by Sarah Morgan
His stomach was hollow. “Not since the first time.”
“When, naturally, you said no.”
“Why ‘naturally’?”
She kept eye contact. “Because you’re afraid of letting him down. They love you, but you won’t let yourself trust that love. You’re afraid you’re going to mess up and that if you do, they’ll stop loving you. It’s natural not to want to disappoint the people we love, and you love Philip and Celia.”
He shifted uncomfortably. “I appreciate what they’ve done for me.”
“You love them.” She reached out and picked up her wine. “And they love you. They loved the boy you were back then and they love the man you’ve become. They didn’t give up on you. Not once. And what I’m wondering is, why is one set of evidence more meaningful than another?”
His mouth was dry and he took a sip of water. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“We make our decisions based on knowledge and experience. When you were young, the evidence told you that you had to look out for yourself because no one else would. You worked out that the way to stop being hurt was not to care. The way not to care was to stop making connections with people, so that’s what you did. But that changed a long time ago. You can’t live on Puffin Island and not make connections. It isn’t possible.”
“You’re saying I’ve made connections I don’t know about?”
She smiled. “No. I’m saying you’ve made connections you’re not willing to acknowledge. You think you’re the same as you were twenty years ago when you came here for the first time, but you’re not. None of us are. We’re all born with certain character traits but who we are, what we become, is the result of our experiences. If we know there’s a chance we’ll be eaten by a sabre-toothed tiger, we develop a weapon with which to defend ourselves. Humans change and evolve, not only in a macro sense over centuries but over a single lifetime. And I’m wondering when the last time was you really examined the evidence.”
“Evidence?”
“The evidence that there are plenty of people looking out for you. Not just Philip and Celia, but Ryan, Emily. Me. It’s the reason I scared you the first time. I cared about you.” She paused and then seemed to make a decision. “I loved you.”
Plenty of women had been attracted to him because he was the bad boy and he’d been happy to oblige, layering on an extra layer of badness just for them. At least their expectations had been easy to live up to. Walking away had been easy.
With Brittany it had been different.
He hadn’t walked away. He’d run.
“You were discovering your wild side.”
“I loved you. I admit it was a pretty immature kind of love. And maybe a little bit selfish, but it was love. And because I didn’t see any reason to hold those feelings back, I didn’t. But that’s in the past. Since then you’ve made plenty of connections, but you’re afraid to acknowledge them. You don’t want to admit that you feel, because if you feel you can be hurt and you worked out a way to stop yourself being hurt. You switched that side of yourself off a long time ago.” She gave an awkward shrug. “Sorry. That was a bit deep for our first real date. Are we having dessert? Because Em told me they do the best blueberry cheesecake.”
Zach wouldn’t have noticed if they’d fed him ashes.
She’d loved him?
He’d assumed their relationship was physical. That when he’d walked out he’d done her a favor. He’d assumed that any hurt he’d caused would have been superficial and short-lived.
“You didn’t know me.”
“I knew enough. Maybe not the details of your past, but I knew you. I saw how resilient you were, and how strong. I saw that you were prepared to use that strength to protect people and animals who needed protecting. I saw how you refused to let life crush you, how you took a passion and ran with it. I saw the belief you had in yourself. I loved all that.” She gave a half smile and sent him a look that fried his brain. “And I also loved the way you kissed and did all those other things.”
He didn’t smile.
The one thing that had kept his guilt in check over the years was the belief that their relationship hadn’t meant that much to her.
“If you felt that way then why, when you arrived back here, did you pretend you felt nothing?”
She shrugged. “Pride? Every damn person on this island was watching me, waiting for me to fall apart.”
“I hurt you.” His voice was rough. “How badly did I hurt you? I want the truth.”
She was silent for a moment. “Quite badly, but it worked out fine in the end. I went to college, and that’s where I met Emily and Skylar. They had problems of their own, and we kept each other going. Supported each other. We used to laugh that we were like a three-legged chair. If one of us left, that would be it. The other two would crash to the ground in a heap.”
Pain, guilt, regret mingled up inside him in a toxic cocktail.
“Let’s get out of here. We’ll eat dessert at home.”
She didn’t argue, and by mutual agreement they chose to go to Seagull’s Nest rather than Castaway Cottage because it was closer.
They made it back to Camp Puffin in record time, their hands and mouths greedy for each other as they stumbled through the door.
He didn’t bother removing her dress. Just shoved it up to her waist and drove into her again and again until she cried out his name and sank her fingers into his shoulders. There was a soft thud as one of her shoes fell to the floor and then the other, and then she was wrapping her legs around him urging him on.
If he’d expected the sex to extinguish the unfamiliar emotions, he was disappointed.
Afterwards he lit the wood-burning stove, while Brittany sprawled on the bed watching. “You look like Neolithic man, lighting the fire while woman lies here in wait.”
“Is that what happened? Seems to me woman had it easy.” He returned to the bed and folded her against him, feeling the warmth of her skin against his.
The glow from the fire sent a golden glow over smooth, bare skin. Her face was bare of makeup, her cheeks and neck slightly flushed from the brutal graze of his stubble.
