by Robin Huber
“You too, Liv.” She smiles over the sadness in her eyes. “Nice to see you too, Gabe,” she says tentatively, giving him a small smile, before walking away.
He raises his eyebrows. “Nice to see me?”
“What? What is it?”
He frowns and shakes his head. “I come in here every week and she’s never said as much as hello to me.”
“Huh. That’s weird.”
“Not weird. I told you how people around here see me. She’s not a fan.”
I crease my eyebrows. Certainly that’s not the case with Audrey. Maybe she just didn’t know what to say. I’m sure the accident affected her in ways we’re not aware of. I look up at Gabe and smile. “Well, I’m a fan. A big one. Now, feed this groupie before she starves to death!”
He fights a smile. “Chicken and waffles coming up. And an egg white omelet for me.”
“An egg white omelet?”
“I ate about two-thousand calories for lunch alone yesterday. If I’m not careful I’ll get soft around the middle with you around.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Good point. Don’t want to lose those washboard abs,” I say, staring at my menu, but I see him shake his head and smile out of my peripheral vision. I like seeing Gabe smile. Brooding Gabe isn’t the Gabe I know. My Gabe is happy. Or at least, he was. We both were.
Now, his smiles are like little gifts that he only hands out on special occasions.
We enjoy our breakfast and chat over several cups of coffee before the check comes, by which time I’m officially a Salty Lou’s employee. Lou came out and hired me personally. He said he’s known my father for years and would be thrilled to have me on his staff.
I start tomorrow.
With my Salty Lou’s T-shirt in hand, we exit the diner and head toward Gabe’s truck. “Have you ever waited a table in your life, Liv?” Gabe asks.
“No”—I narrow my eyes at him—“but I’m a quick learner. And I need a job. It’s just temporary until I get my website up and running. And find some books to edit. And writers who are willing to pay me.” I scrunch my nose and shrug.
“Well, I guess I can’t complain. You’ll definitely improve the scenery in there.”
I frown, thinking of the young, flirty server who greeted him when we walked in. Surely he noticed her. And what about Audrey? She’s very pretty and still sporting her curves. “What about the prom queen?” I ask, like a jealous girlfriend.
“Prom queen?”
“The waitress who was more than happy to seat you when we walked in.”
He gauges me and, after a beat, laughs. “You’re kidding, right?”
I give him an incredulous look.
“Okay, first of all, I think she’s a teenager. And second”—he stops and looks down at me—“she doesn’t hold a candle to you.”
My heart screeches to a halt and I look away, because I know that if I look at him, he’ll see right through me. He’ll know that I’m at his mercy, that I’m ripe for injury, and he’ll pull back. I don’t think he’ll risk hurting me again. And I won’t risk losing his friendship.
Chapter 11
Liv
“All right, now ease off the clutch,” Gabe says, just as the engine chugs and stalls. He laughs. “Not that quick.”
“Sorry,” I say for the tenth time. Thankfully, we’re on an empty backroad that leads to the beach.
“Stop apologizing. You’ve got this. You just have to keep trying until you get the hang of it,” he says with a sincere and determined look on his face.
“You’re really sweet, but I was just kidding before. You don’t have to teach me how to drive your truck.”
“No, you should learn. What if something happened and you needed to drive it?”
As troubling as the thought is, he’s right. I nod my head. “All right.”
“Press the clutch to the floor and start the engine again.”
I jiggle the shifter around in neutral and do as I’m told, then I put the truck in first gear, like before.
“Now, slowly this time, ease off the clutch and give it a little gas.”
I follow his instructions, lifting my left foot off the clutch and pressing down on the gas pedal with my right foot, using equal pressure until the truck is traveling at about ten miles per hour. I look over at Gabe with a satisfied smile on my face.
“See, you did it,” he says encouragingly. “Now do it again,” he instructs as the speedometer nears twenty. “Push in the clutch and put it in second, just like you did with first.”
I focus and successfully put it in second gear.
“You got it.”
“Stop sign,” I say, panicked.
