For Forester (For You #2)

by J. Nathan

  “Yeah, I could be a lot of things. If only I could speak to my younger self.”

  “What would you say?”

  A dry laugh escaped her as the wind gently tousled her hair around her face. “What wouldn’t I say?”

  I reached up and tucked a strand behind her ear. “Come on. Tell me.”

  “Okay...” Her eyes drifted away as she considered it. “Now, I had quite a bit of fun, especially in college, but I’d still tell myself to have more fun. To live it up.”

  “More fun is good,” I agreed.

  “I wouldn’t be so concerned with what I ate. I’d pig out more knowing I’ve got a killer metabolism.”

  I laughed.

  “And I definitely wouldn’t have been in such a rush to settle down after graduation.”

  “So, you’d sleep around?”

  She actually thought about my question for a long time. “I’d weigh my options. I was so set on getting into a relationship. Getting a guy to want to settle down with me and love me. I never considered I’d choose the wrong guy.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with wanting a relationship...I guess.”

  “See.” She bumped her shoulder into my arm. “What guy wants a girl who’s all about commitment?”

  “I’m not against commitment,” I countered. “I just need to find the right girl. And not many have the ability to tame this.” I glanced down at myself, trying to get her to laugh.

  She did, and I was starting to like her laugh way more than I probably should. “Is that what the line you’ve got forming on campus is all about? Finding the one who can tame you?”

  I was seriously going to kill Mel. “I call it having fun and sowing my wild oats.”

  “Oats, huh?”

  I laughed. “Isn’t that what they say?”

  “I don’t know who says it. But yeah.”

  We watched the last of the sun creep down until darkness surrounded us. I liked being around Marin. And the more time I spent with her, the more I wanted to be around her.

  Marin

  “Sorry about my mom.” Trace said as I stared out at the ocean from atop the lifeguard chair.

  “She can’t help herself.”

  “That’s no excuse. She needs to stay out of other people’s business.”

  “I guess having a cheat for a husband makes for good gossip.” I wasn’t sure I’d ever get used to the idea that I’d been cheated on. That I’d become gossip. That I looked like a fool.

  “Well it’s no one’s business. Especially my mom’s.”

  I shrugged again. “I don’t care. I’m just glad to be rid of him.”

  “Damn straight you are.”

  I laughed, loving how everything was so cut and dry with Trace. “I really wish I could see the world through your eyes.”

  “My eyes?”

  “Yeah. Eyes that haven’t been tainted by reality. By embarrassment. By heartbreak.”

  “Just because I’m younger than you, doesn’t mean I haven’t been hurt or embarrassed.”

  I cocked my head. “Says the nineteen-year-old.”

  “I’m serious. The time the picture of my ass went viral, sure I was proud of the angle, but all the attention I got after was damn embarrassing.”

  I snorted, which only seemed to egg him on.

  “And when Julie Jones broke my heart freshman year in high school, I may have listened to my fair share of sad songs in my dark bedroom.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “I swear.”

  A comfortable silence filled the space between us. Conversations with Trace were so effortless. They’d never been that way with Charles. He was always preoccupied with his phone or his work. When I spoke, I never even knew if he was listening. Chances were he wasn’t.

  “CJ’s leaving Monday to spend some time with his father,” I said, having waited all day to tell Trace the news I’d received earlier.

  Trace’s head turned quickly. “What?”

  “I just found out. He’ll be gone for a week. Maybe two.”

  His features darkened. “Why?”

  I shrugged. “I assume Charles is trying to figure out if he has time for a child. My lawyer told me I need to let him go or I risk Charles doing something foolish like fighting for physical custody to spite me.”

  Trace balked at the ridiculousness. “You know there’s no way he has time for a kid.”

  “That’s what I’m hoping. I just fear he’s trying to look like father of the year in front of his lawyer friends. How would it look if he said he didn’t want custody of his own son?”

  Trace shook his head. “He’s such an asshole.”

  “No argument here.”