With a flash of guilt, Zach lifted a hand to his jaw. “I should have shaved.”
She flashed him a grin that was pure sex. “No, you shouldn’t.” She pushed him onto his back and straddled him, lithe as a cat. Her eyes were sleepy and full of intent as she ran her palms over the roughness of his jaw. “I love you just the way you are.”
Her words knocked the breath from his lungs.
No one had ever loved him just the way he was. All his life people had wanted him to act differently, speak differently, just be different.
Acceptance had been a thing as alien to him as love.
But she, apparently, had accepted and loved him.
With a blinding flash Zach realized he’d walked away from the one thing that had always been missing in his life. Not because he hadn’t wanted it, but because he hadn’t recognized it. Hadn’t believed in it. Hadn’t trusted it.
For Brittany, he hadn’t been an outlet for rebellion, a statement, an experiment or any of the other things he’d assumed when he’d analyzed it using his own narrow reference.
She’d truly loved him, and he’d thrown that away. Feelings crashed over him, unfamiliar and disturbingly intense.
He’d had his chance and he’d blown it in spectacular style.
One thing, he thought. There was one thing he knew how to do right.
Rolling her onto her back, he slid down her body and spread her legs.
He clamped her writhing hips between his hands and licked into her, hearing her moan his name as he did so.
This intimacy he knew, and he excelled at the delivery.
She came with an agonized cry and he experienced all of it with his fingers and his mouth and then eased over her and entered her slowly.
Her body tightened around his and he closed his eyes and buried his face in her neck.
Her h
air smelled of strawberries and summer rain and he could feel the warmth of her breath, uneven and fast against his skin.
He felt the gentleness of her fingers brushing against his jaw, heard the soft murmur of her voice as she whispered his name.
And then she whispered something else. Words that until tonight he hadn’t thought he’d ever hear. And she whispered them over and over again, like a mantra.
It shook him, unsettled him and he slid his hand under her, trying to find the smooth rhythm that usually came so naturally, but he couldn’t focus on anything except her voice and those words. They fell like rain onto parched ground, soaking into those cold hard places that no one, including himself, had ever been able to access. He felt something inside him shift and unravel and he gave a groan and tried to withdraw, but her legs were wrapped around him, her hands behind his neck as she drew his head down to hers.
“I love you.” This time she said the words against his mouth, and he kissed her deeply, trying to silence her, hoping that raw lust might burn out all these other feelings that were throwing him off his stroke.
But nothing felt the same.
He felt her arch, offering him more and he tried to give her the experience he knew she deserved, tried to find that smooth technique that never failed him, but every movement felt awkward and uneven.
It didn’t feel like technique, it felt like—
Making love.
He stilled above her but she moved against him, her body refusing to release him. He felt her feelings flowing all around him, seeping under his skin and deeper, warming parts of him that had been frozen into ice. The heat was intense and he struggled against it but she was drawing him in, saying his name over and over again, telling him how much she wanted him, how he could trust her, how she would never hurt him. And he opened his mouth to warn her that he was the one who was going to hurt her, that she should protect herself, that she should run, but the only sound that emerged was a fractured groan and still the heat spread, this time reaching those tiny corners of his soul that hadn’t seen light or warmth for several decades.
He’d already hurt her once. She should be holding back, protecting herself, but instead she gave and gave, stroking her hand over his cheek and then down over his back.
“I love you.” She spoke the words softly against his mouth again. “I still love you, Zach. It’s always been you.”
The words ripped him open, exposing that raw place he’d protected all of his life.
Emotion came rushing up inside him and he groaned her name, engulfed in sensations he didn’t recognize. He tried desperately to focus on her needs, but the mental detachment required was missing and the pleasure came rushing in, crashing over him in hot pulsing waves, drowning them both. He felt her hands tighten on his backside, and he drove into her again, emptying himself inside her. And through it all she kissed him, held him until there wasn’t a single part of him that hadn’t been touched by her warmth.
And afterwards they stayed locked together, strands of her hair clinging to his damp shoulder, as he held her close.
He knew what she wanted him to say.
He could see it in her eyes and feel it in the heavy, syrupy silence that was an inevitable consequence of what had just happened.
And he wanted to say something.
He wanted to apologize for not having given her the sex she deserved, for having lost his rhythm, his ruthless control, his mind.
He wanted to assure her that next time he’d get his head together and be back to his normal self. Wanted to tell her to wait around for an hour and he’d be sure to get his performance back to normal levels.
He opened his mouth to say something and then she reached up and delivered a lingering kiss to his mouth.
“That,” she said softly, “was the best sex of my life.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
“THERE WAS SOMETHING about the way he looked at me. For a minute I thought he was going to say I love you. How crazy is that?” She was with Emily and Skylar, and they’d opted for a picnic on the beautiful sandy curve of Shell Bay. A little distance away from them Lizzy was playing with Cocoa on the sand. The child threw the ball and the little dog bounded after it, skidded to a halt and then sprinted back with it locked firmly in her teeth while Emily watched them both closely.