“Okay, just stop like normal. You don’t have to downshift. Just put it in neutral when you start to slow down.”
“Okay,” I say, concentrating, but I stall just shy of the stop sign. “Dammit.” I smack the steering wheel and Gabe laughs. “I’m sorry,” I say, looking over at him. I’m really not trying to ruin his truck. I’m not sure how much life it has left.
“You’re doing fine. You just have to get the hang of it, that’s all.” He reaches over and tucks a stray piece of hair behind my ear. “Brandon would be really proud.”
“Brandon would be laughing at me.”
“Maybe”—he laughs—“but I’m proud. You’re doing real good, ba—” He stops himself and shakes his head. “Sorry. Old habit.”
My heart physically hurts, not because he was going to call me baby, but because he didn’t, and now he’s apologizing for it. I force a half-hearted smile and say, “Old habits are hard to break.”
“Yes, they are.” He shakes his head and lets out an ironic laugh. “I’ll work on it. Now, how about you get us to the beach before the sun goes down?”
“Okay,” I say softly.
He drops his head to the side and looks at me. “You good?” he asks.
“Mm-hmm,” I lie, feigning a smile. I put the truck in neutral and start the engine again.
Forty-five minutes later, we arrive at the beach, a trip that should have only taken about ten minutes. Hopefully that’s my last lesson for a while. I park the truck on the side of the road against a sawgrass-covered sand dune. I can’t see the ocean yet, but I can hear the waves crashing against the shore and I can smell the salty sea air when I get out.
I close my eyes and take a deep breath, letting it fill my lungs and head with the smells and sounds of my childhood and, just like last time I was here, it satisfies a place deep in my soul. For a split second I let myself go back to the last summer we were all together and I can see Gabe and Brandon running around on the beach, throwing the football to each other.
I exhale and open my eyes.
Gabe is staring at me from across the hood of the truck. “You really missed it, didn’t you?”
I nod my head and hide behind my sunglasses.
He lowers the tailgate for Roxy and she jumps down and circles his legs. “Come here,” he says, kneeling down beside her. He hooks a leash onto her collar and she gives a little crying bark, like she’s trying to talk to him. “I’ll take it off when we get to the water,” he says to her, and she barks again. He grabs his surfboard and tucks it under his arm. “Ready?”
“Yeah. Can I take Roxy?”
“Sure.” He hands me her leash, but as soon as I take it from him, she lurches me forward. “No, Roxy,” he shouts, and she stops. “Tell her to heel,” he says to me.
“Heel, Roxy.” I tug on her leash and she falls back beside me. “Good girl.”
“She’ll drag you down the beach if you’re not careful. She loves the water.”
“A girl after my own heart,” I say, reaching down to pet her soft head. Her silky fur is already hot from the sun.
Once we’re past the dunes and safe from the sandspurs that cover them, I kick off my flip-flops and run through the soft sand, letting Roxy pull me down the beach, just like Gabe said she would. When I find a good spot, I stop and tug on her leash. “Roxy, st
op.” I grab a blanket out of my bag and spread it out on the sand. “How’s this?” I ask Gabe, who’s trotting toward me.
“Perfect,” he says, peering out at the surf. He’s much more interested in the water. “Waves look good today.” He leans down and takes Roxy’s leash off and, before he can say anything to her, she’s halfway to the water.
I laugh, watching her splash into the surf. “How’s the water?”
“Like bathwater this time of year. Just how you like it.”
I smile wide and start shrugging out of my shorts and tank top. I reach behind my neck and tighten the knot that’s holding my bikini top up. The girls are secure. I look up and see Gabe staring at me. “What?” It’s not like he hasn’t seen me in my bathing suit a hundred times before. I double check my top—everything’s covered.
“You still have that?” he asks, and I realize he’s looking at the gold compass ring he gave me, which is hanging on a delicate chain around my neck, resting on my chest.
My heart races and my cheeks flush with uncertainty. Maybe I should have taken it off. Maybe I shouldn’t have put it on in the first place. Maybe I should just explain that I like wearing it because it reminds me of better times. “Mm-hmm,” I say simply.
