.
“Penny for your thoughts?” He crooked a grin at me. I heaved a sigh and looked at him.
A grin crept across my lips as his twinkling eyes gazed back at me. “I don't want to leave here.” I looked back out to the clouds speeding across the sky.
“We won't unless it's mandatory.”
“No, I don't want to leave ever. Part of me wants to stay through the off season,” I said aloud, but more to myself. He remained silent beside me. I finally looked over at him after a few quiet minutes passed. He was gazing down the beach with a thoughtful look on his face.
* * *
“WE JUST GOT another call, Georgia.” Tristan ducked his head into my room later that afternoon.
“Mandatory evacuation?” I frowned.
“No, but highly recommended.” He stepped in the doorway and crossed his arms, leaning against the doorframe.
“Do you have to do anything with your boat?”
“The marina secures all vessels. But maybe we should think about―”
“I don't want to go yet,” I mumbled as I dug through my closet for a sweater.
“I know, Georgia, but―”
“I don't want to go yet.” I shot him an angry glance. “We’ve got everything ready, we’re okay still.”
“Okay,” he said cautiously before turning to leave. Part of me was starting to wish he would have gone back with Drew and Gavin―he was becoming a pain in my ass.
The rain started to pelt the roof and beat on the sand outside. It was an instant downpour and I walked to the doors in my room and watched it coming down. It was oddly therapeutic, strangely exciting. It felt like the future was unknown, and I wondered if it was morbid of me to enjoy the adrenaline high of watching the storm sweep in around us. But I knew I couldn’t leave. This felt completely like my home now -- I’d bought it, decorated it. I’d only been here a few short months, but I wasn't ready to surrender it to this big, angry storm.
The winds picked up and the dune grass twisted outside my window. The waves pounded the shore and the sky dimmed to near black. I instantly had the urge to head outside and feel the power of the elements against my skin. I stepped out the doors and walked down the steps.
“What do you need? I’ll get it.” Tristan bounded out of the French doors off the living room and caught my arm. The wind whipped around my face and snapped my hair against my neck. The rain stung as it pelted my skin and streamed down my body in rivulets.
“I don't need anything.” I tugged my arm out of his grip.
A confused look crossed his face before I continued down the steps. I couldn't hear him over the howling wind and rain, but I knew he was following me.
I held my hands out, palms upturned, and felt the rain stinging my hands. The cold drops cooled my skin after all the humidity we'd had this summer. The wind whipped and I turned my head to the sky, my eyes squeezed shut. A wide grin spread across my face as I felt the angry drops pounding my body. A banging from behind me caught my attention and I spun to find a shutter had ripped off the house and landed in a corner of the deck.
“Georgia, we should go.” Tristan grabbed my hand and tugged.
“No,” I hollered over the roaring of the elements.
“It's dangerous.” His eyes pleaded as his hand tugged.
“No, I want to stay.” I shook my head stubbornly.
“I’m not letting you go, Georgia. Come on.” Fire flashed in his eyes.
“Let go,” I screamed and yanked my arm from his grasp.
“Georgia,” he growled before lifting me in his arms and hauling me over his shoulder. He stomped toward the house and I beat on his back with closed fists.
“Let me go,” I screamed. “I want to be here, this is my home.” I wrestled out of his grasp, hit the sand and ran back toward the angry frothing waves. The power of it overwhelmed me, consumed me, made me feel alive. I was sick of being safe. My entire life I’d been safe and only bad things had happened.
Tristan's arms circled my waist and held me tightly.
“Go.” I tried wrestling out of his grip before my body finally went slack. “It’s not working,” I sobbed.
“What?”
“The rain―it’s not cleansing. I don’t feel it cleansing.”
“Georgia. Let me take you in. You’re going to get hurt.” He spun me in his arms and held my head in both his hands. Just like he’d done every other time he'd kissed me. I shut my eyes tight to block his beautiful face from my line of vision and the sweet memory from my mind.
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