  “What am I gonna do without my little buddy?” Trace said.

  Tears pooled in my eyes. “Don’t get me started. I’ve been crying all day.”

  Trace dropped his arm from the back of the chair down around my shoulder and pulled me into his side.

  I let him. It didn’t feel strange. It felt the way it should feel when someone cared about you. Someone cared about your child. If I was being honest, it was the reason I’d shown up. I needed Trace’s strength. I need his perspective. Tears streamed down my cheeks. “I just don’t want him to turn CJ against me. He’s so conniving. I’m scared I’ll get the call that CJ wants to stay with him.”

  “That’ll never happen. CJ adores you.”

  “God, I’m so pathetic. I’m always unloading on you. You must think I’m so ridiculous.”

  “Nope. I think you’re pretty amazing.” Trace pulled back so he could see my face. His eyes were serious as he lifted his thumbs to the tears on my cheeks and wiped them away. “When I stop by to say goodbye, I’m gonna let the douchebag know I’ll beat his ass if CJ comes back changed.”

  I offered a small smile, completely believing Trace would do it. I would’ve given anything to see Charles’ face. He was such a wimp next to Trace. He was the complete opposite. “He’s leaving around noon.”

  “I’m gonna miss him.”

  “He’s gonna miss you, too,” I assured him.

  “Damn straight he is.”

  I laughed through my tears.

  Trace sat up. “What do you say we take a walk?”

  “It’s been a long time since anyone’s asked me to take a walk.”

  “Now isn’t that a damn shame.”

  “Does it still mean a walk or is there more to it?”

  He smiled as he turned and climbed down the steps. “It can be whatever you want it to be.”

  Despite the nervous knot swelling in my throat, I climbed down the steps. My feet sank into the sand as I stared out at the long stretch of beach on either side of us. Trace slid his hand into mine, holding it tightly.

  I sucked in a breath. It was wrong to hold hands with a teenager. Wrong to want his affection. Wrong to believe his compassion, looks, and body made him a man. I tried unlatching my fingers, but Trace just held on tighter.

  “We’re all alone on this dark beach. No one’s around. Can’t a guy just hold a girl’s hand?”

  I opened my mouth to respond—

  “Great,” Trace said, tugging me toward the water without giving me a chance to respond.

  My bare feet slapped against the wet sand as we walked along the shore. The last time I’d been at the beach was the day after learning the truth about Charles. I sat in the water all day just letting the waves conceal my tears as they knocked me down. CJ found it hysterical while I felt like I’d never be able to stand on my own two feet again.

  But I was. I was actually doing it.

  “What are you thinking about?” Trace asked.

  “Just thinking.”

  We continued walking in silence.

  I looked to Trace. His profile was like an etching against the darkening sky. “You’re not gonna pry?”

  “Tonight’s about moving forward.”

  “Forward,” I mused. “I can do that.”

  “With me?”

&nb
sp; “Ha.”

  “What’s so funny?”

  I shook my head, amused, flattered, and scared as hell that he might’ve been serious. “You’re too cute for your own good.”

  “Cute?” A flicker of amusement lit his eyes. “I haven’t been called cute since I was ten. Charming, maybe. Hot, definitely. God? Every damn time.”

  I laughed as the wind whipped my hair into my face.

  “Think about it, Marin.”

  “Think about what?” I asked, pushing the hair out of my eyes.

  “Me.”

  I rolled my eyes. “You’re kinda hard not to.”

  I expected him to respond with something cocky, but he just stared out at the water. I looked out at it too, wondering what he saw. “You up for a skinny dip?”

  I shook my head, amused. “You need to get back to work.”

  “Don’t try to get out of it. You said you would’ve had more fun if given the chance.”

  “And skinny dipping is fun?” I challenged.

  “With me it is.”

  I laughed.

  “Does that mean you’re in?” His brows bounced suggestively.

  I glanced down at the dark water washing up on the shore and over our feet. “Maybe I could be persuaded.”

  “Yeah?”