He looks out at the horizon and says, “I’m glad you kept it.”
I smile softly and swallow down my unnecessary concern.
He pulls his hat off and tosses it on the blanket.
I reach down and pick it up, dismayed. “Gabe, exactly how old is this—” His shirt lands at my feet and my eyes dart up to his torso. Sweet mother of all that is holy. I swallow hard and finish my thought, “Hat.”
He takes it from me. “I like this hat. It’s been through a lot with me.” He tosses it back on the blanket.
“I guess so.” I laugh and grab my sunscreen out of my bag. I spray it all over my body, rubbing it into my arms and legs. “Can you get my back for me?” I ask, handing Gabe the bottle.
“Sure.” He takes it from me and eyes the label. “SPF 60.”
I’ve already turned around, but I hear him laugh quietly.
“What? Not all of us tan as easily as you do. And besides, we should both be wearing good SPF now that we’re getting older.”
He runs his hand down the length of my hair, twisting it and placing it over my shoulder. He slides his fingers across my neck a few times to catch the loose strands and it sends a rush of warmth through me.
“Yeah, well, I guess it’s better than the tanning oil we used to use,” he says, spraying my back.
“What was that stuff, SPF 4 or something?” I shake my head, wondering how we didn’t fry out here.
“SPF 15, actually.” He rubs my shoulders, massaging the sunscreen into my skin, and I close my eyes at the feeling of his strong, familiar hands.
“Tell me you don’t still use that stuff,” I say, trying not to sound too breathy, but it’s a struggle.
He keeps working the sunscreen into my back, rubbing down to my bikini bottoms and back up. “The smell of it reminds me of you.”
I turn around when he’s through and look up at him. “Gabe”—I smile softly—“you shouldn’t use that stuff. It’s bad for you.”
He shrugs and hands me back my sunscreen. “Well, maybe I’ll switch to this now.” He turns around. “Want to get me?”
“Sure...if I can reach you.”
He pushes his feet apart in the sand so I can reach the top of his shoulders. I rub the tight skin that covers the muscles in his back and he lets out a soft groan that makes me smile. I rub him down to his board shorts that sit low on his hips, barely hiding the tan line just above his crack, and work my way back up to his shoulders, stretching up on my tiptoes to reach his neck. I drop down off my toes and swipe his lower back a few more times. “Okay, you’re good.”
“Thanks,” he says, taking the sunscreen from me again and spraying his arms and stomach.
When he’s done, I hand him a small tube of sunscreen I use on my face. “Don’t forget your face.”
“SPF 70?” he says, eyeing it.
“Unless you want wrinkles,” I say, putting my hands on my hips.
“Is that your secret?” he asks, narrowing his eyes at me.
“My secret? Gabe, everybody uses sunscreen nowadays.”
“Not everybody looks like you.”
“Thanks.” I push my lips together over a smile and laugh quietly. I’m a glutton for punishment. “You ready to get in the water?”
He grins and leaves his surfboard in the sand next to our blanket. “Let’s go.”
We walk down to the water and the waves splash against my legs. Gabe was right, it’s like bathwater. I wiggle my toes against the gritty ocean floor and smile.
Gabe takes my hand and pulls me through the shallow water, until we’re trudging through the breaking waves, and I laugh when I feel the familiar spray of the ocean on my face. When we’re about waist deep, I let go of his hand and sink below the surface.
I listen to the echoing of the waves churning above me—the only sound I hear—and feel them rolling over me, rushing past my face and tugging on my hair, washing away the uncertainty and sorrow of the last seven years. I stay under for as long as I can hold my breath, until Gabe grabs my hand and pulls me up.
“Are you trying to drown yourself?”
I plant my feet on the ocean floor and wipe the water from my face. “I’ve missed this so damn much,” I say, closing my eyes. When I open them again, I throw my arms around Gabe’s neck, and my inhibition to the wind. I hug him tightly and say honestly, “I feel like I’m finally where I’m supposed to be, like I’m home.”