“You mean you wanted him to say it.” Skylar foraged through the various treats while Brittany sprawled on her stomach on the blanket.
Apart from a family on the far side of the beach, they had Shell Bay to themselves.
“Maybe I did. Yes, okay, I admit it, I did.” She gave a groan of frustration and rolled onto her back. “Three little words, that’s all. How hard is it to say three little words?”
“It depends on the words. He’s not the first person to have a problem with those particular three.”
Brittany lifted her hand to her mouth and started to chew the edge of her nail and then let her hand drop as she caught Sky’s eye. “Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize. It’s true that I don’t see the point in ruining your nails over a man, but nor do I think you’re crazy. You two have been pretty cosy. Spending a lot of time together.”
Emily unwrapped meat they’d bought from the deli. “I don’t want you to be hurt the way you were hurt before.”
“That was then and this is now. It’s different.”
“He’s the same guy, Brittany.”
“Yes, and I loved that guy! I loved his resilience, his strength, the fact that despite everything—and I didn’t even know what everything was then—despite everything, he never lost his humanity or his kindness. And it is different now. He’s dealing with things differently. He’s talking. He’s opening up. We’re close.”
“Naked close.” Today Sky was wearing a dress of cerulean blue which she’d teamed with bold silver earrings. With her long golden hair and blue eyes she looked like a summer flower. “Naked close isn’t the same as emotional close.”
“That’s right. Sex is sex, but a relationship is intimacy,” Emily said slowly. “It’s about knowing someone and allowing them to know you back. That’s the really scary part.”
“You’re talking as if he’s a stranger. We were married for God’s sake!”
“Were you? Really? You exchanged vows and rings—” Sky caught Brittany’s eye and gave a faint smile. “Okay, maybe not a whopping diamond or anything—”
“It was a cheap ring from a gift store. I bought it.”
“Whatever. You wouldn’t have cared about that if you’d had something real and sustainable. The problem was that you never really shared anything of yourselves.”
“That’s what I’m telling you. Now we are. And emotional close makes everything different. Better. People evolve. Nothing stays the same.”
“Well, then, that’s good,” Emily said firmly and Sky nodded.
“Really good. Yay.”
Brittany looked at her friends and gave a humorless laugh. “You’re both crap at hiding your feelings. You don’t think it’s good. You think this is going to end in tears.”
“We care about you, that’s all. And we’re hoping he’ll say those words soon.”
“Or we’ll kick his butt,” Sky said happily, helping herself to more food.
“I have some news, too.” Emily handed out drinks. “I went to talk to Doug Mitchell about renting the empty store near the end of Main Street.”
Brittany opened the drink. “Is this for you or for someone else?”
“For me. I’ve been playing with the numbers. I want to open a store that sells a variety of things with a seaside theme. Despite the obvious market, there’s nothing like that on the island. The artists who work here take their stuff to the mainland. There’s a woman who lives over near Puffin Point who makes beautiful mirrors out of driftwood. And John Harris makes those awesome wooden boats like the one he made for Lizzy. I’ve already talked to him, and he’d be interested in making more.”
“Paintings? Jewelry? I can
see that working. I think it’s a great idea. I can make you a few pieces to sell.” They finished eating and Skylar wiped her fingers on a napkin while Brittany started tidying up.
“It sounds exciting.”
She tried to ignore the little pang inside her.
Both her friends knew what they wanted to do. They both had a clear vision of the future, whereas hers was murky and opaque.
For the first time in her life, she had no idea what she wanted to do.
All she knew was that she wanted to stay here, living close to her friends, breathing in the salty air when she woke up every morning. She wanted to walk in the forest, watch the sun go down over the ocean from the terrace of the Ocean Club.
Most of all she wanted to be with Zach.
After a decade of traveling, she was ready to settle down in some form, although she was flexible about how that looked. All she knew was that she was tired of carrying her life in a backpack.
Should she tell him?
Yes. She’d tell him how she felt and ask him to be honest with her.
Hope lifting her mood, she scrambled to her feet and turned her attention back to her friends. “So what are you going to call your gift store?”
“I don’t know, but I want something with ‘seashore’ in the title.”
“Something Seashore.” Skylar grinned. “Perfect. I’ll design you a logo.” She sighed as her phone rang. She delved into the bag and the smile faded from her face as she saw the caller ID. “Excuse me. I have to take this.” She scrambled to her feet and walked away from them across the sand, her voice carrying in the wind. “Richard? I wasn’t expecting—well, I know that, but I thought you were—”
Feeling as if she was eavesdropping, Brittany caught Emily’s eye. “I don’t like what being with him does to her.”
“Me neither. It reminds me of college.”
“When she was trying to escape from the pressure her parents put on her? I was thinking the same thing.”
They couldn’t hear the rest of the conversation, but when Sky finally walked back to them her smile was forced.
“Sorry. I’m going to have to leave.”
“Now?” Emily’s tone was gentle as she scrambled to her feet. “We were going to spend a little more time on the beach and then I was going to run you up to the airfield in time for your late-afternoon flight.”