  There was something about being with Trace that made me feel gutsy. Made me throw caution to the wind.

  “So, what’ll it take?” he asked.

  I lifted my chin toward his chest. “Lose the shirt.”

  His lips slipped into a crooked grin. And without hesitation, he grabbed the shirt at the back of his neck and pulled it off.

  Holy hell. My eyes zoned in on the defined surface of his freaking chest. I hadn’t seen someone so perfect since I was in college.

  “Marin?”

  My eyes jumped to his.

  He lifted his chin at me. “Lose yours.”

  Now that I’d thrown down the gauntlet, I wasn’t sure I could actually go through with it. I lowered my hands and gripped the hem of my shirt, toying with the cotton fabric.

  What was I doing? Had I lost my mind?

  I released the material.

  The disappointment in Trace’s eyes was hard to miss. I felt it too. Ah, hell. My fingers lowered slowly to the button on my jeans. Trace’s eyes followed. Without talking myself out of it, I slipped the button through the slot and shimmied out of my jeans. My shirt covered enough of my red thong to conceal me and make me less self-conscious—and less like I was making a monumental mistake.

  Trace’s eyes zoned in on mine, though I could see in the way his features tightened that it took tremendous effort for him not to venture a glance down.

  I nodded toward his legs. “Now your shorts.”

  “Now your shirt,” he countered as he slipped off his shorts and stood there in his boxers.

  I shook my head. “The shirt stays on tonight.”

  “So, next time?”

  “If there’s a next time, I’ll consider it.”

  “Oh, there’ll be a next time,” he assured me, right before his eyes dropped to my legs. His grin turned my insides to mush. Complete and utter mush.

  What the hell was I doing letting him stand there and gawk at me in my underwear?

  I turned and bolted into the water, squealing as the chill of the water stabbed at my skin like hundreds of pointy little knives. Trace’s laughter carried from the beach before I lowered myself underwater. When I surfaced, I pushed my hair back from my face. It was the complete opposite of the last time I’d been there. This was refreshing, and liberating, and fun as hell.

  “I’ve gotta say,” Trace said as he moved to the edge of the water with a giant grin. “I didn’t think you’d do it.”

  “I’m just full of surprises.”

  “That you are.”

  “Aren’t you coming in?”

  He shook his head.

  I threw back my head in laughter. It didn’t even bother me that he wasn’t joining me or that my wet shirt clung to my body. Trace had known what I needed. And he made it happen.

  He smiled as he stepped back and scooped up his clothes. “Come on. I gotta get back to work.”

  I smiled as I watched him pull his shirt over his head.

  He ticked his head toward the parking lot. “I’ve got a towel in my truck.”

  “You don’t think I’m capable of staying in here by myself?”

  “Oh, no. You’re capable. I just don’t feel like worrying about you all alone.”

  “I’ll be okay.”

  Trace stared across the space between us. “Yep, you will.”

  And for the first time in a long time, I actually believed I would.

  “Now, get outta there,” he said. “Before I have to come in and get you myself.”

  I lifted my brows. “I’m not scared.”

  He threw back his head and laughed. “You should be.”

  I shuddered. And as much as I wanted to blame the cold water, I knew the real cause. I made my way out of the water toward Trace who met me with his shorts offered.

  “Here. Put these on. There’s no way you’re getting those jeans on yet.”

  I grabbed his shorts and pulled them on, holding the waist to keep them up as they were sizes too large.

  “Come on,” he said, wrapping an arm around me and guiding me toward his truck. Given the cool ocean air biting at my wet skin, the warmth of his body was beyond welcome. Once Trace grabbed the towel from his truck, he wrapped it around me. I made fast work of drying myself up and slipping his now wet shorts down my legs with the towel still around me.

  “Sorry.”

  He laughed as he took them from me, pulling a dry pair from his truck. “I always come prepared.”

  “I don’t doubt it.”

  He howled with laughter. “I am definitely rubbing off on you.”

  I shrugged. “Could be worse.”