“You are,” he says softly against my wet hair, and a wave of emotion hits me hard, as big and powerful as the waves rushing past us. He brings his hand to my face and wipes my cheek. “Hey,” he says in the sweetest, concerned tone, his southern drawl tugging hard on my heart.
I smile. “I’m just really happy. It’s stupid, I know.”
“No”—he shakes his head—“it’s not stupid. I’m sorry that it’s been so hard for you.”
Roxy barks, surprising me. She swims up behind me, panting and, I’d almost swear, smiling. She looks so happy, soaking wet, dog paddling in circles around us. Gabe reaches over and pats her wet back, and I can’t help but notice him standing before me, soaking wet, with his dark hair slicked back. Little droplets of water fall from his sculpted nose down to his broad chest. I try not to look at the eight pack, but darn it, it’s amazing, flexing every time a wave rushes up against him. The water rushes up...and then it falls back down, leaving a tanned, glistening wet torso in my view. Up...and back down. Up...and back down.
“Isn’t this too deep for her?” I ask, trying to distract myself. I’m also a little worried about Roxy getting tired.
She barks and circles us again.
“No. She wants to swim out to the sandbar.”
“She can swim that far?”
“Yeah, she does it all the time.”
“Do you still swim out there?” I remember him and Brandon racing to see who could get to the sandbar first. It always seemed too far to me. It still does.
“All the time.” He grins and I watch his eyes fill with excitement. “Want to go?”
No. “How deep is it?”
“I don’t know. Eight, maybe ten feet this time of day. But once you get out there, it’s about knee deep.”
“What about sharks?”
“Liv, when was the last shark attack here?”
I shrug my shoulders. I can’t recall ever hearing about one.
“You’re not going to get eaten by a shark. Come on, I’ll race you.” He grins and dives under the surface of the ocean, and starts swimming away from me. He’s two feet away...three feet...four. Roxy is already several feet in front of him.
“Wait!” I screech, not wanting to be alone in the water. I start swimming after them, thinking only of reaching Gabe. I’m not willing to put my feet down to see if I ca
n still touch, but I’m sure that I can’t. I just concentrate on putting one arm in front of the other.
My feet kick frantically behind me. I’ve almost caught up to him, but geez, he’s fast. I gasp and keep swimming, until I smack into something hard.
I scream.
“It’s okay, Liv, put your feet down.”
I gasp and open my eyes as Gabe pulls me up out of the water. I stand up and shove his stomach with both hands. “You scared the shit out of me!” I hold my hand over my heart while I catch my breath.
“Well, if I didn’t stop you, you’d be swimming to Europe right now.” He laughs, and so do I.
I look around. We’re standing knee deep on a sandbar about a hundred yards out from the shore. Wow.
“Pretty cool, huh?”
“It’s so quiet out here.” I look at the endless horizon. “It’s beautiful.”
He smiles. “Yeah. And sometimes,” he says, peering through the water around our feet, “if you look around”—he wades in small circles—“you’ll find one of these.” He reaches beneath the surface and pulls out a sand dollar.
“No way!” I squeal.
Roxy trots over to us and puts her nose on the little brown disc.
Gabe smiles and hands it to me. “If you leave it out in the sun, it’ll dry out. Then you can bleach it white.”
“No, it’s alive. I don’t want to kill it.”
“I think Brandon and I used to use these things as frisbees when we were kids.” He smirks.
“I remember. I used to run around the beach after you two, rescuing all of them and throwing them back into the water.”
He smiles and sits down in the shallow water. “God, I miss him.”
I sit next to him and pull my knees to my chest. “I know. I miss him too.” I rest my chin on my folded arms. “I definitely think he would be proud that I finally got the nerve to swim out here.” I squint my eyes at Gabe. “Not that you gave me much choice.”
“You didn’t have to follow me.”
I would follow him anywhere. Even if it does go against my better judgment.
He gives me a look that tells me he knows.
“He was always proud of you, you know. Maybe it was a twin thing, I don’t know. But the sun rose and set with you. That was something we always had in common.”