  He chuckled as he tugged on his shorts. “Worse, huh?”

  “Forester!” a deep voice called. “What the hell are you doing? Your break ended half an hour ago.”

  Trace grimaced. “Duty calls.”

  “Thanks for inviting me.”

  “Thanks for showing up, wuss.”

  “You can’t call me that anymore.”

  His lips pressed into a tight line. “I guess you’re right.”

  I nodded.

  “I’ll see you,” Trace said, turning and walking back to the bar in no particular rush.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Marin

  CJ sat on the edge of his bed jamming stuffed animals into his luggage. I dropped down beside him, handing him the cell phone I’d bought for him.

  Surprise filled his eyes. “You’re giving me a phone?”

  I nodded.

  “But I’m only five.”

  I laughed, loving him more than I ever thought possible. “It’s so you can call me whenever you want to.”

  He stared down at it like he feared it would detonate if he moved.

  “It doesn’t have apps or anything.” I pointed to the screen. “You can just make calls. I already set it. Press this button to call me. And this one to call Grandma and Grandpa.”

  He glanced up at me with inquisitive eyes. “What about Trace?”

  I tilted my head. “Oh, honey. Trace is busy.”

  “Not too busy for me.”

  Visions of Trace stripping down on the beach flooded my brain. Saturday night had been so much more than I expected when I decided to show up at the bar. Now I understood CJ’s awe of Trace. Trace had this way of making you feel like you were the most important person in the world when he was around. “Okay. But only if you promise not to bother him.”

  CJ’s smile reached all the way up to his innocent little eyes. “Promise.”

  I took his phone and programmed Trace’s number in, wondering where he was. He said he wanted to say goodbye to CJ and he was leaving in a few minutes.

  “I think you should marry Trace,” C
J said.

  My eyes shot up. “What?”

  “You smile a lot when he’s here.”

  “I do?”

  CJ nodded. “And you laugh too.”

  “I always smile and laugh.”

  He shook his head. “Not the way you do when he’s around.”

  I wrapped my arm around his small little shoulders and pulled him into me. “I’m gonna miss you.”

  “I’m gonna miss you more,” he said.

  Trace

  Already late for the afternoon shift I’d picked up at the bar, I jogged up Marin’s front walkway, hoping I hadn’t missed CJ. The expensive sedan in the driveway told me I hadn’t. I knocked on the front door.

  After a minute, it swung open and Marin’s ex stood in front of me. His brows knitted together, his eyes assessing me up and down. He clearly didn’t remember me. “Can I help you?”

  “Are CJ and Marin here?”

  His eyes narrowed and his voice deepened, as if to scare me. “Who are you?”

  “Trace.”

  His head shot back, his eyes looking me up and down again, this time more in amazement than anger. “Little Trace? The one who rode his skateboard around here like a wild child? Boy, you grew up.”

  “It happens.”

  He crossed his arms and leaned against the doorway as if he planned to stand there and shoot the shit with me. “What brings you over?”

  “I heard CJ was leaving. I wanted to say goodbye.”

  “You know CJ?”

  “Marin has me hang out with him. You know—” My eyes took in the cheating asshole with nothing but disdain. I hoped he could see it in my face. Feel it in the coldness I was exuding. “She wants a man around for him.”

  His face sobered and he stood up taller, puffing out his chest like there was anything under his pressed shirt to actually puff out. “He has a man. I’m his father.”

  I held up my palms, like his tone intimidated me. “Never said you weren’t.”

  “Well, CJ’s busy saying goodbye to his mom. I’ll tell him you stopped by.” The door slammed in my face before I could tell him I’d wait.

  Fucking asshole.

  I spun away from the door, never wanting to kick the shit out of someone more than I did him in that moment.

  Marin

  Walking CJ downstairs was one of the hardest things I ever had to do. Everything in me wanted to hold onto him and never let him go. But Charles was his father. And a boy needed his father. And I needed to be sure I didn’t do anything to push Charles to fight for physical custody.